《The Emperor's Hound》


 Chapter 1

    The day the scribe was murdered was the same day Alyn first saw her patron, although she had been in his service for nearly six months. The other pages in the Fourth Star Court had told her that was nothing unusual for Lord Miervaldis. The older pages could list on the fingers of one hand how many times they had seen her lord, and some of the kitchen staff didn''t even recognise his name. Miraina, Alyn''s best friend and the only other girl in her year, attended her assigned patron almost as rarely. But, Alyn had thought, at least he had turned up at the induction ceremony. The Fourth Star Court chamberlain had had to stand in for her.


    So when the under-groom''s boy arrived in the door of the classroom to announce that Lord Miervaldis wanted his page in the first hall, as soon as possible, it came as a complete surprise. Lord Fitzhugh had been droning on about variations of court law brought in four hundred years ago, and Alyn had long since stopped listening, slumped over her desk fiddling with her short, fluffy brown hair and dreaming about nothing more interesting than the end of the lesson. The knock at the door barely moved her from her reverie, but she blinked awake when she heard her name.


    "Sorry, sir, but I was sent to ask for Alyn Vanyasdotter to attend on her lord. He''s in the first hall."


    Alyn didn''t quite register what that meant at first. The teacher waved a laconic hand in her general direction.


    "Go on, Alyn. You can copy Miraina''s notes later."


    Miraina gave Alyn a wink, and reached to take her friend''s papers and quills as Alyn pushed clumsily out of the chair. She stood aside, took a breath, bowed to the teacher and ran from the room.


    It was a long way from the classroom to the first hall. The Fourth Star Court was one of the smaller courts, but its ancient buildings still stretched over more than a square mile of ground, arranged in gracious, studied disarray around small gardens, cultivated orchards and sculpted stone courtyards. The pages were taught wherever was available, which today had meant one of the unused court rooms at the far end of the West Pavilion, almost as far as she could be from the Court''s great first hall.


    The under-groom''s boy, Tom, followed behind her as she ran, her steps echoing in the court''s corridors. Reaching the central cross corridor, she almost knocked over the head housekeeper and grimaced at Dame Clarin''s angry shouts even as she raced away. She hoped she didn''t end up cleaning the old tack rooms again. That had been bad enough the first time.


    Putting potential punishments aside, she sped through the older rooms off the central corridor, swinging from the door frames to help her make the turns. There were three steps down to the enclosed kitchen garden, its sweet herby smell rising around her, then a rarely used door on the other side. She ducked into the pantry corridor and hurried through the busy kitchen, dodging a swipe from an under-cook with the ease of practice.


    Racing down one of the subsidiary corridors, reaching the corner, grabbing the decorative gargoyle to steady and pivot herself, she flew around the bend, and almost hit a man standing right in front of her. Her feet went out from under her, and she only stopped herself from falling by clutching the helpful gargoyle tightly. The man turned round as she regained her balance; she bowed quickly, hoping he could not see her furious, embarrassed blush.


    "I''m terribly sorry, my Lord..." she managed, staring at the floor.


    "Ah, Alyn."


    It was a light voice, not quite melodic, not a familiar one. She looked up at a tall, slim man, with tousled greying brown hair and pale brown eyes in a lean, weathered face. His hair was caught back in a loose ponytail tied with a scrap of velvet, although some curls had escaped to bob untidily around his ears. His clothes had been in fashion about fifteen years ago; a velvet waistcoat that hung rather loosely, as though he had lost weight, and short trousers caught with ties at the knees. He was a complete stranger; she gaped at him. He smiled.


    "You have the misfortune of being my page this year, I''m afraid," said Lord Iarlaith Miervaldis.


    Tom skidded to a halt behind her as she stared at her patron, and nudged her in the side. She inhaled sharply and glared at him sidelong, dropping into the appropriate obeisance.


    "My Lord," she said, not sure what to make of his odd, self-deprecating greeting.


    "Alyn Vanyasdotter. Thank you Tom, that was very quick."


    "Milord," said Tom, and Alyn knew from his tone that he was grinning. He poked her in the side as revenge for her glare as he turned to leave.


    "Alyn. I''m sorry to drag you away from your studies, but I have need of your help."


    "Yes, my lord," said Alyn, hoping that was what he was expecting. What was he going to say? Most first year pages didn''t do much in the way of service; their main duty was to learn. Once they had learnt from their patrons, but more and more often they were taught in groups by one lord. Alyn''s father had complained about the changes, but Alyn didn''t think it made a difference who taught her all the boring stuff. She had expected to wait at least a year before doing anything more than wine service for her lord, not that she''d even done that yet. She glanced up at him; he was looking distracted, busy.


    "We have to go to the Fifth Star Court," he said. "I will need you in attendance - I''m sorry, will that be all right? I know this is very early, but -"


    In attendance at the Fifth Star Court? "Yes, my lord," she hurried to push in. "I swore I would serve you at the induction." Which you weren''t at, she thought. He looked abruptly guilty, as though she had said it out loud.


    "Yes, you did, didn''t you? I''m sorry I have neglected you," he said, looking directly at her for the first time. "Oh, get up, please. You''ve been down there long enough for five lords, and you''re making my knees hurt."


    Alyn stood up, feeling a bit disgruntled. He was hardly acting like a proper lord. Miraina''s patron, Lord Evernar, was propriety itself, all dressed in velvet with a rich, important voice. She hadn''t had a choice of patron, of course, but she still didn''t want to end up with some weird... eccentric.


    "Please pack," her lord went on. "For yourself, of course, and for me. I have some business to attend to and we must leave as soon as possible. My room is on the second floor; ask Anitia to tell you which one it is. Then bring the chests to the coach yard and wait for me there."


    Anitia the maid? He knew her by name? Alyn shook her head, confused, then hastily nodded. "Yes, my lord," she said, and turned to hurry up the stairs. She paused at the top to look down, but he was already gone. She wondered what it was that he¡¯d had to see to.


    Miervaldis'' rooms were at one end of the long corridor on the second floor of the first hall. She had gone there during her first week, hoping to catch a glimpse of her absent patron. She hurried along the richly carpeted halls, making a mental list of the things a lord might want. Clothes - but what to choose? He was hardly conventional, if what he had been wearing just now was any indication of his taste. Cleaning things? What was she going to bring?


    The room was open, and she paused in the doorway. Anitia stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. She heard Alyn''s footsteps and turned with a smile.


    "He said he''d send you up. I''ve got most of his things ready here," she said, and gestured to the big, shabby couch that occupied most of the living room. Alyn blinked at it, then looked back to the maid, wondering why she seemed to know so much more of what was going on.


    "How did you know what to put in?" Alyn asked. Anitia winked.


    "There''s not much else to pack," she said, and pulled open the door of the enormous, ornate wardrobe standing by the couch. It was all but empty. Alyn looked from it to the small pile of neatly folded clothes on the couch, confused.


    "Aren''t lords supposed to have more clothes?"


    Anitia laughed. "You''d think so," she said. "But at least it makes our jobs easier. I have to go, I''m supposed to be helping prepare for lunch. Will you be all right here?"


    "Oh - yes, of course. Thank you."


    "You''re welcome. Enjoy your trip," and Anitia hurried from the room, leaving Alyn to realise she didn''t even know where her patron''s luggage might be.


    In the end, she located two dusty clothes chests and piled the clothes inside. She had found Miervaldis'' rooms bare of almost anything of interest. The chests had been stuffed under a window seat in the small dining room, which also contained a battered table and a single chair, a lamp and a faded picture of an unfamiliar man and woman. The main living room held only the couch and wardrobe, and a tatty rug. The privy room had a few personal effects which she put on top of the clothes in one of the chests. The tiny bedroom off the dining room barely contained the bed. The last room was locked, so she couldn''t see inside. Peeking through the keyhole afforded her the view of a desk, but nothing else. It would make sense for it to be a study, but why was it locked? She straightened up, frowning. What else should she pack?


    "May I come in?"


    She spun round, shocked, and hurried to the living room. The voice had come from a man standing just outside the door to the corridor. So he can''t have seen me at the keyhole, surely? He was not someone she recognised, slim, not tall, neatly dressed in dull, dark colours. She nodded mutely, and as he came into the room, she noticed an odd scent about him. It wasn''t unpleasant, exactly, but for some reason it made her uneasy.


    "Alyn, am I right?"


    "Yes..." She left off the ''sir'', uncertain of his status.


    "I have a task for you. The eminent Lord Miervaldis is going to the Fifth Star Court, is he not?"


    Alyn gaped. He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice.


    "When you made your oath, Alyn, to whom did you first swear?"


    Caught off guard, she answered automatically.


    "The Emperor."


    "And then?"


    "Lord Miervaldis."


    "Ah," and he smiled, which didn''t help. "Then you will understand, your loyalty is first to the Emperor."


    "Yes..."


    "When you go with your patron, please be alert to what he may do. A report will be required in the event of anything... untoward."


    "Untoward?" What?


    "You understand, I''m sure." He leaned towards her, and she flinched back. "Have a safe journey, Alyn."


    "Th - thank you."


    He left the room, walking as silently across the threadbare rug as on the rich carpet of the corridor. Alyn stared after him, confused, a little frightened, but most of all, desperately curious.


    She didn''t spend much longer in her lord''s suite, although she dearly wanted to know what was in the locked study. Instead, she found a servant and asked him to take the two chests to the coach yard. Then she hurried to her own small room in the pages'' dormitory on the other side of the orchard, and pulled her little clothes chest out from under the bed. Looking at her wardrobe, she wondered if she had more clothes than her lord - but then, she wasn''t going to need most of them. She picked two alternative outfits and one dress, added her washing things and picked the whole thing up with some effort to make her way to the coach yard. Miraina caught her outside the dormitory.


    "Where are you going?" she asked, eyes alight with curiosity.


    "Fifth Star Court," Alyn said, and put the box down. "Oh, hey, give me my writing stuff. I should take that too."


    "Be careful," Miraina said as Alyn opened the chest. "You don''t want to get ink on your clean things. Anyway, why are you going to Fifth Star Court?"


    "I have no idea, but Lord Miervaldis is and I have to attend him."


    "You lucky thing! Tell me all about it when you get back?"


    "Of course," Alyn said, and picked the clothes chest up again with an effort.


    "Safe journey," Miraina called after her as she hurried down the path, ducking the apple branches to make the shortcut to the coach yard. Alyn glanced back once, but couldn''t see anything through the blossoming orchard.


    Her first thought, when she reached the coach yard, was that Miervaldis had forgotten to ask for his coach. Her second, with a shock of horror, was that she had forgotten to ask for his coach, which must surely be her task. She looked around wildly, but there was no-one in attendance except for the groom holding the heads of the two horses harnessed to the dull brown, slightly grubby-looking coach on the far side. It was unmarked with the insignia of any court, so she assumed it had to be some domestic service. The cobbled yard was otherwise bare - bare of people, of horses, of straw... and of her lord. The stable doors were open but there was no-one inside; she could make out the brown head of a curious horse poking his nose out to see what was happening.


    "Alyn?"


    She spun round to see her patron''s head in the window of the small brown coach. He beckoned. "This one''s ours. Thank you for sorting out my luggage; you can put your chest on top."


    Alyn walked over and put her chest on top of the two belonging to Lord Miervaldis, which she now saw sat next to each other on the platform at the back of the coach. From the other side, a groom came to tether hers on securely. She went to the door her lord was holding open, and climbed in.


    "Thank you," she said, seating herself opposite him, facing backwards. Miervaldis nodded. He was holding a heavy book on his lap and had a short carbon stick in his hand; he''d been making notes in the margin. When he saw her looking at him, he closed the book casually and tucked the carbon stick in his pocket. Alyn mentally winced. That''s going to leave marks all over his clothes.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    She looked around the carriage; it was as small on the inside as on the outside, but the leather seats were surprisingly comfortable. There was a Sun Court insignia discreetly placed on the sides, although the outside had been unmarked. So this wasn''t her lord''s coach? Had it -? It must have been sent by the Sun Court! She looked back at him, but before she could ask anything, the driver opened the little hatch into the carriage and spoke just over her head, making her jump.


    "Ready, my lord?"


    "Ready."


    The hatch closed, and she heard the driver whistle to the horses. The carriage rolled sedately out of the coachyard and down the long drive, between the horse chestnut trees in their new green leaves. The sun shone through them, making dappled patterns in the coach where it came through the window. Alyn gazed out of the window; she hadn''t been outside Court since she had arrived in the autumn, brought by her father in the family coach with her mother and brothers and sister. All the other pages had been arriving too; a cacophony of coaches from all over the country disgorging excited fourteen-year-olds come to start their service and their younger siblings, jealous and excited in equal measure, older pages looking lofty and enjoying their privileged positions, and parents looking by turns harassed, proud and confused. Her older brother Byran, normally assigned to the Eighth Star Court, had pontificated about her duties, and Illiana, her older sister, made eyes at some of the older pages and occasionally wondered, out loud and pointedly, at Alyn''s choice. Her littlest brothers ran around chasing each other and sometimes other small children, until her father bellowed stentoriously at them to behave, which had only worked for a few minutes at best. The chamberlain had been attempting to bring order to the tumult, assisted by three or four servants all running around with huge piles of paper.


    Alyn remembered her first sight of the Court after they had driven up the long drive, tall and gracious through the glorious golds and browns of the autumn horse chestnut trees. It had seemed to preside calmly, as though this regular circus was no more than a brief interruption to years of order, and it expected all to resume in due course. Which it had the following day, when after the induction and the welcoming banquet all the parents and families had driven away and she and her classmates had started their lessons.


    Today, though, the drive was empty except for their small coach, silent except for the clop of the horses'' hooves and the whistling song of the birds outside. The dappled sun warmed her face, making her smile. There was an excited feeling in her stomach; this was new, this was different, and right now, it was fun. She dropped back into the carriage and looked over at her patron, wondering if she could ask about what they were doing. He was looking at the book again, but the carbon stick was still in his pocket. She wondered what he had been doing with it. Why would a lord write on a book? Books were expensive, and the ones that nobles bought were stories for fun and relaxation. Nobody would need to make notes on a romance. Scholars'' books were different, but no lord would have something like that. She peeked surreptitiously at the book, but with it open on his lap she couldn''t make out the title, and the text was too small and cramped to read upside down. Trying to read it felt a bit like looking through the keyhole of the study, so she looked away again, feeling a little guilty.


    The coach finally reached the end of the Court''s drive and turned onto the big road that led towards the Sun and Moon Courts. Fifth Star Court was quite a way from Fourth Star Court, despite its name; she knew they would head towards the central Courts and turn onto one of the orbital roads that ran around them before heading back out again to their destination.


    "My lord," she started, unable to contain her curiosity any more. "What are we going to Fifth Star Court for?"


    Miervaldis closed the book, marking his page with a long white feather.


    "How do pages learn?" he asked. Alyn blinked, surprised.


    "There are lessons..." she began, unsure of what he wanted.


    "No," he interrupted, then looked thoughtful. "Well, maybe sometimes, but do you really learn anything from them?"


    "No," she admitted.


    "No. Pages learn from following, from copying, from trying things out. Most of all, they learn from listening. I''m sorry I haven''t been around to train you properly - I didn''t actually realise I had a page until recently." He looked rueful; Alyn was too busy trying to work out what he meant to react to that revelation. "But now, well, I have a feeling I know why we''ve been called to the Fifth Star Court, but I don''t know for sure. So I won''t tell you. You''ll see soon enough, anyway. But when we are there, you will be silent. You will listen - to everything, but most of all, to me. And you will do as I say, without question. Do you understand?"


    Alyn stared at him. His face was suddenly serious, and he was looking straight at her. She dropped her eyes, then looked back up.


    "Yes, my lord. But -"


    "But?"


    "If I have a question..."


    "What do you think?"


    "I should wait for the right time?"


    "Good," Miervaldis said. "Yes. When we''re alone, if possible. I will answer as much as I can - truly, I''m not trying to keep you ignorant - but if I''m right, this could be a difficult situation, and I need you to be discreet."


    "I understand," Alyn said, and felt that thrill of excitement deepen.


    "I''m sure you do," and he smiled, relaxing a bit.


    "Can I ask a question, then?"


    "Now, yes. Ask away."


    "Where is your carriage?"


    He smiled again. "I don''t keep one. It''s expensive, and I rarely use them. This was kindly sent for our use, which is why it looks like it doesn''t belong to anyone. Its appearance is deceptive, though."


    "What?"


    "Look outside."


    Alyn did so, not sure what he meant. They were still on the radial road, and the sun was now high overhead. Fields stretched away on either side of the broad, paved surface, with the occasional figure visible at a distance bending to their work. Closer to... closer to the road whisked past at quite a rate, and now she paid attention to it, she realised that the horses'' hooves were beating out the cadence of a canter. She turned back, surprised.


    "We''re going really fast," she said, and felt stupid for not realising it before, given how the carriage rocked and swayed.


    "It''s built for speed," her lord confirmed. "We''ll be changing horses when we reach the ring road, and again before we get to the Fifth Star Court. Hopefully we''ll be there before the end of the day."


    Alyn wondered again what was so important about Lord Miervaldis - or the situation at Fifth Star Court - that would require such a coach, such a speed. Which would require such discretion. Then the words of the dark man in Miervaldis'' rooms came back to her, and she shivered, suddenly a little afraid. There was more going on here than she knew, and she felt out of her depth.


    Across from her, Miervaldis shut the book again with a muted thud which emphasised its mass. She looked up at him.


    "Alyn," he said, "I must confess, I didn''t know I had a page until about two weeks ago. I - well, it doesn''t matter. But I know very little about you. Would you mind -" he looked a little embarrassed, she thought - "would you mind telling me about yourself?"


    She stared at him. It wasn''t such a very odd request, she supposed, but, it did seem a bit strange. And he looked almost apologetic. Mentally, she shrugged.


    "My family live in the demesne of the Third Star Court, in the west," she said. "I''ve got five brothers and a sister who wants to marry a lord as fast as possible." She wondered how that was going; surely a betrothal would have to be arranged for Illiana soon?


    "And you chose a different route." It wasn''t a question as such, but she answered it anyway.


    "Yes, it was all right because of Illiana. And it''s a good education, my father says, although he complained about how the lessons work now when my brother told him about them."


    "What do you think?"


    "Sorry?"


    "Do you think it''s a good education? You''ve only been having lessons for six months or so, but what do you think of them?"


    Alyn frowned. Why would anyone care what a page thought? How honest should she be? She glanced at Miervaldis; he was watching her with careful interest. Why does he care what I think about the lessons?


    "Well... they''re a bit boring. I''m sorry! But... well, I suppose if my patron were Lord Fitzhugh, that would be the same, so... and it''s better for the lords if their pages are taught all together, it means they can do the important stuff and not be distracted."


    "Do you really think that?"


    "Think what?"


    "That it''s better for the lords to have their pages taught together, to keep the pages away?"


    "Why wouldn''t it be better?"


    He said nothing, just shrugged a little in a way that suggested she should keep going. She paused. What is good about having a page? Something Byran had said to her once came back to her mind. What is good about teaching a little brother?


    "I suppose... having a page means teaching a subordinate. And it''s a good thing to teach because it makes you think about what you''re teaching." Her mad plan five years ago to teach Davian and Simman, two and three years younger than her respectively, how to whittle came to mind. She hadn''t achieved anything more than a badly cut finger for Davian and a scolding for herself, but she had learned how hard it is to pass on knowledge and techniques that she didn''t fully understand herself. Miervaldis nodded, his eyes implying he wanted to hear more.


    "Um... it''s better for a page to learn directly, too, one to one. That''s better than a class." She stopped, not sure what else she could say.


    "And what is good about the classes?"


    She stared at him. I thought the classes were bad? But he just looked expectantly at her, so she thought again.


    "They''re good because... because learning from lots of people means learning lots of stuff. I mean... if I attended you all the time, my lord, I''d learn about attending and I''d learn the stuff you know. But if I attended you some of the time and went to lessons, I''d learn about attending and I''d learn the stuff you know and I''d learn more from other lords. And it means people with, um... well, lords who aren''t so good at teaching can learn from other people too."


    "So which system is better?"


    "I... both? Can you have both?"


    He gave her a long, thoughtful look, then glanced down. "Perhaps," he said. "That might be best. Thank you, Alyn."


    "Can I ask a question?"


    "Yes, go on."


    "Why didn''t you know about me until two weeks ago? And if you think the current lessons are a bad way to teach, why... why didn''t you do anything two weeks ago?" He looked surprised, then strangely amused.


    "I didn''t say I thought the current lessons are bad," he said, and Alyn realised he hadn''t said anything about his opinions at all. "But in answer to your question, I didn''t realise you were here because I was away until two weeks ago. I was visiting my lands, and then some friends. I''m sure they sent a letter, but it never caught up to me. When I came back, they told me about you and I had to take some time to tidy a few things up. Then the summons to the Fifth Star Court came, and, well, I am sorry. I will try to be a better patron in the future, although you''ll have to bear with me. I''ve not done this before."


