Yes, Constance, why do you still feel discontent? Could it be that you have not performed a miracle, like the wild and hoary fey in the days before men came to the Isle? Could it be that faith is a heavy yoke, and heaviest on those who labor without a sign?

That is why you slip away from the crowd after permitting the winsome knight to carry your scarf and enter the keep for a moment, accepting a drink in the cool and the dark. You are welcome here. And it is here you rest your forehead against cold stone and ask for a sign. Some sign that Lostwithiel will be safe under your care.

Outside, through the window, the tournament banners stream. It will be unusual for you to arrive late, but if you go right now, as you are, you will rise from your seat and march up and down the aisles like a madwoman, snapping nervously at sky and earth alike.

You seek the Otherworld, but roll a [b]5.[/b]