Fraddir sighs to himself, smoothing his own priestly sash over his tattered shirt.  He hadn't expected anything else.  He wouldn't have, really, even if his god hadn't sent him that vision that implied something like this.  Being in a small kingdom next to the Eastern Empire was like that, for people who're paying attention.

Then, he looks up to see that the four other people in the shop have rushed out, and the silversmith is looking apprehensively at him.

"Before you close up - do you have a spare set of tools?"

"But - but you're a priest of Tembor - are you a smith too?"  The smith throws up his hands.  "And why're you still here in this city!?"

"I need them.  I have a plan.  I will pay you for them.  How much?"

"Save your money; pay for a Gate!  Or if you really want -"  He names a figure, much less than they would've cost yesterday.

Fraddir makes the deal for more than the smith's initial offer, but still less than he would've paid yesterday, and then slowly navigates through the terrified crowd to the royal castle.

The castle is in chaos, of course.  The king is gone; the Empire will soon be here; everyone is either making themselves scarce before the invaders or trying to make themselves look useful to them.

Somewhere inside this castle is also the eight-year-old Princess Arina.  Probably.  At least, the people in the city say she was last they'd heard of her.

(Fraddir wishes his god would've told him where to find her, too.  Or that he had Thoughtsensing.  Well, he'll probably be wishing for that a lot, now.)

The Imperial army isn't bothering to Gate to the capital of Marnon.  The Eastern Empire has the most Gate-capable mages in the world - they might have an immortal mage-Emperor recently returned to them - but still, Gates are too expensive to use just because.

Plus, Gates into enemy-occupied territory are risky.  King Japlet doesn't know of any ambushes ready in case some Imperial mages Gate in... but then, it wouldn't be the first time some kingdom being conquered had neglected to tell their king the full battle plan.  That's the downside of being known to capture and Compulsion enemy leaders... but the Emperor says there're enough advantages to keep doing it.

So the Imperial army lumbers on its way, pausing to destroy the shrines in every village and leave in their place images of the Immortal Emperor Arvad.

There're still two young pages remaining on duty at the castle gates to stare at Fraddir's priestly garb and then throw the gates open.

One of them instantly blurts out, wide-eyed, "Are the gods sending us a miracle?"

"Not now.  Not yet.  But I've had a vision; I have a plan.

"Take me to the Princess Arina."

"The Princess - she's just a little girl!  Why do you need her!?"

Well, all right, a very quiet and dutiful sort of girl, but still.

Because royal legitimacy is important, and she's about to be the queen, Fraddir doesn't say.  Because the King's thrown away his freedom in a battle that definitely wasn't going to work, and there's no reason to throw away the Princess's too.

"Do you want to leave her for the Empire to get their hands on her?"

The page looks suitably abashed.  "Right this way, Reverend."

He shows Fraddir through the half-deserted corridors to the nursery.

The nursery, at least, was reasonably calm... if one didn't think about why the woman who looked sort of like a governess might be folding the Princess's dresses with a half-full bag at the ready.

She looks over her shoulder at Fraddir, gasps, and bobs a curtsy.  "Reverend!  I'm Selma.  Why are you - er - still here?"

"I have a plan.  Are you the Princess's governess?"

Selma shakes her head, and then pauses and shrugs.  "Lady Varrin the governess left yesterday, and Mildred vanished overnight, so... you could maybe say I am now?"  She drops her voice.  "What is this plan of yours?"

There are several plans she could imagine a priest having right before the Empire comes, and some of them wouldn't be good for anyone around him.

"I need Princess Arina."

She steps back cautiously.  "What for?"

On the one hand, it's good that she's had some spirited attendants.  On the other hand, he's short on time, and he doesn't know quite how short.

"To take her away and protect her from the Empire, while I pursue the rest of my plan."

"Which is?" she asks, not really expecting an answer.

"I could tell you, but then you'd tell the Empire."

... This's still probably the best outcome Arina can get.

(Selma wasn't really convinced of her other plan to take Arina herself and say she was her niece or something.  For one, the Empire might go looking.  For another, Arina probably wouldn't stand for the lie.)

"She's in the chapel, with Betsy from the kitchens."

Fraddir is honestly surprised.  "I didn't know you were pious enough to send her there."

Selma shrugs.  "Frankly, I've been trying to get used to not being pious... no offense, but you know."  She shakes her head.  "But Arina is."

The castle chapel is a small room, with abstract designs on the walls in an attempt to not offend any of the dozen deities represented at small altar-shrines up and down the walls or seem to be favoring any one over another.  It's meant for urgent and private matters, Selma had explained; for larger ceremonies, an altar would be brought into one of the great halls, or everyone would go to one of the several temples close by.

Fraddir takes this in at a glance.  He's never been in the castle before; he's barely been in the city.  It feels rather impermanent, but maybe that's just the circumstances.

Princess Arina is kneeling in front of an altar, hands folded in whispered prayer to whomever might be listening:  to fix things, to keep out the nasty Empire, to save the country, to bring Father back...

She's by herself - she'd barely noticed when Betsy left, and then she shrugs and decides there's nothing better to do than pray a bit for her too, and then for everyone else who wasn't in the castle today.

The thought crosses her mind to go ask someone what's happening - there must be some Farseer still here - but from what the grown-ups have been whispering, she isn't quite sure she wants to know what's happening.  It's the first time in her life she might not want to know, and she doesn't really like the feeling.

Well, at least not till she's prayed some more that whoever's listening would make things be fixed.

And then the door opens, and she glances over her shoulder and sees Selma there with a strange man in a priestly sash, and a flash of hope flashes through her - "Have the gods sent you to fix everything!?"