    That was surprising, given how old he seemed, but the Fourth Star Court was quite small and not very important, so probably got fewer pages than usual. Alyn smiled, almost involuntarily, at his apology, and the conversation lapsed. What he had said about visiting his lands bothered her; she thought about it over again, and realised that if he had been visiting his lands, and his friends, he must have been doing it for almost six months or longer. And in all that time, he had been out of touch with the Court? That didn''t seem very likely... or if it was true, it seemed a bit suspicious. She thought about the other things he had said, dissecting his words in her head to think over, and slowly realised that she had done most of the talking, and even when he had spoken, he had revealed very little about himself. And for all that he''d said he wanted to know about her, she''d said hardly anything about herself, her likes and dislikes, her family and her friends. No, he had been after something else. He was asking me that stuff to see how I think. What kind of person I am. He didn''t care about my family, or about the lessons. He wanted to know how I think. And... he was very good at getting that out of me while giving nothing away.


    What kind of a lord uses questions like that?


    Within the hour they had reached the first junction and the horses had been swiftly changed. Alyn watched the fields whisk by, punctuated by tracts of forest and the occasional bridge. The longest bridge was the one with seven arches that reached over the mighty river Voront. She watched a barge on the Voront being pulled slowly upstream by two heavy horses, patiently plodding up the towpath tugging their burden against the gentle, insistent current. The sun reached its zenith and began to descend. Miervaldis read his book.


    Much later, it seemed, they came to the second junction, to turn onto the radial road south-east to the Fifth Star Court. Here they stopped for a bit longer; Miervaldis spoke to the men in charge of the way station and they brought out bread and cheese for him and for Alyn, who had not even realised she was hungry until she saw the food. She ate it so quickly she nearly choked, and they gave her ice cold water to wash it down with. When she had recovered from her subsequent coughing fit and the fresh horses were harnessed, they started again up the road to Fifth Star Court.


    The sun sank towards the horizon, beginning to colour the western sky behind them a pale pink shading to deep gold. Alyn stared out of the window still, although the views were very similar to the countryside around the Fourth Star Court. The trees now cast long shadows on the road, and rooks whirled around their tops, cawing loudly as the coach rattled by underneath. The coachman never spoke a word, and Miervaldis read until the light grew too dim, then laid his book aside and shut his eyes. Alyn sat back against the soft cushions but kept looking out of the window, waiting for her first glimpse of the Fifth Star Court.


    For all her good intentions, she woke when the coach finally came to a stop in the coachyard. She pushed up from the seat and stared outside. The sun had mostly sunk; tendrils of light-touched clouds still traced the horizon, but it was otherwise dark. The coachyard, however, blazed with light; lanterns were arranged everywhere. Above it, the bulk of Fifth Star Court loomed into the sky, squat and angular to her eyes where Fourth Star Court was gracious and elegant. Hundreds of lit windows dotted its walls, making its size very clear; it was at least twice as big as Fourth Star Court, and she thought there must be more beyond what she could see.


    The coachman jumped down from his seat - she heard his boots hit the cobbles - and spoke to the grooms who came running out to meet them, carrying yet more lanterns. Across from her, Miervaldis opened his eyes and sat up, stretching carefully. The door opened, and a well-dressed man stuck his head in.


    "Welcome, my lord," he said briskly. "If you will come this way? I will take you to the chamberlain."


    Miervaldis climbed out of the carriage, and Alyn moved to follow him, becoming uncomfortably aware that she desperately needed to relieve herself. She bit her lip and held on, following silently behind her lord and the steward who was leading the way into the house. Behind her, an army of grooms came to deal with the weary horses, and porters followed to take the chests from the coach.


    The steward led the way into a wide, well-lit hall with an ornately tiled floor and narrow, gracious columns lining the walls. At the other end, two staircases ran up to a common landing, with double doors leading to the next room. A plump, prosperous-looking man dressed in a long dark robe and bearing a staff of office was descending the right hand staircase. The steward murmured something to Miervaldis, who nodded. The plump man came to meet them, eyes moving rapidly from Alyn to her lord and back again. Alyn tried not to cross her legs.


    "Lord Miervaldis," the man said. "I am Emilio Otakar, the chamberlain of this court. Be welcome here."


    "Thank you," said Miervaldis. "This is Alyn Vanyasdotter, my page. She will be attending me."


    The chamberlain looked at Alyn again. She met his gaze and saw worry lines on his brow, and a tic near his eye.


    "Be welcome," he said to her, and she dipped in the appropriate courtesy.


    "Thank you, Chamberlain," she said, wondering when it would be polite to ask about the privies. There was a pause as Miervaldis and the chamberlain looked at each other, then the shorter man nodded to himself and turned.


    "If you''ll come this way, please, my lord," he said. "I''ll show you to your rooms. And then, if I might beg your indulgence...."


    "The Emperor asked me to come," Miervaldis said quietly. "Whatever is necessary, please don''t hesitate." Alyn sucked in her breath. She''d thought, from the coach, that the summons might have come from the Sun Court, but to hear it confirmed - and not just the Sun Court , the Emperor himself - was still a shock. The chamberlain flinched a little, then nodded and walked forward without saying anything.


    The rooms they were led to were luxurious and well positioned, facing south. Tall windows would let the sun in during the day, and plenty of lamps kept them bright at night. Their chests were already there, looking a bit lonely and somewhat shabby on the thick, bright rug in the middle of the floor. There was the main sitting room, a study, a wash room and two bedrooms, one much like a closet for Alyn, and one almost the same size as the sitting room, with its own fireplace and a large, four-poster bed. Thankfully, the chamberlain left them there to clean up after the journey; as soon as he had left, Alyn bolted for the privies at the end of the corridor.


    A short while later, relieved, refreshed and feeling hungry, she followed the chamberlain and her lord to a small room two floors down. The court was enormous and labyrinthine; by the time they reached their destination she had the horrible feeling she''d never find her way back on her own. The room was plain but still rich, and when she sat in the chair Miervaldis gestured her to, she sank into soft cushions which all but encouraged her to sleep. The chamberlain sat, but on the edge of his chair. His worried look had deepened. He didn''t speak.


    "Please," Lord Miervaldis said eventually, "tell me what the problem is." The chamberlain winced and looked down, then back up again. Alyn held her breath.


    "I need your help, my lord," he said. "Lord Cassian needs your help."


    "Lord Cassian?" Miervaldis frowned slightly. "I don''t think I know him."


    "No, probably you would not," agreed the chamberlain.


    "So... how can I help him? And you?" Miervaldis pressed, after a further silence.


    "I am hoping you can help clear his name."


    "Clear his name of?" Alyn heard frustration in her lord''s voice, not quite masked. The chamberlain looked away and back again.


    "Of murder, my lord."

 Chapter 2

    Alyn stared from the chamberlain to her lord and back again. Otakar looked miserable and pressured; his hands twisted together under Miervaldis'' scrutiny, and he looked anywhere but at his guests. Miervaldis looked calm, with just a hint of a frown. Alyn kept very still, not wanting to draw attention to herself. A murder? And a lord was accused?


    After a short silence, the chamberlain carried on haltingly. "I - he, he was found this morning. Early this morning, by the maid. He was in his room..."


    "Who was?"


    "The scribe. Jaquan. I, he was Lord Cassian''s scribe, you see, and he was in Lord Cassian''s rooms, and no-one else could have been there..."


    "I see," said Miervaldis, looking thoughtful.


    "Thank you for coming, my lord!" said the chamberlain in a rush. "I didn''t know what to do, but the Sun Court were very quick to respond.."


    "Well, of course," said Miervaldis drily. "They couldn''t possibly allow a lord to be accused of murder, now, could they?" He stood up. "I know it''s late, but I would like to see the victim, please. Has he been moved?"


    "N - no, my lord. Well... he''s been moved a bit, but he''s still mostly where he was found." The chamberlain had gone pasty pale, Alyn noticed. She got up to stand unobtrusively behind her lord. He glanced at her once, and nodded slightly.


    The chamberlain led them from the room and through another bewildering maze of corridors, stairs, doors and halls. The opulence of Fifth Star Court never diminished, no matter how small and unimportant the location. Alyn, gazing around her as they walked, felt a bit overwhelmed by it all. She saw few other people, but it was quite late by now. One had to be a page, darting away on an errand somewhere, and there were several servants carrying various things, but the halls seemed very quiet. The chamberlain walked quickly, unevenly, and Miervaldis'' legs were long; she had to keep scurrying after them to keep up. If she didn''t, she thought, she would be lost for ever in this luxurious maze.


    Eventually they climbed a short staircase and came to a hall with several doors leading from it.


    "These are Lord Cassian''s rooms," said the chamberlain, a bit out of breath. "On the left is his personal suite, on the right are the receiving rooms. Straight ahead are the servants'' rooms, including the study where the scribe was..."


    "Who found the scribe?"


    "The maid, my lord. This morning."


    Miervaldis nodded, and the chamberlain produced a key and unlocked the middle door, then stood aside to allow him to enter. Alyn followed close on his heels, and the chamberlain brought up the rear, locking the door behind them. There was a short corridor which opened up after a few paces to a large, square room with several desks. There was no doubt which was Lord Cassian''s; it stood on a raised dais, and was adorned with gold leaf. It also looked quite unused. In contrast, the other desks were undecorated but covered with piles of paper and books, old quills and stumps of pencil. The desk furthest from the door was messier than the rest; its papers weren''t piled but scattered, with several on the floor. Alyn didn''t see those, however; she was looking at the man slumped on the chair with his head on the desk. There was something horribly wrong with his head; she looked away, not wanting to see any more.


    Miervaldis had also paused, but he was looking around alertly, surveying the room. Alyn made herself do the same, taking in the door to the left, away from the desk and its encumbent, and the tall windows, all closed. The chamberlain fidgeted behind them, making small shushing noises with his feet in the heavy carpet. Eventually, Miervaldis moved towards the corpse and she followed him, unwillingly curious and not wanting to be derelict in her duty.


    Jaquan the scribe''s most obvious feature was a large, very visible dent in the back of his head. Alyn found her eyes drawn to it even as she tried not to look, and her gorge rose. It looked like he had been clubbed down from behind with something hard. Blood was matted in his hair, and his face, turned towards the desk, was slack and empty. A sheaf of crumpled papers lay partly under his cheek. He had had a weaselly face, and death did him no favours. Alyn looked away at the floor, which like the desk was covered with papers, but made no move to pick them up. Miervaldis bent close over the corpse but did not touch it, muttering quietly to himself. The chamberlain was still fidgeting.


    Eventually, her lord stood up and turned round.


    "Might I have some gloves, please," he said, and his voice was a surprise in the silence surrounding the dead man. "And a bowl of hot water and soap." The chamberlain started, nodded, and hurried off, looking like he was all too glad to be out of that room. The key clicked in the door behind him, and Alyn tried not to think about how that meant she was locked in a room with a corpse. Miervaldis looked down at her.


    "That got rid of him, at least," he said cheerfully. "What can you see?"


    Alyn gaped at him. Surely he could see too? But he was waiting for her, so she gathered her wits and responded.


    "There''s a dead man on a desk, my lord," she said, feeling a bit stupid. "And there are papers all over the desk and the floor."


    "What of the papers?"


    "They''re just loose bits of paper," Alyn felt confused. "Stuff he was working on. The other desks have paper all over."


    Miervaldis shrugged, nodded, and bent down to pick up one of the papers, which lay crumpled in the middle of a scattered sheaf. He smoothed it out on the desk, frowned, then looked at the corpse again.


    "What do you think happened here?"


    "Um, he was working on something, then someone came in and, um, hit him?"


    "He was working on something?"


    "Well, there''s the papers crumpled under his cheek." She pointed. "And his hand has ink spots on it." Jaquan had fallen with his right hand out on the desk, and the black smudges were clearly visible. Lord Miervaldis nodded, his expression approving.


    "Good," he said. "So what''s missing?"


    Alyn frowned at the desk, not seeing the dead man any more. He had been working on the papers he had fallen on. He must have been writing, because his hand had ink spots on it. But the well-used ink stone''s deep cavity was dry, and the water jar beside it was capped. And...


    "There''s no pen," she said. "Nothing to write with."


    "Exactly," said her lord. "What else is missing?"


    She looked around, but couldn''t see anything obvious.


    "Somebody bludgeoned this man," Miervaldis said, and his voice had a harsh edge to it. "And yet, there is nothing that could have been used to do it. So whoever it was took their weapon with them."


    Alyn felt cold at the reminder that this was the scene of a murder, and simultaneously felt stupid that she had to be reminded of that. The scraping sound of the key in the lock echoed in the big room as the chamberlain re-entered, and Miervaldis turned to face him, to receive the gloves and the bowl. The man looked dreadful, she thought, white and shaky, and he refused to look at the corpse directly, turning to one side as he approached Lord Miervaldis.


    Alyn stepped to one side, watching her lord as he pulled on the white gloves and bent over Jaquan''s body. Miervaldis first examined the head, probing gently around the wound and fingering the matted strands of hair. He then eased the body from the desk, and worked over it thoroughly, as though the wound on the man''s head could not account for his death. He made no noise as he worked, gave no indication as to what he might find, although the chamberlain turned away and made several choking noises when Miervaldis turned the body over. He finished with the hands, running his gloved fingers through Jaquan''s, although they were obviously stiff.


    "What sort of man was Jaquan?" The chamberlain jumped at the question. Miervaldis pulled off the gloves and washed his hands thoroughly in the bowl of water.


    "Well, I don''t really know, my lord," Otakar said feebly. "I didn''t speak to him that much. He never seemed to have any friends - but of course, I wouldn''t know." Miervaldis nodded, and set the bowl aside.


    "I''m finished here," he said. "It''s very late; thank you for taking the trouble to show us what happened. I would like to speak to Lord Cassian tomorrow, please."


    "Of course, my lord. Ah, he rises late..."


    "Please let me know when he is ready to receive us."


    "Of course," Otakar said again, and led them from the chamber. He seemed much happier away from the gruesome scene. "Is there anyone else you would like to speak to, my lord?"


    "The maid who found the body. Other than that, no-one. Not yet."


    "Very well. I''ll make sure she sees you tomorrow morning."


    "Thank you."


    The chamberlain led the way back to their rooms - another bewildering trip through hallways and corridors, up and down staircases. By the time he stopped in front of her chamber door, Alyn felt like she was about to fall asleep on her feet.


    "I''ll make arrangements for your page, my lord," Otakar said, almost cheerfully. "I''m sure she can join in with the other pages."


    "Thank you," said Miervaldis, and led the way inside before Alyn could say anything. The door shut behind them, and he locked it, then turned to face her.


    "You may ask questions now, if you wish," he said. "Thank you for your patience."


    "Why do I have to go to lessons?" Alyn burst out, indignant. "I''m supposed to be serving you!"


    Miervaldis raised an amused eyebrow. "And that''s bound to be more fun than lessons?"


    "Well... yes," she admitted. "But really -"


    "I need you to go to the lessons," Miervaldis said. "I know nobody here, and nothing of the situation, and nobody is going to talk to a lord who''s clearly here to accuse someone of murder. You - well, they may not talk to you either, but you have a much greater chance of overhearing something."


    "What sort of thing?" Alyn couldn''t imagine overhearing a conversation with the murderer.


    "Oh, anything about Lord Cassian, or his scribe. What sort of people they were, what sort of things they did. As well as missing the murder weapon, I can''t see a motive for Jaquan''s death, and that''s probably more important. Do you see?"


    "I do," said Alyn reluctantly. Miervaldis smiled at her.


    "Good girl. I''ll try and make sure you are with me for as much of the investigation as possible. You are supposed to be attending me, after all. Is there anything else?"


    "Um, well..." she hesitated.


    "Go on."


    "Why are we here? I mean, why are you here? If you know no-one, then..."


    Miervaldis sighed.


    "Some time ago, I happened to be in the Sun Court when a situation arose. I helped work out the problem, and the Emperor was grateful. However, it means that he remembers me."


    "But why is this so important?"


    "Because at the moment, the only suspect is Lord Cassian. I expect that he has no alibi, nothing to exonerate him. And it is abhorrent that a Lord should be accused of murder. It goes against all custom."


    "But... what if he did it?"


    "Then that''s what I will tell the Emperor. But it is good to be sure, with such a crime, and the Emperor thinks I can find out the truth." He grinned ruefully. "We should sleep; we''ve got a full day tomorrow. Or at least, a full morning."


    Still full of questions, most of which she could not articulate, Alyn dragged her chest into her tiny room, sat down on the bed to undress, and fell asleep before even managing to take off her socks.


    In the morning, she woke in time to hear the maid knock at the door, and her lord''s quiet response to come in, please. She sat up hurriedly, heart thumping, but heard the tray being put down and realised it was just breakfast, not the girl who had found Jaquan. The maid left and closed the door behind her, and Alyn heard the click of the lock as Miervaldis turned the key, then his footsteps as he approached her door. There was a knock.


    "Breakfast is here," he said through the door.


    "Coming, my lord!" She hopped out of bed, fumbled for fresh clothes and pulled a brush through her hair. When she went through to the main room, Miervaldis had already started on the food; he raised an eyebrow at her and jerked his head towards the wash room. Obediently, she went to wash.


    There was plenty left when she came back; bread, cheese, tomatoes and olives, with some ham on the side. The olives were different from the ones at Fourth Star Court, but of course every Court was served by the lands around, which meant every Court had its own specialities. The tomatoes were different too, a bit smaller but tart and juicy. There was an orange, something Alyn had only had rarely at home and never at Court. Trying to get into the peel, she dug her nails too far and squirted orange juice across the table, only just missing Miervaldis, who was drinking his coffee and reading his book. He looked up, curious, and she flushed.


    The maid came to collect the tray a little later, followed by the Chamberlain, who waited until she had gone before starting.


    "My Lord Miervaldis, I hope you slept well," he said pompously. In the morning, he was looking a lot better than he had last night. His colour had returned, and he no longer sounded ill.


    "Yes, thank you," Alyn''s lord said. "I would like to speak with the maid, please, the girl who found the body."


    "Of course, my lord. I will make sure she is sent here. And, ah, your page -"


    "Alyn will stay with me for the present," Miervaldis said smoothly. "Where do the pages have their lessons normally?"


    "Um," the chamberlain started, taken aback by the interruption, then recovered himself. "In the Upper Chamber by the Garden of Seven Streams. They will be at lessons from ten in the morning until lunchtime, then again from about two until four. Will you need your page -"


    "I will, for the present," Miervaldis interrupted again. "I will make sure she comes to as many of the lessons as possible. I am ready for the maid now."


    Thus dismissed, the chamberlain stuttered a bit, then bobbed perfunctorily and left, looking indignant from behind.


    "You''re going to have to learn your way around fast, you know," Miervaldis said, turning to face Alyn.


    "I will," she said cheerfully. It sounded like fun, exploring, and she had enjoyed learning her way around the maze that made up Fourth Star Court. Better than lessons, anyway. Miervaldis moved around the room, picking things up and putting them down; he poked his head into the study and opened the curtains there to let in the light. Then there came a tentative knock at the door, and he nodded at Alyn to open it.


    Outside stood a short, stocky girl with curly black hair badly confined under a white cap. She was twisting her hands together nervously, and looking anywhere except at Alyn.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "Milord said to come here," she muttered, and Alyn, unsure of what to say, just held the door open wider. The girl didn''t budge, and for a moment they stood there in silent tableau. Then Miervaldis'' voice came from within.


    "Come in, please."


    The maid jumped, and scurried in. Alyn shut the door, locked it, and followed her through the living room to the study, where her lord sat behind the small desk. There was a chair in front of the desk, and after a bit of persuasion, the maid sat down there. Alyn stood quietly by the door.


    "What''s your name?"


    "Ythilda, m''lord."


    "You found the body, am I right?"


    "Yes, m''lord." She spoke very quietly, and there was a tremor in her voice.


    "You''re not in trouble," Miervaldis said gently. "No-one is blaming you for anything. But I do need to know what you found, please. Will you tell me?"


    There was a pause, then the girl looked up again, and although from behind Alyn couldn''t see her expression, her voice sounded a lot calmer.


    "Yes, m''lord."


    "Go on then, please."


    "Well, I was doing the rounds, you see, m''lord. I always come by the rooms, to clean the grates, lay the fireplace and take the rubbish out. So I went in as usual, and there he was on the table. I could tell - I could tell he was, I mean, he wasn''t -" she stopped, swallowing noisily.


    "All right," Miervaldis said. "I understand. Did you go near him?"


    "A bit, m''lord. I mean, I wanted to check, see, that it really was what I thought..."


    "Of course. And then?"


    "Then I went for help. I never, never went close, I didn''t touch him, m''lord!"


    "Who did you go to?"


    "The chamberlain."


    "And what did he say?"


    "He said to run to the stables and tell a messenger to make ready, and to get the physicker to come to Lord Cassian''s room."


    "So you went to the stables?"


    "No, I went to get the physicker, but his room''s on the way to the stables. Then I went to find a messenger, then.. I went back to the rooms, but there were people inside, so I figured I should get on with my rounds."


    "Of course." There was a pause. "What time did you come to the room, Ythilda?"


    "It would be a bit past dawn - I start at dawn but it''s not the first room I do."


    "And did you have to unlock the door?"


    "Yes, m''lord. I have a key, all the housekeeping maids do."


    "Of course, of course." He frowned absently. Alyn remembered there had only been one other exit from the study, presumably leading to Lord Cassian''s chambers.


    "Well, that''s nearly everything," he said finally, and Alyn saw Ythilda relax. "Just a couple more questions, if you don''t mind. Could you tell me, what was Jaquan the scribe like?"


