They brought the intruders before me after I had finished with the main business of the day. Most of the courtiers had left, and with me, apart from my guards, I had only my Fox and Bardia, to my left hand and my right.

They had already questioned the old man; my spy had said he was the Magus of Sounis, but I had ruled long enough not to trust this outright. My Fox had exchanged many letters with the real Magus, and so I had asked him to listen to the questioning and give me his thoughts. They had never met in person, but he came away convinced, and I, for my part, fell to thinking. My spy had not known, or not told, why they were here, only saying that I would regret it if I turned a blind eye. What madness or genius would compel Sounis to send his Magus, no longer a young man, into the wilderness, into my land, without a greeting to me? Had he asked me to lodge the party, I would have done so, for it is best to be courteous to strong neighbours, within reason, but, as it stood, he must be hiding his purpose from me.

In this I think my womanliness helped me; like Batta and Redival and Ungit, or even my poor Psyche, I hated to have secrets kept from me. Some of my men would have sent them back to Sounis with no more than a warning, or else killed them out of hand, but I knew I must find out what Sounis meant by this affront. I doubted he planned to attack me, but he must have some urgent reason to send such valuable men into my land unguarded and unannounced.

And valuable they were; the Magus was Sounis' strong right hand, and, though my men did not see it, I recognized the younger man who knelt before me. I had only met him once before, but the resemblance was unmistakeable: it was Sophos, Sounis's nephew. Behind my veil I looked at the Fox, to see if he had noticed. What, by all the gods, was the heir to Sounis doing here?

I did not recognize the third. My men told me he had fought bravely, and had brought down one of my men. They thought to kill him, but by some grace of the gods – here Bardia's voice grew reverent as he told me – he had not died, though none of them could explain it. The magus had said that he was a skilled thief, and had persuaded my men to care for him instead of killing him outright. I had gone down to look on him as my doctors worked over him, and had not seen much to intrigue me; only a rather untidy young man, with forgettable features, and a gaping wound in his chest. He now lay – he could not stand or kneel – by his two companions. I thought him in a faint at first, but as I looked down at him, I saw that his eyes were open.

By all that is holy, I swear that he met my gaze through the veil.

I descended to the floor, very glad that I had worn the red gown today; I was taller in it, and more fierce, and the black of my veil more striking against its golden embroidery. The boy on the floor followed me with his eyes as I came towards him. The other two were studying my floor tiles.

I would start with the thief, then. From what the magus had said, the Fox thought he might be useful.

I stood close to him, close enough that the hem of my gown brushed his fingers. Bardia, at my shoulder, tensed.

"We are told," I began, "that you are the greatest thief Sounis could find."

His voice was weak, but he answered without hesitation, "Better than that. I was the greatest thief in all Sounis."

"Was?"

"I'm not in Sounis now, Your Majesty."

I could make no response to that. Indeed, I might have laughed, but I did not wish to put him at ease.

"What did Sounis give you," I asked, "in return for serving him?"

"He did hint that he might not kill me," said the thief. He was still looking up at me, and I fancied, again, that he saw through my veil.

"I could offer you more than that," I said.

"You might say outright that you might not kill me?"

Orual might have laughed. Orual might have been frustrated by his glibness. The Queen, however, was cold. The Queen was patient.

The Queen asked him to be her thief.

There was fear in his eyes, though he hid it well. I waited to hear what he would say.

"Your majesty," he said, his voice still weak, "I cannot stay in Glome. I have promised my sweetheart that I will return to her."

I laughed, and in my laugh were Orual, bitter, and Ungit, triumphant, and the Queen, disdainful.

I might have been angrier, but a look at the magus and at Sounis's nephew calmed me. They were as surprised as I was.

"In my experience, those promises are broken easily," said I.

"Not to her," he said, his voice gaining conviction. "I am bound to her, your majesty."

"You may ask any of my men," said I, "and you will learn that I am a better mistress to serve."

"You may be more beautiful," he answered, "but she is more kind."

I could not answer that. I laughed, again, and there was more of Orual about that laugh. The thought that he might love some woman less beautiful than I was unimaginable. As for kindness, he was probably right. I had been kind to Psyche, and neither of us gained from it.

He might mock me, but I would not waste him in thoughtless anger. He was no coward, no matter what else he might be. I might yet be able to use him. Perhaps when he had recovered I would have him beaten for insolence.

