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Myril walked partway up the hill with Darna and her guardsmen, but the clamor drove her back, and she made her excuses, taking a side alley toward the eastern part of the town. Although the temple didn’t usually feel like a refuge, she went there next, grateful that the high, white walls blocked out so much of the noise from outside, foreigners and Theranians alike. She skirted past the elders’ courtyard to the peresi’s garden. She knew that she ought to look in on Iola, but she hadn’t taken the tea to block trance, and the ambassadress’s quarters dragged her down more than anywhere. It was bad enough with only the scent of roses and the bubbling fountain of the peresi’s courtyard.
Lenasa’s chamber was next to the passage to the kitchens, where the tea urn was kept on festival days. Sh