    The maid was silent for a bit, head down, as if thoughtful. Then, "I didn''t like him," she said frankly. "I''m sorry, m''lord, but it''s the truth. He was always nasty in his ways, although he was never so to me myself. But some of my friends..."


    "I see. Did you know it was him when you found him?"


    "No, m''lord, I couldn''t tell..." she tailed off uneasily.


    "And Lord Cassian?"


    "M''lord?"


    "Did you see him? Talk to him?"


    "Oh no!" It came out strongly, and she shook her head. "I don''t - well, I never saw him around that morning anyway."


    "You don''t what?"


    "Oh, um, nothing, m''lord."


    Miervaldis eyed the girl, but she stayed silent.


    "Well, thank you for coming, and for being so forthright," he said. "You can go now. If you do remember anything that you think I should know - anything at all - please come and tell me. You can come at any time, whenever you want, and if you can''t find me, please tell my page." He gestured to Alyn, and Ythilda started, as though she hadn''t realised the other girl was there. She relaxed a little when she saw her, perhaps realising Alyn was younger, and nodded.


    "I will, m''lord."


    Miervaldis waited until she had let herself out, then went to the door and locked it. He turned round.


    "What do you think?"


    Alyn had been expecting the question. "I think she''s telling the truth," she said. "Probably. But I don''t think she liked Lord Cassian."


    Miervaldis raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "No, I don''t think she does. Anything else strike you?"


    Alyn thought over the conversation. "She came on her rounds, she found the body, she didn''t investigate -" remembering the sight, she shuddered in sympathy - "then she went for help. It seemed quite logical, I think. She didn''t scream, at least."


    "No, she seemed quite calm, given everything. What about the locked door?"


    "It depends where the other door to the chamber leads. Is it to Lord Cassian''s rooms?"


    "I expect so. That will make it harder, of course."


    "Harder?"


    "Harder to prove his innocence. If it exists. Hmmm." He frowned, deep in thought. "Alyn, could you get some tea, please? You''ll have to work out where the kitchen is, I''m afraid. I want to think a bit before we see Lord Cassian."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said cheerfully, and hurried out. She heard him lock the door behind her.


    Their rooms were towards one end of a long corridor, richly carpeted, of course. Alyn scurried down to the other end, where it opened up onto a long, gracious hall with a staircase. Guessing that the kitchen was further down, she bounced down the stairs and set off at random, doing her best to remember where she''d come from. There were plenty of servants along the corridors and the occasional noble, but she didn''t stop to ask directions. She wanted to explore a bit, find her own way around, and so she ventured through halls and down corridors, down staircases and once or twice into ornamental gardens where the sun lit bright streams of water splashing elegantly into stone bowls. Eventually, she became aware of a rich meaty scent, and followed her nose through three more hallways until she reached the enormous main kitchen.


    She was stopped on the threshold by an officious-looking under-cook who crossed his arms and glared down his nose at her.


    "What do you want?"


    "My lord wants tea, please," she said politely. Alienating cooks was always a bad idea.


    "Your lord? You''re a page? Why aren''t you in lessons?"


    "I''m serving my lord," Alyn said a bit indignantly. Since when did pages have to be in lessons? Serving was the default, wasn''t it?


    "I don''t know you. Who''s your lord?" He still looked belligerent, but he did turn and call over his shoulder, "tea on a tray, Bensen!"


    "Lord Miervaldis. We just arrived," and struck by an idea, Alyn edged closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "He''s here about the murder, you know."


    "Really?" There was still suspicion in his tone, but he sounded more convinced. Alyn nodded importantly, hoping she hadn''t made a mistake.


    "We saw it all last night," she said, trying to sound like she was confiding hidden truths. Interest gleamed in the under-cook''s eyes.


    "S''true," piped a voice from behind the under-cook, and a pair of bright blue eyes gleamed cheek at her from beneath badly cut blond hair. "I saw them coming in, I did."


    "What do you know, Bensen?" The under-cook took the tray, which had a pot of tea and two cups on, with a set of neatly-arranged, elaborately-decorated biscuits and a jug of milk.


    "Like I said. I saw them coming in. And I saw them going in."


    "To Lord Cassian''s chambers?"


    "That''s right! Did you find anything?" Bensen addressed Alyn directly.


    "The body," she said, receiving the tray from the under-cook. "It was really horrible."


    "Do you think Lord Cassian did it?"


    "I don''t know. It''s too soon to tell, really."


    "I bet he did," said Bensen. "Just the sort of thing he''d do. He killed a man in a duel once, you know -"


    "Shut up," interrupted the under-cook. "You shouldn''t be talking so, you know that. Not here, anyway." He cast a glance up the corridor where a pair of servants were carrying boxes. Alyn wondered if he wanted to know more too.


    "I should go," she said. "I have to get this back."


    "Do you know where you''re going?" Bensen asked.


    "Not really," she admitted.


    "Where''re your lord''s chambers?" said the under-cook.


    "I don''t know. Um, a few floors up, and a bit away from here..." The under-cook glared at her, but Bensen ducked under his arm and popped through the doorway to stand with Alyn.


    "I know where to go," he said cheerfully. "Follow me," and he was off up the corridor. Alyn turned to follow, and swung back, steadying the tray as the cups rattled.


    "Thank you very much," she said, bobbed politely, then set off after Bensen''s retreating back, balancing the heavy tray.


    It took a good ten minutes to get back to the rooms, and Alyn was a little worried that Miervaldis might have gone off to interview someone without her. When she knocked, however, she heard him come over and unlock the door. She nudged it open and sidled through, then noticed Bensen staring unabashedly at her lord. She turned, to block his view as best she could.


    "Thanks very much," she said cheerfully, then kicked the door shut with her foot, almost in his face. Turning back, she saw Miervaldis hiding a smile.


    "Who was that?"


    "One of the cooks," she said, putting the tray down carefully on the little table between the chairs. "Or maybe an assistant. His name''s Bensen, he showed me the way back. Oh, he and an under-cook were talking about Lord Cassian -" she cut off as her lord waved a hand at her.


    "Thank you for listening, but I''d prefer to interview him first, if you don''t mind," he said. "I know I asked Ythilda, but it''s probably better if I kept as open a mind as possible."


    Alyn poured the tea and kept silent. Miervaldis paced to the tall windows and peered out. They overlooked a perfectly-cut circular expanse of lawn with a fountain at the centre, and roses around the edges.


    "The physicker will be here shortly," he said suddenly, turning round. "Oh, have some tea yourself if you want some. Thank you." He came over to the table, picked up his cup - without the saucer - and wandered into the study to look out of the windows some more. Alyn perched on the edge of the seat and sipped her own tea, thinking about what Bensen had said. She was very curious about Lord Cassian.


    After a short while, there was a knock at the door, and she put down her cup and went to open it. The physicker was a short man with thinning grey hair and a harried expression. He had an apprentice with him; a gangly boy who hung back and eyed Alyn warily from beneath a floppy fringe of dark hair. Alyn immediately took a dislike to him.


    "I''m Evan Hughes, here to see Lord Miervaldis," the physicker said. "Is he in? I hope this won''t take long."


    "This way please, sir," said Alyn politely. He may be only middle class, but her father had always expressed respect for the learned, be they philosophers, physickers or even mages. The physicker nodded and followed her in, his apprentice behind.


    "In the study," Alyn said, and gestured; Evan Hughes went through, followed by his apprentice, but Miervaldis spoke from the study.


    "If we could speak in private, I would appreciate it." Hughes looked a bit surprised, but gestured to his apprentice to remain in the main room. Alyn glanced hesitantly to the study, and Miervaldis winked slightly at her, from which she judged she was supposed to gently quiz the apprentice. Annoyed, she flopped down in one of the luxurious chairs and eyed the unprepossessing prospect as the study doors closed.


    "So you''re apprenticed to the physicker then?" she began, not sure how to do an unofficial questioning. The boy shrugged, and nodded. "Is it hard?"


    "Not really." There was a long, awkward silence.


    "Were you there when he saw the dead man?" Clumsy, she berated herself, but she had no idea how to do it. Strangely, the boy started talking, as though it was something to be proud of. Maybe it was, for him.


    "I was! We were called out early, but not so early we weren''t up. I''ve never seen a murder before."


    "Me neither," Alyn said with feeling. "What happened?" She meant, what had the physicker done, but the apprentice took it differently.


    "He got bashed with something, that''s plain. He never did that himself. I don''t know what, though - there was nothing in the room that could''ve done that."


    "He was really dead then?"


    The boy gave her a scornful look. "''Course he was. Deader than dead. Whoever did it really hated him."


    "Do you know who did it?"


    "No. Not for us to guess and chatter. That''s for your lord, right?" And he gave her a very odd look, and refused to say anything more. Perhaps, she thought, he guessed she had been trying to get information out of him.


    Soon after that, the physicker emerged, smiling, and he and the boy made their way out. Miervaldis watched as Alyn locked the door carefully behind him, then poured himself another cup of tea.


    "Did the apprentice say anything?"


    "No, my lord, not really - I''m sorry. He said they had been called out early, and that whoever did it must have really hated the scribe."


    "Hmm." Miervaldis looked thoughtful.


    "Did - um, did the physicker say anything?" she asked tentatively. He didn''t seem to mind answering.


    "He had a wonderful level of knowledge, in particular of poisons, of all things. But no, not as such. He confirmed what Ythilda said."


    "He - was the scribe poisoned?"


    "Oh no, sorry. We got a bit side-tracked." He laughed, and drank his tea. "We should get moving; it''s nearly time to see Lord Cassian himself." Alyn jumped, and ran to the wash room to make sure her hair was neat. For some reason, it mattered.


    Lord Cassian''s rooms were familiar, of course, although they got lost twice on the way and ended up being guided by a surly servant who clearly thought his errand much more important than helping a strange lord. Miervaldis knocked twice at the left-hand door, the door to the personal suite of rooms, and it was opened immediately by a skinny maidservant. She stared at the floor and bobbed a curtsey.


    "We''re here to see Lord Cassian," Miervaldis told her, and she nodded and scurried away. They waited by the door.


    "Oh, come in already!" came a loud, irritable voice. The maidservant came scuttling back and bobbed frantically, motioning them inside while still staring fixedly at the floor. "It''s only the Emperor''s trained dog come to check up on my doings last night." His voice echoed across the hallway, and through the open door behind them Alyn saw several heads turning to watch them go in. She winced. Miervaldis'' back was rigid with what she thought was distaste. The room around them was rich, like the rest of Fifth Star Court, filled with plump sofas and chairs where a lazy lord might lie to watch the world go by through his windows - although at the moment the windows were hidden by velvet curtains. A tray lay on a small table, with crumbs on the plates. Had it been a late breakfast?


    The maid led them on to a second room, much like the first but a bit smaller. Lord Cassian sat on a comfortable chair by a table, with a bottle and a glass by his hand. He was a tall, thin man with a deeply lined face and dark eyes, wearing clothes almost too rich for him. They made him look pasty and unhealthy, although perhaps, she thought, that was just him. He looked down his not-inconsiderable nose at them.


    "Lord Merfaldis, right?" He went on without waiting for correction. "And you''re here from the Emperor to clear my name? Or to accuse me, is that it?" He laughed rustily, then gestured to the little maidservant by the door. "Get out, Milly, this is none of your business." The maid bobbed hastily and withdrew, shutting the door behind her. Miervaldis moved slightly to position himself in front of Alyn.


    "Lord Cassian," he said, and his voice was measured and quiet, in contrast to the bullying spite of the other man''s, "I''m Lord Miervaldis of the Fourth Star Court, and I have come here at the behest of the Sun Court, concerning the death of your scribe, Jaquan. I''d like to ask you some questions, if I may."


    "And if I say no?"


    "Then I will withdraw, of course," said Miervaldis. He left unsaid what that would mean for Cassian. There was a pause, then Cassian made a loud, grumpy noise.


    "Ask your questions, man, but be quick," he said, and took a long drink from the glass, then refilled it. He offered neither drink nor seat to Alyn''s lord.


    "What was the first you knew of the crime?"


    "I was told about it by one of the maids. Screaming fit to burst, she was." He sneered.


    "One of your maids, or one of the maids serving the Court?"


    "Does it matter? One of mine, I think."


    "And what time was this?"


    "Early morning. Too early. I was hardly awake, and a damn fool girl came yelling than Jaquan had been murdered. Set them all off, it did."


    "What did you do then?"


    "I told them all to shut up, of course. But it was too late. I went to see, and there he was, with his head stove in and blood all over my desk and papers. I saw him as that little physicker was examining him."


    "Did you know Jaquan well?"


    "No. Why would I? He did his work, that''s what matters. I don''t care about the rest of it, that''s his business."


    "And where were you the night he was murdered?"


    "That''s none of your business," Cassian began, then hesitated. "Well, if you must know, I was in town. Then I came back and went to bed."


    "What time did you return?"


    "Midnight. Maybe. I went straight to bed, I didn''t look next door. Slept until the screaming began."


    "And with whom were you in town?"


    "That''s for me to know," Cassian snapped. "None of your business. I was out, and I didn''t do it."


    Lord Miervaldis regarded the unpleasant lord for a time, then nodded. "Thank you for your answers," he said. "I may have some more questions later."


    "I may answer them," Cassian said, then he leered. "Send your pretty page to ask me, and I''ll definitely answer."


    Miervaldis turned, and Alyn saw on his face an expression of anger and revulsion. He pushed her towards the door and she went. Cassian''s laughter followed them out.


    Back in their own rooms, which they found without help but with some wandering, Miervaldis relaxed into a chair.


    "Goodness, what an unpleasant man! I''m sorry to have pushed you out so suddenly, Alyn. I was a bit worried what might happen if we didn''t get out of there."


    "You thought he might have done something?"


    "Not quite," but he didn''t elaborate. Instead, he asked her about the gossip she''d overheard.


    "Oh well, it wasn''t much, really. Just, Bensen, you know, the cook''s assistant, he reckoned it was something Lord Cassian might have done." It sounded pretty thin now she said it, but Miervaldis nodded, his expression thoughtful.


    "Good," he said. "Tell me if you hear any more. We''ll see the other scribes soon, and we should probably talk to the Court mage too. After that, well, we''ll see. And you''ll be at lessons." He grinned at her, and she pulled a grumpy face. Remembering Lord Cassian''s manners, she was abruptly very glad of her easygoing lord. It could, she knew, have been much, much worse.

 Chapter 3

    Alyn did go to the lesson that afternoon, but first there were four more interviews with the other scribes who worked for Lord Cassian and with the Court mage. The scribes were, to a man, thin, unprepossessing, and cowed. They hadn''t liked Jaquan, although it took some questioning to get each to admit it. They acted as though an admission of dislike was a confession to the murder, but Miervaldis was gentle and patient with them. Alyn, remembering Lord Cassian''s attitude and manners, couldn''t blame them for being nervous. The Court mage was an entirely different matter; a tall, burly man with an arrogant manner, he answered Miervaldis'' questions with a barely concealed look of condescending disdain. He seemed to be trying to make the questions, and by extension Miervaldis, sound stupid. Alyn disliked him intensely. He didn''t even have anything useful to say; Evan Hughes had asked him to check, but there was no trace of magery in the study.


    "Just a common brutal crime," the mage said loftily, as though it would be more important or more tragic if it had been carried out by magic. Miervaldis nodded, the same bland expression on his face that had been there since the start of the interview, not showing anything he might be feeling.


    When the mage had finally gone, Miervaldis came back into the room and sat down. He glanced at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece.


    "We''ve got an hour before your afternoon lessons start," he said. "I think lunch is in order," and he rang the bell. Another maid appeared, took his request, bobbed and disappeared down the corridor. Lunch was brought up by Bensen, who was quite clearly curious about Alyn''s lord; he peered unabashedly through the door as she took the tray from him.


    "Have you found who it is yet?"


    "Of course not," Alyn scoffed. "We¡¯ve hardly started." His eyes were dancing with interest. She turned round, manoeuvering the tray with some difficulty, then looked back over her shoulder. "Thanks for bringing lunch." He didn''t take the hint, hanging around by the door and looking around the guest rooms which, she thought, he must have seen before. She put the tray down on the table, returned to the door and closed it gently, trying not to make it look like she was shutting him out.


    The tray bore cold meat, smoked salmon, fruit, bread, cheese and more olives, as well as a pale, clear wine. Miervaldis helped himself to the food, then nodded at Alyn to do so. They ate in silence, which he broke towards the end of the meal.


    "You''ve heard what I have, pretty much. What do you think?"


    "I think... I think there are too many possibilities to say right now. I mean, the door was locked, but all the housekeeping maids had a key. The scribes had keys. Lord Cassian could have done it, which means any of his family might have too..." she broke off, wondering where his family were. She hadn''t seen them in his chambers.


    "His family," said Miervaldis drily, "are not kept at Court. He has a wife and daughter in his country estate, but he prefers to spend most of his time here."


    "I bet his family prefer it too!" Alyn winced, and put a hand over her mouth. She hadn''t meant it to come out so rudely, but Miervaldis just chuckled quietly.


    "Right," he said. "There are plenty of potential murderers as it stands." Alyn wished he hadn''t said it like that. "So," he went on, "what about a motive?"


    There was a pause. Alyn considered the question, but she already knew she had no idea. Why kill a scribe? What could he do? Miervaldis had put his plate down and stood up; now he moved to the window and gazed out thoughtfully.


    "What was he doing when he was killed?"


    "He was writing," said Alyn, who was beginning to realise that her lord''s habit of talking to her was another form of talking to himself, of working through possibilities in his mind.


    "We know that, because he had ink blotches on his hands and the other scribes said he kept his hands clean when not working. Yes. But there was no pen. Nor was there any sign of a document he was actually working on. Only some blank papers." Alyn hadn''t noticed that at the time. Miervaldis frowned to himself. "Of course, it could have been hidden in the mess. We haven''t had a look through those papers. Perhaps that would be a good idea. Alyn!"


    "Yes, my lord?"


    "Your next job is to go through the papers Jaquan was working on, all the ones on his desk. I want to know what they are, what he might have been copying."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said, not especially thrilled at the prospect. He smiled at her.


    "You can start after your lessons," he said. "You''ve got twenty minutes before they start, so hopefully you can get there in time." Alyn stared at him in horror; suddenly, the idea of reading through Jaquan''s pile of legal documents seemed much more attractive. "In the Upper Chamber by the Garden of Seven Streams," he prompted her, with a grin.


    Grumpily, Alyn picked up her writing things and left the room to venture out through the winding ways of the Fifth Star Court. Not having a food scent to guide her, she succeeded in getting herself hopelessly lost in short order. Eventually, she stopped in a wide hall and looked around, hoping for a garden of some kind, but instead, she saw Ythilda, the maid who had found the body.


    "Um, hello," she said, and Ythilda looked round with a smile.


    "Can I help you?" she said. "Oh, it''s you, isn''t it, the page of the lord from Fourth Star Court?"


    "Yes, that''s right. I''m looking for, uh, the Garden of Seven Streams?" Ythilda looked sympathetic.


    "This must be a maze for you right now," she said. "You need to go back the way you came, as far as the long hall with the golden curtains - you remember that? Good, then turn left and follow the corridor round. It opens onto the Garden of Seven Streams; the Upper Chamber will be across the garden from you."


    "Thank you!" Alyn said gratefully, and hurried off. As she turned from the hall into the corridor Ythilda had mentioned, she heard the clock chiming and started to run. She didn''t want to be late; it was bad enough being new. But time and the size of Fifth Star Court were against her, and it was a full five minutes after the bells had finished chiming by the time she climbed the stairs and reached the door to the Upper Chamber. She paused to catch her breath. The door was open, revealing a large room with several somewhat faded embroidered silk hangings decorating the walls. A thin, ascetic-looking man stood at the front, holding forth in a reedy voice about the principles of the law. A large group of boys - no girls, she realised - sat on the floor on cushions; a couple towards the back of the room were clearly lounging. Some of those near the door noticed her standing there, and a murmur ran round the room. The teaching lord stopped.


    "Have we a visitor?" His tone wasn''t very pleasant. Alyn gulped, and stepped inside, dropping into the obeisance prescribed for the page of a lord visiting another court to a lord of that court.


    "Well well," the lord said. "Someone who knows her manners, what a pleasant surprise." His voice implied otherwise. "So, where did you spring from?"


    "My lord, I''m serving Lord Miervaldis of the Fourth Star Court, who is visiting this Court."


    "Oh, of course. Well, I suppose he had to get rid of you so he can play the sneak. Is he here to accuse or clear Lord Cassian?" Alyn couldn''t work out which was the desired outcome, and in any case the question was too loaded to answer. She kept her head bent, and said nothing.


    "Oh, get up. Find a bit of floor, and next time don''t be late." He sounded irritable and angry, and Alyn wished briefly for someone like oblivious Lord Fitzhugh of the Fourth Star Court. He had barely even realised when a page came in late, and boring was far preferable to antagonistic.


    "Yes, my lord," she said, and went to sit down near the door, putting her quills and papers in front of her. The teacher - whose name she still did not know - glanced at her once, then continued the interrupted lesson as though she had never come in.


    "You may, of course, be advised on these matters but it is always worth being aware of previous cases in your Court..."