My men took him up to be tended to, and took his friends back to be locked up again. I took Bardia and the Fox to my study to ask them their thoughts.

"What do you think, Grandfather?"

"We must handle the situation with caution," said the Fox. "He may know more than we think."

"Bardia?"

"I'd not touch him," said Bardia, with the note of solemn discomfort in his voice that generally accompanied religious speech. "My Queen, the gods have made it clear that he is not to die – not yet, at least. Keep him here, or not, only do not have him beheaded. Nought but trouble lies that way."

"We three are all agreed, then," said I. "I would not waste his life when he might still be useful. The nephew I cannot touch without angering Sounis, and I would not go to war with him now, if I can prevent it. Nor can I touch the magus."

"And it would be a pity to cause such a mind to stop thinking," put in the Fox.

"I may ransom them," I said, thoughtfully. "There is no hurry to decide, though. I doubt I can do much before the thief recovers. Sounis may want him back, too, and I'd prefer his life to be more certain if we use him to bargain with. Though he may need to pay for mocking me."

The Fox looked thoughtful. "Daughter, I wonder – I have been trying to put together some of what the magus told me. Do you think they can be seeking Hamiathes' Gift?"

I sighed, falling back in my chair. "Far be the thought. I should like to spend a year or two without being entangled in the schemes of gods. I have no liking for Sounis, but I'd as soon stick my bare hand into a wasps' nest as stick my nose into that affair."

"We will question them again," said Bardia, "and we will find out."

In the end, though, it did not matter. The thief hung stretched between life and death, and the magus and the boy would not speak. I was loath to use torture, as I did not want to anger Sounis – or the Fox, who had no stomach for such things. I might have tortured the thief, but he was in no state to give me anything helpful.

We continued this way for days, waiting. The thief was delirious. For my part, I was patient; for time, as I saw it, was my ally in this fight. Either the thief would recover, or the magus and the nephew would tire of captivity and give me more thorough answers, or I would ransom them back to Sounis for a price that would renew my armory.

Yet again I was the plaything of the gods. I woke one morning to the sound of pounding on my door. My women opened it, and held whispered council with the knocker. It was Bardia, I saw, or heard – I was half asleep still.

"We'll tell her Majesty–" one of them was beginning, and, yawning, I cut in.

"It's all right," I said, wrapping my veil and robe around me. "Let him come in. Bardia, what is it?"

He knelt on the floor, eyes cast down respectfully.

"It's the party from Sounis, my Queen."

I yawned behind my veil. "Yes?"

"They're gone."

I was out of bed almost before he had finished saying it, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, and calling for my dogs and hunting dress.

"We'll catch them," I said. "Go get the best hunting party you can – no, stay. Gather two, and send out one away from Sounis. They may have doubled back."

Bardia bowed and got out of the room as quickly as possible, narrowly missing a collision with one of my maids, and I had my hair braided and my sword at my side as quickly as my maids could do it. It was no use, of course. The gods had chosen to spare the thief from death, and now they spared him from me. We hunted the party with dogs for miles around Glome, and watched the rivers and the roads, but nobody had seen the party. After a week we gave them up as lost, and I sent more spies into Sounis, in hopes of finding out more.

When we heard what had happened in Eddis, I was relieved that Sounis had lost this fight, and more disappointed than ever that I had not managed to steal the thief away. At first I was angry that the Gift had been almost within my grasp, and I had not seen it, but both Bardia and the Fox told me to be grateful I had not interfered with the gods, and I remembered that at the time I had felt the same.

The Queen was coldly furious at the thief, for his insolence, and, perhaps, the cleverness that she had wanted for her own.

I could not tell what Orual thought.

Note: I've always thought that Irene, from the Queen's Thief, almost seems like an alternate-universe version of Orual from Till We Have Faces. Basically, if you imagine Orual being pretty, and thus being used as a bargaining chip instead of a punching bag, you would get Irene. Both of them rule with an iron fist in a society that doesn't much like them, and both of them compare themselves to their respective head goddesses in their pantheon. The difference, I think, is that Orual thinks her fist is much more iron than it really is. Her top priority is to protect people, although I'm not sure she sees it that way.

I don't know that it's very good, but I'm honestly surprised nobody's done it before. I'm being the change I want to see in this world.