    The lesson lasted two hours without a break, and all Alyn gained was a sore behind from sitting on the floor without a cushion. Teaching pages was always a bit erratic; pages were the next generation of lords and nobles, and knowledge that would be useful for, say, a physicker or an architect, was not considered appropriate for young nobles in case they became interested. Paid work, for a noble, was impious and improper. Nobles were supposed to serve the Sun Court and the people of their lands; that was why they came to their respective Star Courts, as representatives for their people. In days past, pages learned the ways of the Courts from their patrons while serving, in a kind of apprenticeship. Being told what happened was very different to actually doing it and watching it be done, and Alyn found the repetitive, dry recitations difficult to take in. As she gathered her pages of scratched notes, she wondered how Miervaldis had spent the afternoon, and wished she could have spent it with him. Even if he was just napping, she thought, it would be more interesting than this!


    She followed the other pages out of the door and down the stairs, through the corridor and back to the big hall with the golden curtains. From there, she didn''t know the way, and she lingered, confused. She wasn''t even sure where Ythilda had been when she had given the directions earlier.


    "Psst!"


    She jumped, looking round. One of the pages from the lesson, a smaller, roundish boy with limp brown hair, was waving at her from another doorway. Alyn went over, hoping for directions or even, if she was lucky, a chance to gossip. The boy stood aside to allow her through the door, so she went in to a small room with panelled wooden walls and not much by way of furniture. Several of the other pages lurked around the room, looking variously grumpy, amused and unfriendly. Surprised, she turned round, to see the small round page close the door and stand in front of it. Alyn felt her heart thump, realising too late that she had fallen for their trick, and whatever they wanted to do, she couldn''t stop them.


    The largest of the pages stopped slouching by the far wall and walked over to her.


    "You''re Miervaldis'' page." It wasn''t a question.


    "Lord Miervaldis," Alyn said, unable to stop herself correcting him. He scowled, and then he hit her casually, across the mouth. Alyn spun, not ready for the violence although she realised she should have been. She fell to her knees, and had the absurd presence of mind to push her papers and quills to one side before they started in on her. But there was no more violence - at least, not for the minute. The tall page boy crouched down and pulled her head up by the hair.


    "He''s here to spy on Lord Cassian. That means you''re here to spy on us. We don''t want him here. We don''t want you here. This is none of your business," and he spat, quite deliberately, at her face. Alyn made a strangled noise of outrage, then, ignoring his grasp on her hair, she surged towards him and headbutted him on the chin. He fell backwards to sprawl on the floor and hold his chin; she had heard his teeth click and thought he might have bitten his tongue. Her own head hurt sharply where it had hit his chin, more than she had thought it would, and she had left several tangles of hair in his hand. She staggered to her feet as the other pages converged on her, and managed to land several kicks and punches as they came in, throwing attacks wildly around in an attempt to keep the pages at bay. She had the advantage that whatever she hit was a target, where they had to be careful not to hit each other, and did not always succeed. But there were still too many of them, and eventually she subsided, sat upon by two of them, bruised and battered but feeling a glow of vindication upon realising how many of them would also be bruised the next day. The tall boy came over, looking thunderous.


    "You keep out of this, you hear?" As warnings went, it wasn''t very scary, Alyn thought, but she hurt too much to argue, so she just nodded. He glared at her for a moment more, then signalled to the others and they got off her. She writhed on the floor for a moment, catching her breath. The pages left her there, and she didn''t see them go.


    After a few moments, she sat up, wincing at the pain in her side. It had been, she reckoned, an amateur punch-up. Not that she had much experience, but she had tussled with her older brother for years, and although there had been seven of them, these pages were all her age. They didn''t know, she thought, feeling superior, how to land a punch properly. Although that didn''t mean it didn''t hurt. She eased herself to her feet, picked up her papers - a bit battered now - and limped out of the door, hoping it wouldn''t take too long to find her way back to her lord.


    In the end, she found her way to the kitchen instead, and ran across Bensen again. He took one look at her, and scowled.


    "The other pages, was it?"


    "I fell down the stairs," Alyn said, straight-faced. She knew the rules. Bensen gave her a long, unconvinced look, and shrugged.


    "If you want it that way," he said. "Did you come for ice, or food, or are you lost?"


    "I - actually, ice would be good, please," she admitted. "But I''m a bit lost too..." He gave her a quick grin, and went to fetch ice for her, then led her back to her rooms. By the time they reached the guest suite, she was staggering. He knocked on the door, and Miervaldis opened it with a smile, which vanished when he saw her state.


    "What happened?" There was an undercurrent of anger in his voice. Bensen helped Alyn into the room and made her sit down in the nearest chair. She held the ice pack to her cheek, where she thought the worst swelling was.


    "She says she fell down the stairs, my lord," Bensen said in reply. He put her papers and quills down on the table. She hadn''t remembered him taking them from her.


    "Did she now. Well, thank you for the ice pack, and for bringing her back. You are Bensen?"


    "That''s right." He sounded impressed, Alyn thought fuzzily. So he should.


    "I''ll look after her. Will you please ask Evan Hughes to step up here when he can?"


    "Yes, my lord," said Bensen, sounding a little disappointed at the dismissal, and she heard his footsteps as he went out. Miervaldis followed, and she heard the door lock. He came back to kneel by her chair.


    "I take it the lessons went badly?"


    "They weren''t very interesting, my lord."


    "This happened later, then? Don''t bother with the stairs, Alyn, I was a page once too. I know what that means. How many were there?"


    "Seven," said Alyn, giving up the pretence. He raised an eyebrow.


    "That''s quite impressive. Well, my apologies for being the cause of this." There was a knock at the door, and he stood up to answer it. The physicker came in and knelt down by Alyn; there was a murmured conversation while he examined her bruises.


    "You''ll mend," Evan Hughes said, when he had finished. He sounded quite cheerful. "I''ve seen worse from, ah, falling down stairs. Don''t drink any wine tonight, and don''t eat too much, all right?"


    "Yes sir," Alyn whispered. She felt shaky now, much worse than just after the fight. The physicker turned his attention to her lord.


    "Keep an eye on her, and if she gets sick, call me again. Don''t let her drink wine until tomorrow evening. There''s some ointment here for the bruising, let her put it on after bathing."


    "Thank you," said Miervaldis. "What''s in the ointment?"


    There was a pause. Alyn glanced up, to see the physicker giving her lord a very odd look.


    "Arnica," he said eventually, "and witch hazel. It will help relieve the inflammation and bring the swelling down."


    "Thank you," said Miervaldis again, and didn''t ask any more question. Evan Hughes left, and she heard the door lock, then Miervaldis came back to her chair.


    "You should lie down," he said, and it wasn''t a suggestion. Alyn tried to stand up but her legs weren''t working properly; she clung on to him and he half-guided, half-carried her to her bed, where she either fell asleep or passed out. She was never sure which it was.


    She woke up late that evening, feeling much better and very hungry. She was still fully clothed. She sat up, and the bruises made their presence felt; she hissed at the pain.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Are you awake, Alyn?" He must have sharp ears.


    "Yes, my lord." She stood up gingerly and came to the front room. He was writing something by the fire. He looked over, assessing her stance.


    "You''re still hurting? I''ll get some hot water and food brought up. You can bathe, and Evan gave me some ointment for your bruises." He sounded quite concerned.


    "I''m all right, my lord," she said, not wanting him to be so upset for her sake. But he pulled the bell anyway, and when the maid came, he requested the food and the hot water. Alyn bathed as instructed and put the ointment on; it stung a little, but that soon faded. By then she was hungry, and the food was there, so she ate, and after that, she realised the whole afternoon had gone while she had been sleeping.


    "Has anything else happened, my lord?" Miervaldis looked up from his own dinner.


    "You mean, with respect to the investigation? No, nothing. I''ve been thinking, that''s all." He put his plate down and stood up, went to pace by the window. It was open, allowing a cool draught in, which brought with it a faint scent of unfamiliar blossom. "Will you be up to having a look through those papers tomorrow?"


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said obediently. "But -" she hesitated.


    "What is it?"


    "I think maybe... I should go back to the lessons."


    "Even now?"


    "It wasn''t all of them, my lord."


    "What, all of the stairs?" He sounded dry.


    "I just, well, I don''t want to run away. And mightn''t those pages have been... involved?"


    He came back from the window to sit by the fire, but didn''t pick up his food.


    "It''s possible," he said. "I did think of that, but there were a lot of them - I find it hard to believe that seven lords are involved. I think it''s more likely just resentment of an outsider interfering in this court''s affairs, I''m afraid."


    "Doesn''t Lord Cassian have a page?"


    "No. I did check that. Given his, ah, temperament, I''m not that surprised. But there may be a link. It could be useful, but I won''t have you falling down any more stairs."


    "I won''t, my lord," she said, wondering what she''d let herself in for. But she didn''t want to run away, and she did want to see the look on the big page''s face when she came back the next morning. Miervaldis nodded.


    "Be careful then," he said.


    Alyn made sure to be up early the next morning, and she spent the hours she had free between breakfast and the start of lessons exploring the enormous court. There were too many tiny side corridors for her to know it properly, but by ten o''clock, the appointed hour, she was in the Upper Chamber, seated neatly on the plumpest cushion in the place and wearing the blandest expression she could muster. The first page through the door actually did a double-take when he saw her and was shoved through the door by the page behind. She deliberately did not acknowledge them.


    Lord Ronoy was two minutes late to the lesson; she thought it might be deliberate. He sneered at her, but gave her no other specific attention, much to her relief. The lesson this time was on inheritance; a subject almost entirely separate from the lesson of the day before; she wondered if he just talked about whatever was on his mind, or whether there was a plan of some kind. She found it hard to concentrate for the whole two hours; his reedy, thin voice was like a mosquito''s whine, capturing attention with its sound rather than its content. It didn''t help that he sounded bored too.


    At the end of the lesson she left in the middle of the crowd of pages, hoping that they were not all in on it, and departed the crowd when they passed near the kitchen. Bensen found her there, crouching behind an abandoned water butt in a side corridor.


    "What on earth are you doing?"


    "Avoiding stairs," she grinned at him. He was carrying a tray of unbaked buns balanced on one hand. There was flour all over his apron and in his hair.


    "Are you feeling better? No ice today?" And he winked at her.


    "Yes, thanks," she said, thinking how nice it was that someone was glad to see her. He bent towards her; she eyed the tray with trepidation, but he had it under control.


    "There''s someone I think you should talk to, if you know what I mean."


    "Who?" Her heart beat faster. Surely, he had to mean something connected to Jaquan''s murder...


    He started to reply, but someone shouted something down the corridor.


    "Sorry," he said instead, looking rueful. "I''ve got to go. Some other time, all right?"


    "Yes!" Alyn said, standing up from her hidey hole. He hurried off down the corridor, the tray still perfectly balanced. What does he know?


    She started back to the rooms after that, thinking that she''d probably waited long enough, and didn''t run into anyone on the way. Miervaldis had ordered in lunch, but hadn''t eaten much of it. He was staring moodily at the tray and sipping the pale wine they sent up with everything. As she was eating, something Lord Ronoy had said in the lesson came back to her.


    "My lord?"


    He blinked and sat up, looking a bit dazed, as though she''d woken him up.


    "Yes, what is it?"


    "In Fifth Star Court, they don''t allow women to inherit, do they?" The rules often differed from Court to Court, reflecting the long-ago time when they were nine separate countries.


    "I believe that''s the case, yes."


    "Then who is Lord Cassian''s heir? If he only has a daughter?" Miervaldis focussed properly on her for the first time since she''d come in.


    "That''s a very good point. I had forgotten about that... inheritance is pleasantly lax at home." He wore a funny expression, almost a smile, as though he was thinking of something else.


    "I had better go, my lord," she said, after the silence had lapsed for a minute. "I''ve got lessons again in ten minutes."


    "Be careful on the stairs."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said obediently, and rolled her eyes when she had turned away. If he was going to harp on about that for the rest of their time here, it was going to get annoying.


    "I need you fit to look through papers, after all."


    She had forgotten about that. Disgruntled, she went to the lesson, unsure whether she wanted to spend the afternoon sitting with a bunch of boys who hated her listening to a boring lord who resented her, or sitting with a pile of boring papers next to a corpse, who presumably at least held no opinion of her at all.


    In the end, of course, she found that Jaquan had been moved. She came across the Chamberlain while on her way back to her room, waited until he had finished his quiet conversation with a minor noble, and asked him for the key to the study, which was being kept locked in the present circumstances. She thought he looked uneasy about granting her access, but he didn''t say anything, just gave her the key. When she reached the suite she hesitated, remembering the unpleasant comments made by Lord Cassian, but then realised that once she was inside, she could lock the door and be safe.


    The desk was as she had seen it before, just with no body, which was a huge relief. The room was well lit by the tall windows, uncleaned for several days, and dust motes danced in the evening sunlight. It was very quiet, the quiet of a working room, of books and studying, although it was of course deserted. She wondered briefly where Lord Cassian''s remaining scribes were working now. The other desks were clear of their stacks of papers, so the scribes must have gone somewhere. The door through to his rooms was locked, she knew, but she tested it, just in case.


    Around the further desk, the papers still lay across the floor, some in crumpled piles and some still pristine. The desk, also paper-covered, still bore dark stains where Jaquan''s blood had not been cleaned. Alyn walked over, a little gingerly, and started gathering up the papers. She had her quill and pages from the lesson, so once she had made a big pile, she sat down - on the carpet, away from the stool Jaquan had been sitting on when he was killed - and began to write down what there was.


    The pile was bigger than she had thought it would be, and some of the papers required so much description to identify them that it was dark before she was halfway through the pile. She stood up to stretch, and noticed with a shock that the view through the windows was of a garden at twilight, all subtle blue shades and dark clouds, with a star twinkling where the sky was clear. She looked at the pile, where most of the papers were still waiting for her to catalogue them, and wondered about taking them to the suite for cataloguing. But the pile was very big, and somehow it felt a bit wrong to carry important legal documents away from the scene of a murder without even asking someone. They''d be safe here, anyway. She gathered up her writing things and let herself out into the brightly-lit hallway, locking the door carefully behind her. She only relaxed when there were two corridors and one flight of stairs between her and Lord Cassian''s suite.


    When she got back to their suite, it was locked as usual, but nobody answered the door. Annoyed, she bent to peer through the keyhole; it was dark inside, much like Lord Cassian''s study had been. Where was Lord Miervaldis? She straightened up and stared around, and from the other end of the corridor, the maid Ythilda came hurrying up.


    "I''m sorry," she said hastily. "Milord went out and asked me to keep an eye out for you, but I was attending to Milady..."


    "Oh - do you have the key, then?" Miervaldis had gone out? Without her?


    "I do," and she produced it from some hidden pocket as if by magic.


    "Thank you," said Alyn, and stood while Ythilda hurried away, feeling a bit shocked.


    Inside, she lit the lamp and stared round the room. The folded piece of paper on the table caught her eye, as of course it was supposed to. She opened it. In neat, tight characters like those of a professional scribe or scholar, it said:


    Alyn,


    I apologise for leaving you so abruptly, but the chamberlain told me you were working on Jaquan''s papers. I am going to do some further investigation, and will be back too late to dine. If you ask the kitchen staff, they will give you dinner. Please don''t wait up for me. I will see you in the morning.


    I.M.


    She put the letter down, feeling rather abandoned. Whatever he was doing, she wanted to be in on it. But what was he doing? With a sudden shiver, she remembered the words of the dark man who had come to Miervaldis'' rooms in Fourth Star Court when she had been packing his clothes. When you go with your patron, please be alert to what he may do. A report will be required in the event of anything.. untoward. Was this untoward? She didn''t know. She hadn''t thought about that incident since leaving Fourth Star Court, and to remember it now made her feel uneasy.


    In any case, it was time and past time for food, so she put her worries and the letter aside and went out to find the kitchen, hoping there would be some food left. In the corridors there were plenty of servants rushing to and fro, carrying trays both laden and empty, which gave her hope. When she reached the kitchen it was in absolute chaos, far worse than the one in Fourth Star Court even when there was a big banquet on. Fifth Star Court was that much bigger, but it still seemed a bit excessive. She was hovering outside the side door, wondering if there would be a chance to ask for dinner, when Bensen emerged from the chaos with a large bag in his arms.


    "Hey! Why aren''t you with your lord?"


    "He''s busy and he didn''t need me," Alyn replied, terse because she didn''t like it herself.


    "He''s in town alone?"


    "What?"


    "I saw him," and Bensen put the bag down and leaned against the wall, as though settling in for a long talk.


    "Aren''t you, um, busy?" Alyn interrupted, not wanting to get him into trouble.


    "No, not really. It''s always like this but it''s just his style. The head cook, I mean," he grinned. "They won''t miss me for a bit. I saw your lord, see, on his way to town. I thought it was a bit odd, ''cause he had no escort, but I thought you might be with him and I just missed seeing you. But you''re not."


    Alyn didn''t want to admit she hadn''t known Miervaldis was heading into the town. She had assumed he was somewhere in the Court, and he hadn''t said anything. It made her feel more grumpy, and, at the back of her mind, a little voice was asking her if this counted as ''untoward''. But Bensen was looking at her expectantly. She racked her brains for something to say.


    "Oh, didn''t you have something to tell me?" she managed after too long a pause. He raised one eyebrow at the change of subject, then nodded and grinned.


    "It''s about the murder, see. Look, I can''t be too long. Did you come down for dinner?"


    "Yes."


    "I''ll bring it to you, then I can talk to you. They won''t mind me bringing food. I''ll see you in a bit, all right?"


    "Yes... thank you." She watched him toss the bag casually to one side where it slumped against a pile of similar bags and dive back into the smoky chaos, and stood for a moment thinking about Miervaldis'' trip to the little township associated with Fifth Star Court. Lord Cassian had been in town the night Jaquan was murdered. Was that what her lord was investigating? That would make perfect sense; feeling relieved, if still miffed at being left out, she hurried back to their suite to wait for Bensen.


    "A bit" turned out to be nearly an hour, but when Bensen arrived, by way of apology for the long wait he had brought not just the stew and bread the Court had eaten, but a soft sweet dumpling and a bowl of raisins as well. He had given her a generous helping of the stew; Alyn fell on it, only then realising how hungry she was. He didn''t wait for her to finish, but started talking almost immediately.


    "Sorry to take so long, but they needed help with one of the ovens. Are you ready to listen?" She nodded, mouth full of stew. "Right. So Lord Cassian''s heir is Lord Isidor, the son of Lord Vitalis." At Alyn''s blank look, he hurried to explain. "That''s Lord Cassian''s younger brother, who died five years ago of the flux. Anyway, Lord Isidor''s in with the Niethian crowd, if you know what I mean?" Alyn didn''t, but didn''t say so, partly because her mouth was full again. "I don''t know much about it, although Fifth Star Court''s always been loyal, of course! But he needed money, and I heard him shouting at Lord Cassian just five days ago." He paused, looking important.


    "What was he shouting about?" Alyn prompted him, between mouthfuls.


    "He said he needed money, and Lord Cassian said he wouldn''t give him any. Isn''t that a motive?"


    "I suppose so," Alyn said dubiously. "Why did he need the money?"


    "I told you, I don''t know."


    "Oh yes, sorry. Um, but if he needed the money and Lord Cassian had it, why wouldn''t he just kill him instead?"


    "I thought about that," Bensen sounded excited. "See, it''s a terrible crime to kill a lord and it''d be really obvious if he did that anyway. But if he murdered the scribe and tried to make it look like Lord Cassian did it - well, Lord Cassian''d be disgraced, wouldn''t he? And Lord Isidor would inherit right away!"


    Alyn thought it was a bit far-fetched, but didn''t want to say that, so she tried to look thoughtful and impressed while she finished the sweet dumpling. Bensen reached for the raisins he had brought her, and she shoved the bowl away with one arm.


    "You brought them for me," she said indignantly.


    "Oh come on, I just gave you a really good lead!"


    "You can get raisins any time!" But he looked mournfully at her and she relented. When he had gone, she finished the raisins he had left her and turned the idea over in her head. Could Isidor have framed Cassian in order to get the money? It hadn''t been very good framing, but then, maybe he wasn''t very intelligent. And as Cassian''s heir, he would have the keys to the room. Probably. Maybe it was worth looking into. She made notes on what Bensen had said, trying and failing to be as neat as Miervaldis had been. He had large hands, too, she thought resentfully. It wasn''t fair.


    There was nothing else to do that night, and she certainly didn''t want to go back to the dark room where Jaquan had been killed to go through the papers again. Instead, she wandered round their suite looking for a bookshelf, and found one in the study. It had a scattering of popular romances on it, most of which she''d read, but she picked up one that she remembered liking and took it back to the main room to read by the fire. She was curled up, lost in the adventures of a bold but poor warrior and his lady love, when she was yanked abruptly from the story by the clicking of the lock. Her heart pounded, but of course it was Miervaldis, looking a bit the worse for wear. She stood up hastily; he looked surprised to see her.


    "Alyn," he said, and his voice was hoarse. "I didn''t expect you to wait up..."


    "I was reading, my lord," she waved the book, as proof.


    "Ah, they provided books. How thoughtful." He locked the door behind him and limped wearily to the main room.


    "My lord - are you hurt?" He waved the suggestion away.


    "No, no, just tired. It''s quite a way to the town, you know."


    "You didn''t take a coach?" Bensen had not said anything about a coach, but she had just assumed...


    "No, that wouldn''t have fitted in."


    "Fitted in with what? My lord," she added hastily, realising she was interrogating him as though he was her ward, not her patron.


    "I wanted to ask questions, and people don''t speak to nobles and rich men with carriages. How were the papers?" He slung his coat onto one of the overstuffed chairs and sank into another.


    "Oh... boring. They were mostly details of servants'' contracts, and amendments to them. They have a really weird filing system. I haven''t finished, I''m afraid."


    "That''s all right, there were a lot of them. And your lessons?"


    "Fine. My lord, Bensen told me something interesting."


    "Did he?" Miervaldis looked up, alert despite the obvious tiredness.


    "Yes. He says Lord Isidor, Lord Cassian''s heir, was in need of money."


    "Lord Cassian''s heir, hmmm?"


    "Yes, his nephew, I think. The son of his younger brother, who''s dead."


    "I see, I see. Well done." He stared into the fire, thoughtful. "Anything else?"


    "Yes; Bensen said he heard them having a row just before the murder."


    "Just before?"


    Alyn hurried to the notes she''d made and scanned them.


    "Five days before, he said. Lord Isidor wanted money, and Lord Cassian refused him."


    "I see."


    "Bensen said he thought it might have been a plan to frame Lord Cassian, and to get him disgraced so Lord Isidor would inherit."


    Miervaldis looked up, slightly surprised.


    "Wouldn''t it be easier just to kill Lord Cassian?" Although she''d thought the same thing, Alyn shivered.


    "I did ask him that, but he said it was terrible to kill a lord and this was a safer way."


    "Hmmm. Speaking to this Lord Isidor would be good, I think. Well done, Alyn, that''s more than I managed."


    "There was one other thing, my lord."


    "Go on."


    "Bensen said Lord Isidor was in with the Niethian crowd. I don''t know what that means, but..." she tailed off. Miervaldis had tensed at the name. At her silence, he relaxed, but it looked like an effort to do so.


    "The Niethians are... a faction in the Sun Court," he said carefully. "They are... not always in accordance with the decrees of the Emperor."


    Alyn felt shocked. Surely the Emperor''s word was law? Miervaldis shook his head tiredly at her expression.


    "There''ll always be people who disagree, Alyn, even with the will of the gods on earth. The Niethians sometimes try to garner support for their ideas, but don''t usually get far. Lord Isidor sounds like their kind of recruit; a young, headstrong lord who doesn''t yet have the power he thinks he ought to." He broke off, shaking his head. "I''m prejudging him, and that''s bad. Look, it''s past time for bed, we''ve got lots to do tomorrow. Well, you have. I think I may indulge myself and lie in." He smiled and stood up, clearly tired, and Alyn wondered if he''d done more than simply walk to and from town. Surely it wasn''t that far? But she said nothing and did as he suggested, although she lay awake a long time in the dark, with too many questions passing through her head and no answers in sight.

 Chapter 4

    Miervaldis didn''t get his lie-in. Alyn didn''t hear the quiet knock, or the key in the door, but she woke up when the maid put the breakfast tray on the table with a slight clatter. She lay still, waiting to hear the door closing again, but it never came. Instead, after just long enough for her to almost drop off again, she heard Miervaldis'' door open.


    "What is it?" His voice was still slightly hoarse and tired.


    "Milord..." Alyn didn''t recognise the maid''s voice. "Milord, I have something... something I need to tell you. About milord Cassian, I mean..."


    Silence, and then a soft thump, as though Miervaldis had sat down. Alyn rubbed her eyes and got carefully out of bed, trying her best to be quiet.


    "Go on," said her lord. There was a long pause, during which Alyn crept to the keyhole and put her eye to it. The maid was standing with her back to the main door, which meant Alyn could see her profile, although she didn''t recognise the girl. She had long brown hair tied neatly back, and she was shifting slightly from foot to foot. Miervaldis was indeed sitting down, looking faintly ridiculous in a long velvet dressing gown she knew belonged to Fifth Star Court.


    "It was the night before the, the murder, milord," the girl said, voice subdued. "I was on cleaning duty along that corridor, see, and I''d just finished."


    "What time would this be?"


    "Oh, late, milord. It always takes a long time at the end of the day."


    "After midnight?"


    "About then, milord. I''m not sure exactly."


    "I see. So what happened?"


    "I was passing along the corridor, milord, and I saw milord Cassian. He was going into his study, milord, and he looked angry."


    "Into his study? I see. What was he wearing?" Alyn distinctly saw the maid''s hands twitch at the question, then ball into fists.


    "I don''t know, milord, something rich. It was dark, see."


    "I do see." He looked thoughtful. Alyn held her breath. The maid fidgeted.


    "What''s your name?" he asked abruptly.


    "Brenna, my lord."


    "Thank you, Brenna, for the information. I will bear it in mind."


    "But -" she sounded agitated, Alyn thought, wishing she could see her face.


    "What?" Miervaldis'' tone carried only mild curiosity.


    "No - nothing, my lord."


    "Thank you, then," he said. "And for the breakfast. You may go."


    Brenna turned, and Alyn saw her face clearly. She was scowling, looking both angry and worried. She left the room; Miervaldis waited until she had closed the door behind her, then walked over himself and locked it. Then he came over to the bedroom doors, looming large in her keyhole vision.


    "If you weren''t listening, Alyn, I shall be very disappointed in you." She opened the door, unable to resist grinning.


    "I heard it all, my lord. Doesn''t that mean Lord Cassian was lying?"


    "It does, if what she said is true." Miervaldis went to the tray and poured tea for himself, and then a mug for her. Alyn added sugar and stirred it.


    "Why wouldn''t it be?" she asked. He shrugged.


    "No reason to doubt her story," he said. "Not at the moment, anyway. Lord Cassian did say he came back around midnight, so that holds up at any rate." He fell silent, looking thoughtful. Alyn helped herself to the warm bread and the bowl of raisins which she suspected was Bensen''s doing. Thinking of him reminded her of their other lead.


    "My lord, are we going to interview Lord Isidor?"


    "Yes, I''ll see about arranging that. And you need to carry on with the papers, if you can bear it."


    "Yes, my lord," she said cheerfully, grabbing some more raisins.


    The lesson was surprisingly bearable that morning, mainly because Lord Ronoy was replaced by the much friendlier Lord Anstable. He bumbled on cheerfully about ancient battles and strategies for two hours without a break, but managed to make it interesting through the sheer number of anecdotes he related. Alyn actually laughed out loud after the best one, in which a foolish commander had, entirely by accident, thwarted the long-planned strategy of the general of the enemy army. She covered her mouth in horror, but Lord Anstable, who was very short-sighted, beamed in her general direction, and the page sitting next to her, a short, skinny boy who cowered rather than sat on his cushion, also smiled a bit at her. After a moment, she grinned back.


    After that lesson, she deliberately timed her leaving so as to be just behind the skinny page boy. She watched him go, and noticed he also lingered away from the shoving group of bully boys who had been responsible for her beating. Enthused, she reached out to tug on his sleeve. He spun round in panic.


    "Hi," she said, smiling, but he shook his head, still afraid. Puzzled, she dropped her hand. "What''s wrong?"


    "I... I don''t want to talk to you."


    "Why?" She felt more confused than affronted. "Is it that lot over there?"


    "No...." He knew what she meant, although the swaggering, laughing bunch had long gone.


    "Well, if not that, then what?"


    "Look, I..." he hesitated, then scowled. "I just don''t want to." It rang so false that she laughed out loud, and he looked miffed at her mockery.


    "Don''t be daft," she said familiarly, hoping to encourage him out of whatever mood he was entertaining. "Who''s your lord? What''s your name?"


    He straightened a bit.


    "I''m Pyrrhus Berinhard of Eighth Star Court," he said, his voice thin in the big corridor, but much stronger than it had been. "I''m serving Lord Lysandros of the Fifth Star Court."


    "I''m Alyn Vanyasdotter of Third Star Court," she replied in kind. "I''m serving Lord Miervaldis of the Fourth Star Court. Now, what''s wrong?"


    He dropped his eyes, then shook his head.


    "Nothing," he said quietly. "I''m sorry..."


    Alyn mentally shrugged, assuming that he had decided to ignore whatever threat the bullies offered.


    "Nice to meet you, Pyrrhus of Eighth Star Court," she said cheerfully. "Are you going for lunch now?"


    "Yes..."


    "I''ll come with you." He looked like he might be about to object, but she grinned at him until he swallowed his words and nodded. They headed for the kitchen together, although he didn''t say anything the entire way.


    The refectory was next to the kitchen, and was where the main three meals were served for those who didn''t merit a tray in their rooms. Alyn hoped Lord Miervaldis wouldn''t mind her absence, but she wasn''t about to abandon a peer she''d just convinced to talk to her. She tailed Pyrrhus to the counter and back, sitting opposite him and acting as friendly and innocent as possible. Despite that, it still took the whole main course and most of dessert before he responded to one of her questions.


    "Yes," he said, "I joined just last autumn."


    "Same as me," Alyn said cheerfully, mixing her apple pie up into a mash. He looked surprised at what she was doing. "I''m sorry," she apologised. "I like it this way."


    "Oh no, it''s just that''s exactly what my brother does," he said, all in a rush, then looked upset.


    "You have a brother?"


    "Yes..."


    "Younger than you?"


    "No, older."


    "What''s his name?" The question had been friendly, just following something Pyrrhus seemed happy to talk about, but now he hesitated and looked aside. Alyn felt frustrated, unable to understand what the stumbling blocks were. Eventually:


    "Kadir," he said, and stared at his own pie.


    "Just the one brother? I''ve got loads," Alyn burbled, trying to fill up the pause and keep the conversation going. She felt exhausted from the effort already. "And a sister, Illiana. My brothers are Byran, Davian, Simman, Olivet and Mikal. Byran''s at the Eighth Star Court - have you met him?" But despite the innocence of the question, Pyrrhus paled, and went completely silent. Alyn carried the conversation for the rest of the awkward meal, trying desperately to make him feel at ease. At the end of the meal, when he left the hall in a different direction to the one she wanted to take, she let him go and wandered off, confused and a little hurt at his unfriendliness.


    After the second lesson, she returned to the study room and spent a couple of hours cataloguing the papers. By the end, although she still hadn''t finished, she had made a considerable dent in the large pile and felt satisfied with what she''d achieved. She made her way back to the rooms, hungry and wondering what Miervaldis had managed to do that day. Unsurprisingly, the room was empty again, but just as she turned to look for Ythilda, Miervaldis himself came up the corridor.


    "Oh, I''m sorry," he said. He was dressed normally, so presumably hadn''t been to town; she was surprised how relieved that made her feel. "I''ve been talking to people... mainly the chamberlain. We''ll have to wait for a day or two to see Lord Isidor, I''m afraid; he''s visiting his family. His own family, not Lord Cassian''s family, that is. He''s expected back the day after tomorrow." He bent to unlock the door. "I meant to be back earlier, but I was talking to the stablemaster." The stablemaster? Alyn thought. Why on earth would he spend a long time talking to the stablemaster? She followed him into the room, still wondering, but he didn''t say any more than that.


    After they had eaten, Miervaldis filled his cup again with the pale clear wine and went to stand by the window.


    "Tomorrow is a Holy day, of course," he said. "That means Jaquan''s funeral will be after the service." Alyn had rather lost track of the days, and had forgotten a Holy day was due. He turned to look at her. "We will be going."


    "Yes, my lord," she said obediently. He turned back to the window. "My lord, did you find out anything more about what Brenna said?"


    "No, not really. Ythilda confirmed that Brenna had been on the late shift that night. That''s all. What she said she saw seems quite plausible." He fell silent, staring out of the window. Alyn tidied the tray as best she could, and went to sit with her book by the fire, leaving him to his thoughts.


    The next morning they made their way to the elegant chapel that lurked off to one side of Fifth Star Court. As was customary on Holy days, there had been no breakfast, and Alyn''s stomach rumbled, unimpressed by its absence. Alyn sighed. Looking around at the other lords assembling outside the chapel, she felt distinctly underdressed, and her lord looked positively dowdy in his dusty black waistcoat, the smartest item that had been packed. If Anitia was to be believed, it was the best one he had, and it looked like it had played host to several generations of moths over the years.


    The ornate chapel doors opened at daybreak, and the crowd filed in, still silent. Before the altar burned the Emperor''s flame, lit from a torch which had been lit by his hand on the hour of his accession to the throne. Each lord made his way to the front with solemn tread, bowed ponderously to the flame, then made his way to his accustomed seat. As visitors to the Court, Miervaldis and Alyn came last; standing through the interminable queue of Fifth Star Court lords, she looked up and saw he was watching them keenly. She watched them herself, but saw nothing unusual. The outward show of piety and loyalty, at least, was flawless.


    The service was all but identical to the last two she had attended at Fourth Star Court, although she had been without her lord then, of course. At the front, the First Sage pontificated on the meaning of the Holy day (this time, the anniversary of the first Emperor''s birthday), and she let her mind drift, not paying attention to the words. The Sage did not speak for long, thankfully, but by the time he was done, her behind was numb from the cold stone seat. The congregation stood as they were bid, and dutifully chanted the obligatory paean, then joined in desultorily with the choir-led canticle. It was clear that most lords were expecting to leave by now; one elderly man actually started for the aisle, but the First Sage cleared his throat and the embarrassed page bolted from his chair to tug his lord back to his seat. The Sage bestowed a firm glare on the congregation and let the silence linger for a while before clearing his throat again and starting on the funeral service. Alyn wondered how many people were cursing Jaquan for having the indecency to die so close to a Holy day; had it been more than a week away, he''d have had a private funeral, and nobody would have had to turn up.


    After he had enjoyed himself silently rebuking the crowd, the First Sage gave the signal and the doors opened. Heads turned as three figures crept into the chapel; Jaquan''s family and friends would be permitted in at this stage, but from her seat near the back, Alyn could see clearly that only two of the three were Jaquan''s fellow scribes. She wondered where the other one was. The third figure was an austere-looking woman with a disapproving expression. She, at least, walked as though she had a right to be there, striding confidently to her seat. The scribes crept after her, ashamed. Theoretically, of course, the chapel should be open to everyone, but Court chapels were unofficially recognised as special cases. Alyn felt sorry for them and their obvious discomfort.


    The First Sage coughed again and drew all eyes to the front. For all the fuss he made over it, the funeral was very short. Four burly sages carried in the coffin, and the First Sage ran through the prescribed rites over it, touching the sacred ash to the centre, and consigning Jaquan''s spirit to the gods. The choir sang a dirge, one of the standard ones, and the congregation surreptitiously shuffled their feet. When the time came for the call for a witness, Alyn was pleasantly surprised that one of the scribes came forward. He spoke very quietly, nervous in the silence and overawed by the company, but the chapel was well-designed and its lofty arches carried his words to everyone there, brief though they were.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Jaquan worked hard, and served well. He was our colleague for ten years in the service of Lord Cassian. He will be missed."


    The only emotion in his voice, Alyn thought, had been anxiety. He did not sound particularly sad, and no-one else got up to speak. She realised she had not seen Lord Cassian at any point during the service.


    After the scribe''s witnessing, the First Sage waited an almost embarrassingly long time before resuming the service. There was another canticle, and then the blessing, and then, finally, the release. Alyn sighed with relief. By her side, Miervaldis glanced down with a slight smile, then, as the woman who had come in with the scribes got up to leave, he hastened to join her. Alyn scrambled after.


    "... if you don''t mind?" her lord was saying as she joined them. The woman sniffed, managing somehow to look down her nose at him, for all his height and status. Alyn thought with a pang of shame that she was better dressed than he was.


    "If you''re quick," she said, leaving out the correct address. Miervaldis didn''t seem to mind.


    "I just wanted to know what relationship you have to Jaquan," he said mildly. The woman looked affronted, Alyn thought, at his lack of reaction to her deliberate rudeness.


    "I''m his cousin," she said stiffly.


    "Did you know him well?"


    "Hardly at all."


    "Yet you came to his funeral."


    "It is the proper thing to do."


    "Indeed it is."


    "Some of us still pay attention to the correct ways." Her tone was icy.


    "I see that you do, madam." He bowed, far lower than necessary, and she flushed, taking it for mockery, then turned her back and swept away. Alyn watched her go, then looked back at her lord. He grinned ruefully at her.


    "I don''t think our scribe had many friends," he said. "Come on, or we''ll miss breakfast."


    Breakfast was served in the refectory, which surprised her. She had expected such an illustrious crowd to be served in the banqueting hall, but the sheer number of people probably made that impossible. The chapel was for the nobles, but the servants had been to their own services, then congregated at the refectory for what was probably the best breakfast in town. And what a breakfast! There were whole pigs, roasted on spits and slathered with grease and fragrant herbs. There was chicken covered in bacon and cheese and stuffed with nuts and dates, cheeses on their own with small, sweet cracker breads and all sorts of olives, fish doused in creamy sauces and lamb stewed in rosemary; the kitchens must have been busy all night to have produced such a spread. Freshly baked bread was piled high, and Alyn swiftly found the cinnamon and raisin buns, which were her favourite. There was fruit of all kinds on a side table, and she made her way there to stand out of the crush, for this was not the sort of meal where people sat neatly on chairs to be fed. This was a meal to be shared by all, so there were, by now, very few servants actually on duty. She spotted Bensen weaving in and out of the crowd with a basket of bread, but later saw him tucking into a plate full of roast pork, so even the cooks were off duty, or mostly so.


    At some point during the eating, Pyrrhus fetched up by her elbow, stumbling into her slightly. She glanced down, and he gave her a wan smile.


    "What''s up?"


    "Nothing." He sported a bruise on his right cheek. She wondered if it was casual bullying or something more specific, and felt angry on his behalf. Shouldn''t his lord be doing something?


    "I''ve never seen a funeral at a Holy day service," she said, after the pause had gone on a little too long.


    "I have," he responded absently, then looked suddenly appalled. She wanted to ask what it was like, but guessed he wouldn''t say anything.


    "Did you know Jaquan?" she asked instead, but he shook his head, mouth conveniently full. She didn''t know where to take the conversation, if it could be called that, but after swallowing, he spoke again.


    "Your lord is here to investigate, isn''t he?"


    "He''s here visiting," Alyn said, uncertain how much she was supposed to reveal of what was clearly a known ''secret''. Pyrrhus nodded.


    "Do you know who did it?"


    "No. There are too many possibilities." He nodded again. Spurred by curiosity and a desire to tease, she asked, "do you know who did it?"


    Pyrrhus jumped and went pale, then shook his head hard. "No idea," he said firmly. "Absolutely no idea." Without looking at her, he dived back into the crowd surrounding the table, waving his empty plate by way of excuse. Frustrated, she stared after him. What does he know?


    She picked at the grapes while thinking. Pyrrhus knew something. He''d been to a funeral before, and didn''t want to talk about it. Did that have anything to do with his reticence? Where would that funeral have been? Either here, or Eighth Star Court. Here would be easy enough to check up on; Eighth Star Court... she wondered if Byran would reply in time, if she wrote a letter asking. Then she wondered what Miervaldis would think. Asking him first would be best.


    She did so later that day, when they were back in their room. He listened thoughtfully, then nodded when she suggested looking up funerals.


    "It''s worth a try. I''ll ask the Chroniclers, here and at Eighth Star Court," he said. "But they won''t necessarily know specifics, and your brother might. Good thinking." She felt warmly pleased, and hoped Byran would turn something up. Come to think of it, she hoped he''d reply. He wasn''t always terribly reliable.


    The rest of the Holy day - that is, until sundown - was normally spent in enforced leisure. The only meals available were cold leftovers from the enormous breakfast; cooks, servants and maids were all off duty. Only the pages were left to scurry around after their lords, but their service, of course, was not officially ''work''. Alyn shouldered past the other pages in the kitchen to squabble over the remains of the pork under the stern eye of the head cook, who had clearly refused to leave his kitchen to the tender mercies of a pack of hungry adolescents with licence to forage. Bensen was nowhere to be seen. After bringing the food back, she sat down to write to Byran, trying to phrase her request in such a way that it wasn''t obviously connected to the reason for their visit. She wondered briefly how much the other Star Courts knew of Jaquan''s murder, or if they even knew anything. When that was done and sealed - only the third time she''d ever used her official seal - she put the letter by the door, and went out to Lord Cassian''s study again, to finish cataloguing the papers.


    It took her several hours to finish, and by the time she turned over the last paper and wearily wrote order of repayment to scribe, spring 1309, the sky had turned a delicate purple with the onset of evening. The maids were lighting the corridor lamps as she walked away from the rooms; the light spread gently across the corridors, illuminating the corners. She looked back towards the suite, and all of a sudden something niggled at her, the knowledge that something someone had said was wrong. Something to do with the light, maybe? Frustrated and unable to put her finger on it, she made her way back to the suite, stopping in one of the plentiful gardens to breath in the twilight air. This particular garden - probably the Garden of Roses, she thought, but maybe the Ring Garden - was filled with scented flowers; all kinds of roses and more. Their perfume hung in the air, a welcome change after the stuffy, musty and slightly oppressive atmosphere of Lord Cassian''s study.


    As she rounded the corner that led to the stairs up to their suite landing, she saw a man walking away from them, his back to her. He was tall, dressed in shabby velvet, and limped slightly; with a shock, she realised Miervaldis was on his way out. Going to town? What was he hoping for? The streets would be full of people celebrating, she thought. Was that what he was after, a casual, anonymous celebration?


    She hesitated a moment, then hurried up to the room and shoved her written notes under the door, pushing them far enough in to be satisfied they were out of reach. Her quills and inks she left in a convenient alcove behind the lamp that glowed there; she thought they''d be safe enough. Then she hurried off to catch up with her lord, keen to know what was going on.


    She nearly didn''t find him. She ran down the corridor she''d seen him in, but at the end there was no sign where he had gone. Frustrated, she turned back and forth for few minutes, then went left, which she hoped was the more direct route to town. The corridor wound round the Court and brought her to the main gate, where the guards confirmed her lord had gone out for a walk.


    "He didn''t wait for you? Terrible," joked the older guard familiarly, and she smiled at him, feeling let down again. The other guard elbowed his companion to be quiet. Alyn went past them and out of the Court onto the long road that wound up to it. It was a long way without a carriage. She started walking.


    About half an hour later, she made it to the outskirts of Ellmore, the town nearest Fifth Star Court. She had not caught up with her lord, which had worried her, but when she got to the town, just at the point of giving up, she had spotted his tall form entering a tavern. She made her way down to it but didn''t go in, choosing instead to lurk in a street opposite. A coach from Fifth Star Court came past full of pages, clearly out for a night on the town; she shrank back, fearful of being recognised.


    Ellmore was a neat, well-looked after place, where the citizens looked on the whole content and well fed. In her six months at Fourth Star Court, Alyn had never made it outside the gates to the small town that nestled against the nearby forest, but she had spent plenty of time in the even smaller towns of her father''s lands, and once or twice she had been to Tevium, Third Star Court''s closest settlement. Ellmore was at once similar and very different; the streets were wider, for one thing, and the town was largely built on a plain; the roads were smooth and even, with gutters all along them. Tevium had rambled up and down several hills, and there were as many flights of stairs as there were cobbled, winding roads. Tevium was built of grey stone, buildings standing tall in ranks; Ellmore''s buildings were mostly constructed of golden stone with red tiled roofs, quite blocky in appearance but with the occasional elegant archway or set of pillars. Greenery tumbled over the tops of the walls and several of the streets were lined with trees. Yet it was also very familiar - the hubbub of commerce, people meeting, children running and shouting. Today in particular it bubbled with festivity; people milled in the streets laughing and talking, eating and drinking. The tantalising scent of roast pork wafted over from the next street and Alyn felt her stomach rumble. It had been a long time since her hard-won lunch, but she had brought no money with her in her hurry. A cluster of people came uproariously down the alley, clearly tipsy; she stood to one side and they saluted her with their cups, sloshing the mulled wine over her feet. Uneasily, Alyn drifted to the mouth of the street and peered out, but there was no sign of her lord, although there was a regular flow of people in and out of the tavern.


    She had nearly given up - again - when a tall stranger caught her eye. He was dressed in a tatty dark cloak and bore a staff, looking like a scholar down on his luck. She had actually looked him over once already and dismissed him, but his height and his limp drew her eyes back to him, and from behind, she recognised her lord''s tangled hair, still caught back in its ponytail. He was disguised? She caught her breath, then hurried after him.


    Miervaldis walked slowly enough that she could stay a long way behind him, mingling with the crowds and monitoring his progress from a distance. His height helped. He made his way steadily into town, not turning aside or hesitating, unremarked among the bustling crowds. She wondered how often he did this, dressing plainly and moving without fanfare among the common people. People don''t speak to nobles and rich men with carriages, he had said, and at the time she had taken it at face value. Now, though... she remembered the dark man''s words again. Did this count as untoward?


    He stopped only once, when something seemed to catch his eye. He waited by a window for a while, looking through it, then seemed to make up his mind suddenly, and went in. It was a Holy day, but a lot of shops opened after sundown to make the most of the cheerful crowds; this one sold candles, several of which flickered outside as an advertisement, displaying a range of colours and scents. Alyn came closer, not wanting to be caught but desperately curious. She peeked through the window, and saw her lord in conversation with the proprietor, a familiar woman in dark colours. Alyn struggled for a moment and then recalled; she was Jaquan''s cousin, the woman who had come to the funeral. She wondered what they were saying. From the look on the woman''s face, she did not recognise Miervaldis. Some of us still pay attention to the correct ways, she had said haughtily; Alyn thought that if she knew she spoke to a disguised lord, she would send him packing with a flea in his ear or worse, noble or not.


    At the counter, Miervaldis nodded, then straightened as though to walk away. Alyn hastily hid herself round the corner, wishing she could have heard what was said. She heard the door open and shut, waited until he was some distance away then scurried out to resume her pursuit. He didn''t go much further, but stopped at a tavern down a side street, looking through the window before going in. Alyn studied the tavern thoughtfully. It was a small, somewhat dilapidated building with several extensions of dubious provenance, including a rickety wooden hut from which surprisingly enticing cooking smells emerged. Its board, paint peeling slightly, proclaimed it to be the "Proverb in the Hand," an odd name, she thought. Looking carefully through the window, she saw Miervaldis in conversation with a bunch of men, dressed similarly to him. For a moment, she had the crazy idea they might all be disguised lords, but she dismissed the fancy as soon as it formed. These were scholars; they had to be, especially given the tavern name. Her lord had known he was coming here. Had he found this place on his last visit? Where had he picked up the clothes he was now wearing? Where were his proper clothes now?


    The group of men laughed, loudly enough to be heard through the window where she crouched. Miervaldis looked a lot less... harried, she thought. More relaxed. A waitress brought over a tray, and he jostled to snatch a pint with the rest. She desperately wanted to know what was being said, but for all its tumbledown air, the Proverb seemed to be a clean, well-looked after place inside, and it was small. She didn''t think she could hide anywhere and still overhear them. Frustrated, she retreated back to the street, and a nasty thought hit her. He didn''t know she was here. He would expect her to be in the rooms when he returned - it was full dark now, something she hadn''t noticed while concentrating on following him through the heaving, cheerful crowds. She bit her lip. There was no way she could beat his long stride home if she started at the same time as he did.


    I can''t hear anything. She glanced through the window from across the street; he looked settled, as though this was where he had been meaning to come. I can''t do much here. I should go back...


    The long walk didn''t appeal, but there was no point putting it off. With a sigh, she left her lord to his odd habits and started back through the town, hoping she wouldn''t get lost now she no longer had him to follow.


    The road was simple, but long, and she was limping too by the time she made it back, having turned her ankle twice over anonymous ridges in the dim light. For the last ten minutes, she''d been gripped by the horrible worry that somehow he''d made it back ahead of her, or he was about to come up behind her - either way, that he''d find out she''d been spying on him. As it happened, of course, she had nothing to worry about. Ythilda let her in, as she had done before, and Alyn spent an hour and a half just reading and waiting. Mostly waiting; she found it hard to concentrate.


    Eventually she heard the key in the lock and the door opened. She glanced up, trying to look natural; he was dressed in his original clothes, but was limping still. Was he not used to this much walking, she wondered, or had he hurt his ankle like she had?


    "You waited up again," he observed.


    "I don''t mind, my lord. Did you find anything out?" She had to ask. It may have been pushy, but she was far too curious to wait. Miervaldis pulled off his over-tunic, tossed it on a chair and sank into another with a sigh.


    "Yes, I did, as a matter of fact, although I don''t know how useful it will be. How about you?"


    "I finished the papers. They were all complete, official records. There was nothing half-finished."


    "Indeed. So either Jaquan hadn''t written anything, or what he was writing was taken away. Hmmm. Well done for making it through all that." He lapsed into silence, staring into the smouldering fire. Alyn waited as long as she could, then:


    "My lord? What did you find out? If I can ask?"


    He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.


    "I''m sorry, I should have said. I happened to come across that woman, Jaquan''s cousin. She''s a chandler. Her candles are quite good, actually, very smooth wax. She was saying how she likes to use oil from some plants to mix with her best beeswax..." he trailed off, staring absently at the fire again. Alyn shifted her chair, but it made no noise on the soft carpet, so she kicked the legs instead. He started.


    "I''m sorry. Yes. Anyway, I asked her about her cousin, offered my sympathies, and she said she barely knew him, just turned up because it was the proper thing to do. He wasn''t involved with good people, she said. He didn''t do good things. But she wouldn''t elaborate." He stood up, stiffly, and went to the table to pour himself a glass of water.


    "Then I talked to some other people, who didn''t know him as such, but had heard things - you know how rumour gets around. I wouldn''t trust them, exactly, but the general swell of opinion is that he wasn''t a nice person to know. You remember, the other scribes weren''t fond of him either. He would have had access to a lot of information, as a scribe. Most are discreet, but perhaps he wasn''t." He shrugged. "Nothing specific, though."


    Alyn nodded. What he''d said tallied well enough with what she had seen, she supposed. Miervaldis put the glass down, and yawned.


    "I''m going to bed," he said. "We''ll be seeing Lord Isidor tomorrow, I hope - if you can bear to miss the morning''s lessons?"


    Alyn giggled, and nodded. He made his way to his room, and she returned to her thinking, bending her head to the book by way of disguise. He had genuinely been wandering round town talking to people about the murder. It hadn''t been anything else, surely. It was unconventional, perhaps, but made sense for him to dress as a commoner. Reassured, she put her vague worries aside and stood up, putting the book on the table. She stretched, feeling the ache from the walk again, and started for her own room. Passing the other chair, she brushed against Miervaldis'' discarded over-tunic and knocked it off; annoyed, she bent over to pick it up. It was thicker than it looked, and felt funny in her hands. Puzzled, she examined it more closely, and realised with a nasty shock that it was the tunic he had worn as his disguise - but inside out. From one side, it looked like a slightly worn but serviceable thick tunic for a noble, but when turned inside out, it was a disreputable-looking garment fit, she thought, for a tavern-hopping scholar. That was no accident. Someone had put a lot of thought into these clothes. How many others did he have? What did he normally use them for? I was visiting some friends, she remembered him saying when she asked him why he hadn''t known about her service to him. Had they been the same sort of friends as the group in the Proverb? Was that why the letter had never reached him? Did he make a habit of hobnobbing with scholars? That sort of thing was frowned upon - was that why he wore a disguise? She recalled the book in the carriage, which she hadn''t seen since their arrival at Fifth Star Court. It hadn''t been a normal book. Not normal at all.


    Worried afresh, she went to bed, but didn''t sleep for several hours.

 Chapter 5

    Young Lord Isidor did not resemble his uncle very much, in looks or in manner. Alyn privately considered both a great relief, and, as much as they were his doing, to his credit. He was young, perhaps five years older than she was, slim with long dark hair pulled back into a fashionable queue. He looked much like his mother, Lady Reyhana, who accompanied them with an air of deep suspicion; she also had long dark hair, and they shared fine features and dark eyes.


    "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me," Miervaldis began after he had been ushered in and offered a seat and refreshment in the brightly lit living room. Alyn quietly took up her position to one side, to wait upon her lord. The room was a picture of artistic elegance, with pale walls and delicate, intricate little sculptures lending to its airy grace. Lord Isidor was not sitting; although he had been polite and good-natured, he was clearly itching to be doing something else, pacing the room and fidgeting with his goblet. His mother, the picture of demure propriety, occasionally cast him irritated glances which he completely ignored. Against her better judgement, Alyn found herself liking him.


    "You''re welcome, my lord," Lady Reyhana replied, placing her glass carefully and precisely on the glass tabletop. "What is it you wish to know?"


    "I''d like to ask you about the night Lord Cassian''s scribe was murdered."


    Lady Reyhana made a very small moue of distaste, as though the topic was not one appropriate for proper discussion. It made Alyn, already feeling small and scruffy, feel belligerent on behalf of her lord, but he carried on as though she had given her full consent.


    "My Lord Isidor, where were you that night?" Isidor checked his pacing and turned to face the group by the table.


    "I was out," he said bluntly. He looked just a little defiant.


    "Isidor -" his mother started, but Miervaldis held up a hand.


    "Where were you, if you were out, my lord?"


    "I can''t say."


    "Isidor!"


    "My lady, please don''t worry. Perhaps you would prefer to -"


    "I''m staying here, thank you!" Alyn flinched at the lady''s tone. Miervaldis shrugged minutely.


    "Very well, my lady. Lord Isidor, if you were out, at what time did you return?"


    "It was around dawn."


    "And you didn''t see anything at any time during the night?"


    "I told you, I wasn''t here." He looked uneasy. "My lord, I''m sorry I can''t help, but really, I wasn''t here and I didn''t see anything. I don''t know who killed Jaquan."


    "Thank you, my lord." Alyn thought Miervaldis was going to ask about the Niethians, the money, the argument Isidor was said to have had. Instead, he turned to face Isidor''s mother. "My lady, where were you that night?"


    "I was here," Lady Reyhana said icily. "I was working on my embroidery. You can ask my maid, Shira; she attended me. I heard nothing. Our rooms are too far away from Lord Cassian''s, after all, and I did not leave here."


    "You ate here?"


    "That''s right." She looked so composed, Alyn thought. Very proper. She couldn''t tell if the lady was lying or not. Could she have killed Jaquan? But why would she want to?


    They left after that short and unsatisfactory interview. Mindful of her lord''s instructions, Alyn said nothing until they were in their room again and the door was locked behind them.


    "My lord," she said, as soon as she could, "why didn''t you ask about the money? About the Niethians?"


    Miervaldis sat down in one of the chairs and tipped his head back, looking suddenly tired.


    "I didn''t think Lord Isidor would appreciate a question about his finances in front of his mother," he said drily. "Or the other, in fact, although I don''t believe he is a member of that or any other group."


    Alyn stared at him, but he had closed his eyes and didn''t notice. How could he know that Isidor wasn''t in with such a group? She squashed the little voice that piped up inside to say if he was in the group, he''d know if Isidor wasn''t, and went to sit down herself. Miervaldis lifted his head and smiled ruefully at her.


    "I''m sorry, I didn''t sleep much last night," he said. "Would you mind looking through the funeral records of this court, as you suggested? It would only be since your friend joined, so just a year, yes? Tell the Chamberlain you''re asking on my behalf."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said obediently, and went to collect her pens and paper. She looked back when she reached the door, but he''d closed his eyes again and looked like he was asleep. Still feeling uneasy, she slipped out of the door and closed it quietly behind her, then set off in search of the Chamberlain.


    Twenty minutes and two circuits of the Court later, she realised she had no idea how to find him. Frustrated, she went to the front gate, hoping the gate guards would know. In Fourth Star Court, they seemed able to effortlessly keep tabs on everyone, although thinking about it, she realised they''d never known where Miervaldis was.


    The guards at Fifth Star Court proved just as knowledgeable, telling her that at this hour of the morning the Chamberlain was likely to be found taking tea with several of the Court ladies, either in the Swan Garden or in the upper chamber next to it. Alyn thanked them, then asked on the offchance if Lord Isidor had gone out. They looked dubiously at each other.


    "I don''t think so," said the bearded one. "I''m sure we''d have seen him. He normally heads out on his flashy chestnut, so maybe you should check the stables."


    "Thanks," Alyn said, and hurried off. The stables were more or less on the way to the Swan Garden so she took the slight detour, telling herself she wasn''t going to be long and that Miervaldis wouldn''t mind. The archway leading to the stables was cool and dark, feeling almost like a doorway to another world.


    The stables were situated along one side of a long courtyard, a double row of horseboxes with a wide, roofed passage in between. A few stray bits of straw blew across the wide paving stones, but on the whole they were clean and well-swept. Two carriages waited at the other end, one with a pair of horses harnessed to it and one without; the horses were being held by a groom. No-one else was visible, although as she hurried along the length of the courtyard, a few horses in the outer stalls poked their noses out inquisitively, and she could hear noises from within the stable block. The groom watched her incuriously.


    "Hey," she said, a little breathlessly as she arrived.


    "Hey," he responded, in kind. She bit her lip, suddenly unsure of how to proceed and feeling like an idiot. The nearer horse whuffled and stretched out his nose to lip at her hair. The groom tugged his head down gently.


    "Big daft creature," he said to the horse. "She''s not brought her hair for you to eat."


    Alyn giggled. "I wanted to ask you something, actually," she said, feeling a bit bolder.


    "Oh aye? Something about Lord Cassian''s scribe?" Clearly everyone in the entire Court knew. She supposed she wasn''t very surprised.


    "Sort of," she said. "It was actually about Lord Isidor. He''s got a horse here, right?"


    "That''s him over there, the chestnut." The groom gestured and Alyn turned to look. Indeed, halfway down the stalls was a bright copper head, looking interestedly in their direction.


    "Do you get the horse ready for him if he goes out?"


    "Not usually. He likes to do that himself. Very fond of that horse, he is, see."


    "So you wouldn''t know if he was out at any time?"


    "Happen I might. Depends on when, see. You thinking of the night the scribe was murdered?"


    "I was," Alyn admitted, wondering why she''d even tried to be discreet.


    "He went out that evening before the lords normally eat," the groom confirmed. "His horse was back by the morning shift, so he must have brought it in overnight, but I don''t know when."


    "Who was on the night shift?"


    "I was. That''s the thing, see, I was asleep. That''s normal, because the night shift is usually quiet. But Lord Isidor''s horse isn''t near the groom''s end, so he could''ve brought him in any time and stabled him and I wouldn''t''ve noticed, if he was quiet about it."


    "Thank you," Alyn said. There wasn''t really much else to say, but the groom grinned at her.


    "Your lord''s a right one, he is," he said, almost conspiratorially. "Heard him talking to th¡¯ stablemaster a couple of nights ago. All interested in the horses, he was."


    "Really?" He had said he''d spoken to the stablemaster, she remembered, but he hadn''t shown any interest in horses before. He didn''t even have any, at least, not that she knew. How much do I really know about him, anyway? Was he just asking because it was something to do with the murder? What could it be?


    "That''s right," the groom confirmed. "Tell him if he wants to come down again, Stablemaster says he''s welcome."


    "I will. Thank you." Alyn left him there still holding his charges and hurried to the Swan Garden, wondering if she''d left it too late to catch the Chamberlain.


    She found him at the entrance to the Swan Garden, talking to one of the housekeepers, and waited for him to finish as she had before. When he had dismissed the woman, he turned to face her with an odd half-harried, half-polite look on his face. He must be sick of us, she thought, as she dipped in the respectful obeisance.


    "My Lord Chamberlain, could I please see the funeral records for the last year?"


    Now he just looked surprised. It was an odd request, she supposed.


    "I don''t see why not... but hang on, is this to do with the, er..."


    "It is, my lord," Alyn confirmed. "Lord Miervaldis sent me."


    "Er, ah, well, fine, then. Please see the Chroniclers, and tell them I''ve given you permission. You''ll find them north of the refectory."


    "Thank you," said Alyn, and he hurried away, sweating slightly. I could have just said that anyway, she thought, a bit disgruntled.


    The Chroniclers were easy to find, one door down from the library and, as specified, north of the refectory. The head Chronicler himself was a tall, spindly man who used a monocle on a stick to look at everything, including her. He peered down at her from what seemed like a great height, and blinked bemusedly when she presented her request.


    "Well, well, yes, the funeral records," he mused. "I expect we can find them for you, no problem at all." He turned round slowly, as though afraid he might break, and shuffled back into the room, which was long and thin and walled with bookshelves. Alyn watched his retreating back; halfway across the floor, he remembered she was there and waved at her to come in.


    The assistant Chronicler he introduced her to was a good deal younger, and thankfully had much better eyesight and hearing. He was also very interested in the murder of the scribe, and Alyn had to answer several of his questions before getting to state her own. She supposed it was a fair trade.


    "Oh, right, of course," he said eventually, remembering she had come with a request. "Funerals over the past year?"


    "Yes please."


    He led the way to the end of the room where the stacks were, past a row of desks where bookbinders and book menders worked. The fumes from the glue made Alyn feel lightheaded, although her guide didn''t seem to notice; she supposed he was used to it. He stopped in front of a vast bookshelf reaching two storeys high, and pulled out a book from one of the lower shelves. He examined its title, frowned, put it back and took the one next to it.


    "This is it," he said. "Ah, if you wouldn''t mind reading it here? We can''t let the records out of our keeping, you see."


    "That''s all right," Alyn said. He guided her to a chair - thankfully, some way away from the glue fumes - and left her to read. The format was a little strange, but it didn''t take her long to work out how to read it. She made brief notes; there had been five funerals on Holy days, none of them noble, none of them obviously connected with Pyrrhus or his brother Kadir. Thanking the assistant and the head Chronicler, although the latter didn''t seem to remember who she was, she went back to her rooms deep in thought.


    Miervaldis was awake when she got back, sitting in the chair nearest the tall windows and writing something in his neat hand on a piece of paper resting on a book on his knees. Alyn wondered briefly why he wasn''t in the study where there was a proper desk. He looked up when she came in.


    "Ah, Alyn. Did you find anything?"


    "Nothing very obvious, my lord." She put her pens down on the small table and brought her papers to him. He scanned down the list.


    "Indeed. Well, it was a long shot anyway. Perhaps your brother will be able to cast some light on all this." Alyn could not imagine Byran casting light on anything.


    "My lord, I spoke to the groom who was on watch during the night Jaquan was murdered."


    "Oh yes?"


    "He said Lord Isidor¡¯s horse was back by the morning shift but he doesn''t know when. He was asleep for the overnight shift and didn''t wake."


    "And Isidor said around dawn, didn''t he. Well... it could still tally." He looked thoughtful, but didn''t say any more. Outside, footsteps thudded in the corridor as someone ran past, a page in a hurry perhaps. A flock of birds flew past the window, casting little brief shadows on the paper Miervaldis held.


    "My lord, what''s happening?" It came out before she could stop herself; Alyn bit her tongue. He looked up, apparently surprised.


    "I''m sorry?"


    "I mean, with all this. We don''t know anything! Who do we talk to next? What do we do? How can we work anything out -"


    "Calm down," Miervaldis said gently, and Alyn shut up, realising she had been babbling. He put the carbon stick in his pocket. "I''m sorry. I haven''t been doing much explaining, have I? Probably we should have talked before.


    "Anyway, I''ve been writing down what we know and what we might conclude. If you would go and ask for our lunch, please, I''ll finish the notes and we can go over it properly." He smiled at her. "It''s not as bad as it looks, really."


    Alyn pushed up from the wall and nodded, still feeling a little dubious. She went to request the food, almost expecting him to have left by the time she came back, but he was still in the same chair, still staring out of the window, although the paper had more notes on it now.


    "I''m ready, my lord."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Good. Well, the way I see it, there are two questions we need to ask. First, who could have killed Jaquan. Second, who would have wanted to.


    "In answer to the first, there are too many options. Lord Cassian could have done it, of course. So could any of the household staff, or probably anyone who knew them. Lord Isidor, possibly even his mother. The other scribes. That''s far too long a list.


    "The second question is harder, because although Jaquan doesn''t seem to have been well-liked, there''s no immediately obvious motive for killing him. He hadn''t suddenly gained a lot of money, he hadn''t angered anyone just before he died. Or if he did, no-one''s told us. But it could be that Lord Cassian is being clumsily framed. No-one likes him either, but there are motives there. Lord Isidor, his heir, apparently needed money."


    He paused and looked over at her. "Make sense so far?"


    "There''s what Brenna saw -"


    He nodded. "I''m coming to that. So then, there are the witnesses. We only have one, really, and that''s Brenna, the maid, who was on late duty that night and saw Lord Cassian by the study door. She said he looked angry -"


    "Ah!" Alyn hadn''t meant to interrupt, but that niggling feeling had clarified. Instead of being angry, her lord looked quite excited.


    "What is it, Alyn? You remembered something?"


    "Yes, my lord - Brenna must have been lying!" She expected him to be shocked, but instead Miervaldis just looked thoughtful.


    "Really? Why do you think that?"


    "You can''t see anything in that alcove. I was there in the evenings after working on the papers, and even when all the lamps are freshly lit, that corner''s in shadow. Unless she''d been close enough to touch him, I don''t think she could have seen his expression, and didn''t she say he looked angry?"


    "You''re right, she did. I thought that was a bit odd, that she''d notice that. Although it''s possible she did see him and just projected the emotion onto the memory. But no, I think you may be right. So." He made a note on the paper.


    "Our one witness may not be a witness after all. If she''s deliberately lying, though, why would she do that? Is it just that she really hates Lord Cassian, or is there someone she''s trying to protect?" He fell silent for a while, fiddling with the carbon stick. His hands were already black with carbon, Alyn noticed. The knock on the door that announced their lunch seemed very loud.


    It wasn''t Bensen who''d brought the food, but there was a little pot of raisins, which made Alyn smile. She locked the door behind the maid and went to sit down by the tray. Miervaldis had already poured water for them both, and had taken bread and cheese, although he hadn''t eaten anything. He was staring thoughtfully at the paper he held in his hand.


    "I''m still not happy with the idea that this is a plot to frame Lord Cassian," he said eventually. He stood up, dropping the paper on the chair behind him and took a bite from the bread, chewing and speaking at the same time, as though if he stopped talking, he''d lose his train of thought. "If it is, it''s a pretty bad one. And we just don''t know enough. We have lots of little titbits - that Brenna said she saw him and probably lied, that nobody likes him, or liked Jaquan for that matter, that your pageboy friend is worried about us being here, that Lord Isidor won''t say what he was doing that night, but was out somewhere unspecified. There''s his argument with his uncle, too. And Jaquan was working on something, but we don''t know what... There''s a truth somewhere, but I don''t know how to uncover it." He looked frustrated, then amused. "It''s like a big knot, and somewhere there''s a trailing string which, if we pull it, will make the whole thing unravel. What do you think the string is, hmm?"


    "I, um..." The summary had made Alyn''s head spin. It all seemed very confusing, but the one thing that stuck with her was what Jaquan had been working on. Hesitantly, she said so. "It''s just... if the document he was writing wasn''t important, why was it gone when we looked there? Maybe it really wasn''t to frame Lord Cassian after all."


    Miervaldis gave her a thoughtful look, and nodded.


    "You are probably right," he said, "although I can''t help being curious about Lord Isidor. What on earth could be more important than evading a murder charge? Now, I seem to remember there were a few papers in Jaquan''s big pile that were quite crumpled. I don''t suppose you noted which ones?"


    "No my lord, I''m sorry..."


    "Well, perhaps it would be worth checking. I think it''s likely that what he was copying will be crumpled, and some of them were more crumpled than others. But finish your lunch first," he added, as Alyn stood up, swallowing hastily. She sat down again, trying not to cough. He poured more water into her glass and held it out for her. "I think I''ll come too."


    After all the time Alyn had spent running errands, fetching lunches and teas and going to lessons, it felt quite odd to be following her lord around like a page should. A few steps behind and on the alert for his command, said the ancient rulebook that every page was supposed to read. She didn''t expect Miervaldis to issue peremptory commands, but she kept to the regulation distance as they made their way towards Lord Cassian''s study. It was early in the afternoon, and there were plenty of people about; several stopped and stared quite openly. Alyn supposed they hadn''t seen her lord very often. He hadn''t been out that much, after all. She scurried to keep up with his long-legged stride, trying her best not to look too undignified.


    She still had the key from the time she had been working on the records, so they were able to go straight to the study without needing to consult the Chamberlain, although they did run across him at the east end staircase. He was on his way up the stairs, and stopped when he saw them, looking surprised. Miervaldis passed him with a nod and a greeting; the Chamberlain responded politely, but looking back, Alyn saw him staring after them. Were they upsetting him somehow, she wondered. As Miervaldis neared the bottom of the staircase, a door opened across the corridor, and a slim man stepped out, dressed unobtrusively in dark colours that weren''t quite black. Alyn barely noticed him at first, but as he drew nearer, she realised with a shock that it was the dark man who had spoken to her before leaving Fourth Star Court. Miervaldis didn''t appear to notice him, and the dark man paid her lord no more courtesy than a deferential head-bob, but as she passed him, he nodded soberly at her. Alyn felt her breath catch; she forced her eyes to look ahead, at her lord''s back, but as she hurried after him, she knew the dark man understood she had acknowledged him, however involuntary that had been.


    She was still feeling shaken when they reached Lord Cassian''s study. Questions beat through her mind; what was he doing here? Had something happened? Was he here to watch over them, or for something completely different? Would he talk to her later, expect her to betray her lord? Was it betrayal, if Miervaldis truly was... but she stopped the thought there, as though putting it into words, however silent, might bring it to truth. Ahead of her, unaware of the turmoil in his page''s head, Miervaldis reached Lord Cassian''s rooms and stopped.


    "You have the key, Alyn?"


    "Uh, ah, yes, my lord." She fumbled in her pocket and handed it to him. She felt like her hands should be shaking, but they stayed quite steady, and thankfully, her normally perceptive lord didn''t seem to notice her distress. He unlocked the door and strode across to Jaquan''s desk, where she¡¯d left the papers in one big pile on the floor. Alyn stayed outside the door for a few seconds more, trying to get her balance; when she felt under control again, she went inside and locked the door behind her. And then she stopped.


    ¡°My lord ¨C¡°


    Miervaldis was on his knees by the desk, flipping quickly through the papers that lay scattered around the desk in a heap. He looked up at the alarm in her voice.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°My lord, the papers have been moved.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I left them in a big pile by the wall. But they¡¯ve fallen over¡­ they¡¯re all messed up.¡±


    He frowned, looking down at the heap. ¡°You¡¯re sure? This is a pile, after all, just a somewhat disorganised one.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord. I¡¯m sure. They were as neat as I could leave them.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Well, we¡¯d better have a hunt through, see if there¡¯s anything missing. We can compare what¡¯s here with what you catalogued. And see if I can find the paper I remember.¡±


    ¡°What paper, my lord?¡±


    ¡°Ah, there was a piece of paper I noticed from before, some sort of administrative order on behalf of a maidservant. It was quite badly crumpled, and I noticed it because it was in a pile of papers that were completely undamaged."


    "You mean - someone had tried to hide it there?" Alyn guessed.


    "I thought that might be the case, but it could have been chance. And why would someone hide it so badly and not bother to remove it? Surely it would have made more sense to remove it earlier, if it was that important."


    ¡°But it¡¯s been removed now?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s gone or not ¨C we don¡¯t know if anything¡¯s gone yet, but someone has been looking through this pile for something. Maybe... maybe someone is more worried now."


    "That means that it''s someone who''s keeping up with what we''re doing."


    Miervaldis gave her a long, thoughtful look.


    "Yes," he said eventually. "Although... that could be many people." Alyn supposed that was true. For all she knew, it could be Bensen, or the physicker Evan Hughes. They probably knew as much as anyone else.


    "It also means that the papers are important, of course," her lord went on. "You put the catalogue you made somewhere safe, didn''t you?"


    "Yes," Alyn said. She''d picked up the papers when she had returned from the town that night and stowed them in her case.


    "Would you mind fetching them, please?"


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said, and hurried from the room, leaving him to stand guard over the papers. She chose a long, circuitous route back to their rooms in an effort to avoid seeing the dark man, but ran across nobody more frightening than a tired, angry-looking servant wielding a broom to remove spiderwebs from the tall ceilings above the back staircase.


    When she returned, Miervaldis had gone to the windows to look out. Alyn brought the catalogue over to the desk, and he jumped at the sound of the chair bumping against wood.


    "Are the papers still in order, do you think?"


    "They might be, my lord." She looked at the top paper, a grant of leave to a maidservant named Tillia. On her catalogue, in the neatest writing she could muster, she had noted: Grant of leave to maid: 6 weeks, summer of 1304, fourth year after Golden Year. "I think they are."


    "Let''s see." He sat down opposite her, folding his long legs and wincing slightly. He put Tillia''s grant of leave to one side, and took the second paper down. "This is a record of recompense to a steward for... ah, for an unspecified injury." He looked disapproving. "These are all Lord Cassian''s records, I believe, since they were being administered by Lord Cassian''s scribes. References to ''unspecified injuries'' are... indicative." He pursed his lips, and set the document down. "Does that fit the catalogue?"


    "Yes, my lord." It said: Recompense steward for injury, spring of 1310, tenth year after Golden Year. They were not in chronological order, of course, having been scattered all over the floor when she had started the catalogue. Miervaldis nodded, and picked up the third one.


    They carried on in teamwork for over an hour. Alyn found it both tedious and absorbing by turns; each paper might be the one that had been stolen, and she realised she was waiting for each reading avidly, hoping it wouldn''t match her catalogue entry. A few times there were false alarms, where the papers had become mixed up, either by her or by the putative thief, but in each case the missing entry was found to be next in the pile, or a few papers down. The sunlight slanting through the tall windows angled round to light on the diminishing pile as Miervaldis read on, light voice measured and steady reciting page after page. Most were grants of some kind; grants of leave, recompense for injury (and there were a few of the unspecified kind as well as a fair share of falls, horse kicks and illness), contracts of employment and notices of dismissal. Alyn almost missed the important entry; in a kind of trance, she heard her lord say, "contract of employment for Timmis Deasson, coach driver," and she was about to confirm it when her brain caught up with her eyes and she stopped, mouth open. The catalogue entry read: Grant of leave for illness to maidservant, third year before Orchid Year, 1321.


    "No, my lord," she said instead, "this says a grant of leave for illness to a maidservant. Ah, the coach driver employment''s the next on the list, though." Miervaldis nodded and picked up the next piece of paper, but that was also not a grant made to a maidservant in 1321. The excitement quickened as they went through the remaining pages, each one catalogued in an increasingly untidy hand, none of them a grant made to the right person in the right season of the right year. When they finally reached the end, Miervaldis looked up with a smile.


    "So there was something missing," he said, sounding very pleased with himself. "And you''ve got it written down, so it must have been stolen - well, you finished last night, right? So it could even have been stolen some time today!"


    "If I wrote it down right," Alyn said, perversely pessimistic.


    "I''m sure you did. What was it again?"


    "Grant of leave to maidservant, for illness. I think that means time and maybe money that she needed to recover. And it was in 1321."


    "Two years ago. Hmm. It''s a shame there''s no name."


    "I''m sorry."


    "No, no, thank you for making the catalogue. Now we know that whatever happened, it must be something to do with what Jaquan was writing, and the grant to the maidservant."


    "Could it have been Brenna?"


    "I suppose it might have been, but probably not. If I understand it right, Brenna is employed by the Chamberlain on behalf of the court, while the servants in these orders would have been Lord Cassian''s, hired personally by him to serve here or in his own court. Unfortunately, that means this would probably have been the only record. However..." he paused, looking thoughtful. "I suspect the servants will know who she was. That''s something we can ask Ythilda."


    He heaved himself to his feet with a groan; Alyn started to get up and collapsed as her right leg came to tingling, agonising life. She bent over with a groan.


    "Are you all right?" He sounded concerned.


    "Pins and needles, lord," she gasped through clenched teeth. She felt silly, but it was such a strong feeling it took her breath away. He waited until she managed to get to her feet, and they made their way back through the court as the maidservants ran around lighting the lamps for the onset of evening.


    Upon their return to their rooms, Miervaldis sent Alyn out, ostensibly to fetch him dinner but primarily to find Ythilda. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be seen that evening, and when Alyn finally ran across a maidservant who didn''t look hopelessly busy, she was told that today was Ythilda''s day off.


    "She''ll be back tomorrow," the girl said cheerfully, and hefted the bucket she was carrying. Alyn took the point, and stood aside to let the maid past, wondering what to do, other than fetch her lord his dinner. Eventually, she began making her way down towards the kitchen, which was quite a way; in her search for Ythilda she''d ventured into some of the most far-flung corridors of the Court. She realised she was all alone, and that if the dark man came upon her now, she''d have no way to avoid speaking to him. She walked as fast as she could, repressing the desire to run, but had to stop on rounding the corner to avoid bumping into a maid dusting one of the numerous sculptures that decorated Fifth Star Court.


    "I''m sorry," she said to the startled girl, then realised it was Brenna. The maid didn''t recognise her, of course. She looked disgruntled and then wary, features dark. Impulsively, Alyn decided to try her luck.


    "I don''t suppose you knew a girl who served Lord Cassian a couple of yours ago, do you? One who had to take leave to recover from something?"


    Brenna jumped, and her face darkened further.


    "Who are you?"


    "I''m Alyn, serving as page to Lord Miervaldis." Far from finding that reassuring, Brenna looked even more tense.


    "Why do you want to know?"


    Alyn realised too late that she hadn''t thought this through at all. She tried improvising.


    "We just wanted a list of servants, that''s all. People who served him, who know him. We want to talk to them. Do you know her?"


    "You been talking to the scribes?"


    Alyn blinked; the question seemed out of place.


    "No..."


    "You should. Liliya''s long gone and away, and a good thing too."


    "What? Why?"


    "Never you mind that, it''s none o'' your business." And she pointedly turned her back on Alyn and went on dusting the statue, although the ferocity of her brushing made the little figurine wobble dangerously. Alyn backed away carefully, and went on her way to the kitchen, wondering what had caused the outburst.


    To her delight, she ran into Bensen at the kitchen side entrance. He was standing outside in the relative cool, drinking, and seemed preoccupied.


    "Thank you for the raisins," she said on approach, and he jumped.


    "I didn''t see you there! You''re welcome. Come for dinner, have you?"


    "Yes please."


    "What is it you''d like? We have rabbit stew, and a pork joint." Miervaldis had never shown any preference, or at least had never told her what he liked, and had always eaten whatever she brought up.


    "One of each, please," she said, thinking that she''d be happy with either.


    "You should eat with the others some time, you know," Bensen said, showing no signs of going to fetch the food.


    "Why''s that?"


    "It''d be... well, more polite, you know." He flushed a little.


    "I suppose. Um..."


    "What is it?"


    "You''ve been here a while, right?"


    "Five years since I apprenticed."


    "Did you know Liliya, who served Lord Cassian?"


    "Brenna''s friend? Only a bit."


    "Brenna''s friend?" Alyn was startled. She''d assumed Brenna had hated the other girl.


    "That''s right. They were very close, but Liliya was sent away two, maybe three years ago."


    "Do you know why?"


    Bensen gave her a long, careful look.


    "This to do with... Jaquan?"


    "Might be."


    "Well, I don''t know for sure, but you know what they say about Lord Cassian, right?"


    "No," said Alyn, a little annoyed by all the hedging. Bensen raised an eyebrow.


    "I suppose you''re new here," he allowed. "But you must have seen the way he behaves."


    "We only met him once."


    "You''re lucky. He, well, he has a bad record with servants. Especially female ones." And he nodded significantly to her, then turned to the kitchen. Alyn stared after him, remembering Lord Cassian''s remarks about her, and how angry Miervaldis had been. Had Cassian done something to Liliya? Was that why she had been sent away to recover? Was that why Brenna hated him so much? Was that why she was trying to frame him?


    Did that mean Brenna was responsible for the murder, though, or was she just taking advantage of it? Frustrated, Alyn hopped from one foot to another, wanting to get back to her lord and tell him what she had learned. Eventually, Bensen returned, sweating from the heat in the kitchen and bearing a laden tray.


    "Sorry, I can''t help you carry it," he said as she struggled to hold it level. "I''m back on duty now and it''s time to serve in the Main Hall."


    "That''s fine, thank you," said Alyn, leaning back. "I''ll manage."


    "Tell your lord to come down tomorrow," Bensen called after her as she made her way back down the corridor.


    Miervaldis listened thoughtfully as she related Brenna''s comments and Bensen''s answers. After she had finished, he stared at the dark fireplace for a while.


    "It could be that she''s simply taking advantage," he said eventually. "It doesn''t seem likely that she''d murder another servant just to frame Lord Cassian... and surely if she were that angry she''d have done it two years ago, when Liliya had to leave. If that''s the right girl. Or she''d have tried doing something to Lord Cassian directly. But yes, taking advantage of this does seem to fit what we know of her character. Well done, Alyn." He took a long drink of the light ale they''d been given with the food, and grimaced slightly. "We can''t assume that''s the case, though. She may really have seen Lord Cassian that night. That''s the problem; there''s nothing definite. Only endless redirections."


    He fell silent again, and Alyn, having nothing to say, poured more ale for them both and carried on eating.

 Chapter 6

    The next morning, Alyn went back to lessons. There was a different lord teaching, a nervous man who spoke in a too-quiet monologue. The lesson was half an hour shorter, and she sensed that was both deliberate and a great relief to the teacher. Nobody showed much surprise at her presence or commented on her absence the day before, and she didn''t think the teacher even noticed she was there.


    She tailed Pyrrhus out of the hall and smiled innocently at him when he spotted her. He looked nervous and a bit defiant, but when she asked if he was going to the refectory, he didn''t try to evade her. They walked down together in silence she hoped was friendly.


    The refectory was still mostly empty, thanks to the lesson finishing so early. The counters were unmanned, although there was a bowl of fruit on the near one. Copying Pyrrhus'' example, Alyn picked a pear and ate it, leaning against the wall. It was soft and sweet, much sweeter than the pears in Third Star Court. She licked her fingers thoughtfully, and put the stalk on the counter.


    The far doors swung open, and several more pages headed in in a hurry, then seeing that there was no-one present to serve food, slowed right down and clustered together. Alyn was just considering how to start a conversation when someone else hurried in behind the gaggle of pages, and made straight for the counter.


    "Lord Isidor," she murmured, recognising Lord Cassian''s young heir. She felt Pyrrhus twitch. Lord Isidor came over at a half-walk, half-run. He was dressed for the outdoors; leather breeches, a half-coat and long boots. Probably going riding, she guessed. He nodded briefly to her, then smiled cheerfully at Pyrrhus as he reached past them both and grabbed a couple of apples from the bowl.


    "Good morning, my lord," said Pyrrhus deferentially, also smiling. Alyn echoed the greeting.


    "Morning," said Isidor, pocketing the apples. "I''ll see you later, all right?" That was aimed at Pyrrhus, who bobbed his head, still smiling. The young lord headed away again, still moving fast. Watching him made Alyn feel slow and lazy.


    "You know him?" she asked Pyrrhus.


    "Yes, since I came here. That''s Lord Isidor. But you knew his name too."


    "We met him yesterday." She felt Pyrrhus tense, realising what the circumstances must have been. "He''s Lord Cassian''s heir, you know," she went on. "We had to talk to him."


    "You don''t think he did it?"


    "I don''t know."


    "You don''t know?"


    "He wouldn''t say much. He was out, that''s all." Alyn realised belatedly that that may have been more information than she ought to impart, but she wanted to get Pyrrhus to talk, and since Isidor had told them nothing, she didn''t think that telling someone else the same would matter. "I don''t understand why, though," she continued. "I mean, it seems so stupid, in that situation."


    Pyrrhus pushed up from the wall with a sudden flare of energy and rounded on her.


    "He''s not stupid! How can you say that? You''ve got no idea what''s going on, what he has to deal with!" Wide-eyed, Alyn stared at him, inches from her face and transformed with anger. She hadn''t expected that reaction.


    "It is stupid," she responded, wanting to goad him into saying more, and suspecting that if she let him calm down and answer rationally, he would clam up again. "I mean, come on, he''s a murder suspect! What''s more important than that?"


    Pyrrhus ducked his head, and the anger died abruptly. He mumbled something.


    "Sorry?"


    He looked up again, and she saw fear and anger in his eyes.


    "Nothing!" he snapped, and then the server banged her ladle on the counter behind them, making both pages jump. Pyrrhus looked at the food, looked back at Alyn, then grabbed another pear and stalked out of the hall. Alyn watched him go, feeling guilty.


    She ate her own food alone, then wandered out to hunt for Ythilda, but the maid was nowhere to be seen. Given the size of Fifth Star Court, that wasn''t very surprising. Instead, she explored, expanding her mental map of the big court. She became quite engrossed in a set of small, winding passages leading from the second floor of the north tower into several small courtyards, forming an inadvertent maze; so much so that she almost forgot the second lesson. Pyrrhus wasn''t there, and she felt a bit relieved, and then guilty for feeling relieved. The quiet lord muttered for another hour, then left as abruptly as he had in the morning, and Alyn filed out with the others, wondering what the lesson was supposed to have been about. She felt as though the day had gone too quickly and she hadn''t found anything out, hadn''t done anything. Except upset Pyrrhus, of course. Going to lessons didn''t seem to be helping much.


    When she got back to her room, Miervaldis was examining his clothes, which he had laid out roughly on his big bed. He turned to smile as she approached.


    "I was told by your friend the apprentice cook that I should go to dinner in the hall," he said. Alyn was horrified.


    "I''m so sorry, my lord! He did say so yesterday but I never thought..."


    "I don''t mind. There were reasons, but... you''ll probably see why I prefer to eat separately. It''s not very important, and he is right, you know. It would be polite to go. So I need to choose clothes, and so do you." He looked pointedly at her, and she realised she was wearing the same clothes she''d worn since the first day at Fifth Star Court, and they were a bit the worse for wear. Illiana always used to get angry when I did this at home.


    She went to her own room, closing the door behind her, and dug through her chest for some fresh clothes. There was no need for her to put on anything particularly special; clean livery would be adequate. For her lord, it was a different matter, and she was surprised to find herself a little worried that he''d pick something suitable. It wasn''t as if there was much choice.


    In the end, when she went back out to the main room, he was wearing a dark red linen waistcoat over a puff-sleeved shirt. It was plain, but rich enough to be appropriate. He''d even tied his hair back again, and the little wispy curls that had bobbed around his ears had been ruthlessly yanked out of the way.


    "Shall we go?"


    "Yes, my lord." She fell in behind him at the appropriate distance, and tailed him to the Great Hall.


    She''d been to the Great Hall before, during her travels around the court, and she''d taken the chance to poke her head in the one time it was open, but never got up the courage to step any further. Now, her entrance sanctioned walking behind her lord, she was too busy trying not to walk into people to look around properly. The Great Hall was enormous, big enough for three of Fourth Star Court''s Main Hall, and the ceiling was vaulted, each arch individually decorated with animals, flowers, and abstract designs. She walked on black and white tiles, punctuated here and there by small dark green tiles edged with gold. The walls were dark wood carved in swirls that caught the eye, picked out with a beautiful inlaid pattern in pale wood. Tall windows were positioned above head height, and she was sorry it was late for each one bore a different stained glass pattern, and the effect during the day must be stunning. Ahead, past a knot of nobles and attendant pages, she saw long dark tables spread with dark green cloth down the centre. Light flickered from numerous candelabras and glinted from the impressive array of silverware. Freshly cut flowers adorned the tables, positioned around the wide range of food already laid out; fresh bread with butter, cheese, salted fish and cured meat, and of course, bowls of olives.


    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pyrrhus, attendant upon a tall lord with a friendly smile and a shock of gold hair. Lord Lysandros, she remembered him saying. Miervaldis walked unhurriedly towards the tables, ignoring the groups of nobles talking together. Several other nobles were already seated; there didn''t seem to be any specific order, or if there was, Alyn didn''t know it. She worried; did her lord know where to sit? Should she have looked this up? But he appeared entirely unconcerned, moving up between the left hand side table and the wall until a plump lord in an overly loud crimson doublet looked up, beamed, and gestured.


    "Lord Miervaldis, am I right? Please, do sit down." Alyn found herself an unobtrusive place by the wall, and waited. She''d never served before, not properly, although she knew what she was supposed to do, and probably more important, what not to do. She looked around. The plump lord''s page was an older boy, not from her class. Other than Pyrrhus and two of the younger pages, she didn¡¯t recognise anybody. Lord Cassian was not present, neither were Lord Isidor and Lady Reyhana.


    "I''m Ivan Felthugh. It''s good to meet you."


    "Thank you." Alyn noticed Miervaldis did not give his own first name.


    "Ah, Cathal, come and be seated." Alyn looked up and saw Lord Anstable, the friendly teacher of a few days ago. He seated himself opposite Miervaldis and Felthugh, facing her, but paid her no attention. The tables were filling up now, as lords and ladies left their conversations and drifted to their seats. To Alyn''s left, at the top of the hall, she could see the head table, where the Lord of Fifth Star Court and his invited friends were sitting. To her surprise, she saw the quiet teacher there. While still subdued, he seemed much happier than when he had been teaching.


    A gong rang; she jumped, and looked back to her right, to the doors. The Chamberlain was standing by it, along with the First Sage, who raised his arms as silence fell.


    "The gods grant us nourishment, the gods grant us pleasure of conversation and of food. All praise to the gods!"


    "All praise," said the assembled company in ragged chorus. Alyn joined in dutifully, feeling, as she always did, that it was a bit unfair not to thank the cooks who after all had laboured over the gods'' bounty to make it into the feast it now was. The lords and ladies started helping themselves to the appetisers as the servers came into the hall bearing trays of soup, and small pastries which she later learned were cheese and sparrow pies. Although she knew the forms and her duties, it hadn''t occurred to her until now that of course she wouldn''t be eating.


    Her stomach rumbled quietly, and she watched the food go by.


    It wasn''t as bad as all that, in the end. She copied the older boy, Lord Felthugh''s page, who sneaked food from the servers as they came by on their way back to the kitchen. They were obviously used to this, holding the trays with appropriate food on low so the smaller pages could get to them. There was no chance to have soup, or the roast venison that smelled so good, or the stuffed partridges, but she managed a couple of tiny pies, a slice of peppered ham, and a chunk of bread that had found its way onto a tray of empty soup bowls. It kept her going, even as she mourned the delicious scents that were unavailable. However the food, tantalising as it was, turned out to be a distraction from what she could hear. Standing behind her lord, she could actually make out relatively little of what he said, but what the others said, in particular the jovial Lord Anstable and the loud-voiced Lord Felthugh, proved interesting. She also heard murmurs from the other tables in the infrequent pauses, and some of those proved more interesting still.


    "... not here again. Just like last night."


    "He''s a young man, Minica. He''s probably out on the town."


    "Ah, poor Reyhana...." The name made Alyn prick up her ears. Did they mean Lord Isidor? Was he often out, then? But she caught no more of that because at that point Lord Felthugh plunked his mug down and addressed Miervaldis.


    "So, my dear man, do tell me everything! I want to know all the details." Alyn winced, and saw people all around turning to look at her lord, some surreptitiously, some with open curiosity.


    "... sent by the Sun Court, you know..." She looked round, but couldn''t see who had murmured the phrase. Miervaldis cleared his throat.


    "What can I say?" he said lightly. "What roles do you have marked out for me?" There was a general titter, and Lord Anstable leant forward.


    "Come now, man, we know whose coach brought you here."


    "Well, then, I came to visit this gracious Court at the behest of the Sun Emperor, that''s true. But he gave me no orders, no instructions." There were more mutters, more murmuring.


    "... in the Moon Court, they have a name for him..."


    ".... the Emperor''s hound?"


    "You''re investigating quite thoroughly for someone who''s not been ordered to." This carping comment came from an elegantly-dressed man; Alyn recognised him as Lord Ronoy, her first teacher, wearing an unpleasant smile. She must have missed him before. Miervaldis declined to comment, just sipped his water and smiled. Alyn noticed he had not touched the ale or the wine.


    "What will you do when you find out who did it?" That came from a younger lady, eyes alight with curiosity and some malice, although not, Alyn thought, directed at her lord.


    "My lady, it''s not my job to capture criminals. It''s not my duty to pronounce judgement; sadly, justice is not within my remit. That all belongs to the Emperor. I am here only as an interested observer, an outsider. I will be telling the Emperor what I learn, should he ask. I won''t be doing anything else."


    There was a general turning away at that, and some muttering. Alyn couldn''t tell if any of them believed his words, or if they didn''t want to hear more, or if they just lost interest. Miervaldis breathed a little easier, although Lords Felthugh and Anstable hadn''t finished with him. Each had his own theory, both highly improbable to Alyn''s mind. She did notice, though, that while he discussed their suggestions, voice grave and betraying no amusement or exasperation, he looked a lot more relaxed than he had during the earlier interrogation. She concentrated on other conversations as best she could, although Felthugh''s loud voice kept putting her off.


    "I don''t believe it. They just don''t want Cassian..."


    "Nasty little man."


    "... still, I don''t approve, Evardo!"


    "But, mother!"


    "... one of the others. That''s who did it. One of the other scribes." Alyn wondered how likely that was.


    "He wasn''t liked, for sure."


    "Talk to Aethan about that! He''s overjoyed...."


    She only had to serve her lord once; he made the gesture and she slipped forwards and bowed.


    "Water, please," he said, and handed her a jug, which was a breach of etiquette but no-one seemed to mind. She bobbed again and set off in search of a servitor, who filled the jug for her and sneaked her a bit of crumbed pork on the side. As she placed the jug in front of her lord, with some difficulty because it was heavy and unwieldy, she wondered what she''d missed hearing. The conversations from before nagged at her mind. Who was Aethan, and why would he be overjoyed, and at what? Or was she just grasping at straws?


    Eventually the servers cleared up the last dishes, and people began to leave. Those at the top table, served first, had long gone. Miervaldis was also among the first to go, and she fell in behind him gratefully as he strode the length of the hall. A few whispers trailed them out.


    "... his page?"


    "... still don''t like it..."


    After all that, the corridor was blessedly quiet. Miervaldis stopped by the turn to the kitchens.


    "You should go and get some food," he said. "Bring it back to the room."


    "Oh - thank you!" Alyn was surprised. She hadn''t expected him to be so thoughtful. He turned away and she hurried down to the kitchen, which was still emitting those lovely scents that had tantalised her during the meal.


    Back at the room, the door was locked, so she knocked, balancing her tray on one arm. As Miervaldis opened the door for her, she noticed he''d shoved his carbon stick into his pocket again and mentally cringed at the damage to the rich red waistcoat. The heavy book that he''d been reading in the carriage lay on the little table in the main room; she put the tray down beside it.


    "So what did you make of all that?"


    "There were a lot of questions. Very open ones." He frowned, not at her.


    "Yes, there were. And plenty of speculation. Did you hear anything specific?"


    "I don''t know. I don''t think so. Except - someone said something about it being one of the other scribes, and then somebody else said Jaquan had not been well-liked - at least, I think it was all the same conversation. Someone else said that Aethan was overjoyed. I didn''t hear anything else, I''m sorry." She thought it was better to keep the ''Emperor''s hound" comment to herself.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "That''s quite vague - well, perhaps we can find this Aethan. You never know." Alyn took a bite of the roast venison - only warm now, but still delicious, and chewed, and remembered the afternoon meal. She swallowed.


    "Oh yes, and something happened at lunchtime with Lord Isidor and Pyrrhus."


    "Your friend the page, yes. Go on."


    "We were in the refectory, and Lord Isidor came in. He smiled and chatted a bit to Pyrrhus, and when he''d gone, Pyrrhus asked me if I knew him, so I said we spoke to him yesterday. Pyrrhus said was he a suspect, and I said we didn''t know, that he wouldn''t say anything."


    Miervaldis turned on his heel and walked over to the window. Confused, Alyn stared after him, her story broken in the middle. He waved a hand at her, which she interpreted as permission to go on.


    "Um, well, it was just that he got really angry. I said it was stupid, not defending himself, and he said I had no idea of what''s going on. I just thought it was odd..." she tailed off. Miervaldis was still standing with his back to her, and he looked tense. After a long pause, he turned round, wearing an odd expression on his face.


    "Alyn. Please don''t talk about our enquiries any more than you have to." The mild rebuke stung, much more than she thought it should have.


    "I''m sorry," she said. "I didn''t think it mattered if Pyrrhus knew Lord Isidor didn''t say anything..."


    Miervaldis looked away and sighed.


    "It''s not necessarily Pyrrhus knowing that Lord Isidor didn''t tell us anything. It''s people knowing that Lord Isidor isn''t claiming an alibi. It''s other people knowing that we have no leads at the moment. It''s other people finding out how we''re working, what we''re working on."


    "But I only told Pyrrhus," she protested weakly.


    "And anyone else in earshot. You were in the refectory, right? Weren''t there people around you?" Alyn said nothing, remembering the server banging her ladle. She''d certainly been close enough to hear, if she''d been there for the conversation. Miervaldis continued, "It''s also people Pyrrhus might talk to. His lord. His friends. Information travels very fast, and somewhere in this court there''s someone who committed murder, and who''s trying to hide what they''ve done and why. That person will be desperate to know what''s going on, how much we¡¯ve discovered. I don''t want them handed a helpful scapegoat."


    "I''m sorry," Alyn said again, miserably. She hadn''t thought about all that, hadn''t realised how gossip about what she had said and done had had such potential for spreading and complicating everything. Miervaldis walked past her to the chair and sat down.


    "Get some sleep," he said. "Tomorrow will be another day."


    Alyn obeyed, not looking at him.


    She woke to the soft touch of light through the curtains, and for a minute she stretched in peace before memory returned of what she''d done wrong the day before. She curled in on herself, miserable again. Outside she heard the gentle thud of the heavy breakfast tray being laid on the table, and the clink of glasses as the maid poured water for them both. Then she heard her lord''s footsteps as he walked the maid to the door and turned the key in the lock after her. She shut her eyes and pushed her head into the pillow, wanting to return to the place where it didn''t matter.


    "Alyn?"


    She tried to ignore the voice, and the gentle tapping at the door, but when he called again it felt worse to refuse to reply. Wishing she was genuinely asleep, she called back:


    "Yes, my lord?"


    "Breakfast is here. I want to talk to the scribes again, and I''d like you to come with me."


    "Yes, my lord." She got up and dressed, resolving to keep her mouth shut from now on. It would be safer that way.


    The scribes had resumed their work in a new room, the Chamberlain informed them. Lord Cassian had protested most strongly against the locking of his study, but when that had not regained his room for him, he had reluctantly agreed to let them work elsewhere. Alyn remembered the empty desks in the study when she had gone to make the catalogue; the move must have been shortly after the murder. Lord Cassian was clearly a hard taskmaster.


    The room was halfway across the court from Lord Cassian''s other rooms, and although Alyn decided it had to be her imagination, she did think the scribes looked happier and more relaxed, although the atmosphere remained one of hard work and intense concentration. The scribes looked up when they entered, and did not seem as nervous and jumpy as they had when they were last questioned.


    "My apologies for interrupting your working day," Miervaldis said. The scribe nearest the door shook his head.


    "It''s no problem, my lord," he said. He''d been the one to speak at the funeral, Alyn remembered. He seemed to act as a spokesperson; the other scribes nodded in agreement with his words.


    "Might I ask a few more questions?"


    "Please do."


    "Thank you. First, how are your duties divided up? Do you all share out the work, or do you have specific remits?"


    "It''s a mix, my lord. I work on the financial records of the estate, mainly, and Gryce works on the administration of Lord Cassian''s affairs, for example. But we all share work as well, particularly the urgent work."


    "And what about Jaquan? What were his duties?"


    "Jaquan worked on the employment records, both for Lord Cassian''s servants here and those at his estate. Roydon will be taking that on, when we get the records." The furthest scribe, who had black hair and a squint, ducked his head in agreement.


    "I see. So you wouldn''t be familiar with the servants'' records?"


    "Well, no, my lord. I''m sorry. If you have a specific query, it''s possible one of us may be able to help, though."


    Miervaldis nodded thoughtfully.


    "Do you have much to do with Lord Cassian''s servants here?"


    "We see them regularly, although they don''t usually talk much. Obviously now we see them much less."


    "Did you know any servants who left about two years ago?"


    The main scribe shook his head dubiously, but the other one, whose name was Gryce, Alyn thought, piped up.


    "I think I remember one, my lord. A girl, one of the maids."


    "Do you remember her name?"


    "No, my lord. I never knew her well. She was only here a short time."


    "Do you know why she left?"


    "I don''t, my lord. I''m sorry." But Alyn thought Gryce looked a bit shifty, as though that last was a lie.


    "Is there a high rate of turnover in Lord Cassian''s employment?"


    "No, my lord. Well, not overly high." Alyn thought that was a lie too, judging from the way all three scribes suddenly found their pens of extreme interest and from the sheer number of employment and dismissal notices she remembered cataloguing.


    "How are servants recruited?"


    "We have a lot of people applying for employment at the court, my lord."


    "Lord Cassian chooses from among them?"


    "He does, as do the other lords."


    "I see. And are the records copied anywhere?"


    "No, my lord. There''s just the one copy, but they''re well looked after."


    Miervaldis nodded.


    "Thank you for your time," he said formally. "I won''t take up any more." Alyn followed him out of the door, thinking over what had been said, and what hadn''t. She didn''t pay any attention to their route, so when he came to a stop by a small door in a relatively unadorned corridor, she didn''t realise at first where she was. He knocked, and a maid came to answer the door.


    "Yes, my lord?"


    "Is Ythilda here?"


    "She is, my lord." The maid retreated into what Alyn realised must be the housekeeper''s headquarters. A moment later Ythilda came out.


    "My lord?"


    "I''m sorry to interrupt you again. I wanted to ask if you knew a girl called Liliya, who served Lord Cassian?"


    "I did, my lord." Ythilda had a funny expression on her face.


    "Did you know her well? Do you know her surname?"


    "No, my lord, I don''t remember. I knew her to talk to, but not well."


    "The choice of employment is up to the lords, is that right?"


    "It is, my lord. The Court employs many of those not specifically chosen." She smoothed her skirt; Alyn realised that included her. Was it considered a less good choice?


    "Was Liliya happy working for Lord Cassian?"


    Ythilda hesitated, then looked aside.


    "She was not. She didn''t want to work for him, right from the start."


    "From the start?"


    "She was very upset when he chose her, my lord. She kept saying it wasn''t supposed to be him."


    "What did she mean by that?"


    "She never explained. I didn''t speak to her much, like I said."


    "How long did she serve?"


    "Almost six months."


    "Is that normal, that short a term of service?"


    "No, my lord, not at all. Not even for him."


    Miervaldis paused for a moment, and glanced up and down the corridor.


    "This is possibly a personal question, Ythilda, but do you know why Liliya left?"


    "She was ill, my lord." The maid''s face, normally expressive and mobile, was quite blank. Alyn got the distinct impression that ''ill'' for servants had a similar meaning to ''falling down stairs'' for pages.


    "You don''t know anything about the illness?"


    "No, my lord."


    "Or where she went to recover?"


    "No, my lord."


    "Did she recover?"


    "I don''t know, my lord." Still the same carefully neutral expression. Miervaldis sighed, just audibly.


    "Thank you, Ythilda."


    "My lord." The girl bobbed a curtsey and retreated, closing the door behind her. He stared at it for a minute, then turned away. Alyn trotted along in his wake, judging from the way he walked that he was annoyed. Something had happened to Liliya, and from the questions she guessed he thought it was Lord Cassian''s fault. Remembering what the unpleasant lord had said of her, Alyn repressed a shiver. She didn''t blame Liliya one bit for not wanting to serve such a man. She must have heard about him from the other servants, the poor girl.


    When they reached the room, it was too late for Alyn to go to lessons and too early for lunch. Miervaldis seated himself with his book and carbon stick, but made no notes, looking out of the window thoughtfully instead. Alyn tried to read the book she''d started a few days ago but didn''t get anywhere with it. She had no idea what they were going to do, no idea who might have done the murder, no idea why it had been done. There was only the missing document, which seemed to be a very fragile thread to hang a theory on. Across from her, Miervaldis sighed and shut the book.


    "Do you fancy a visit to Ellmore?"


    "My lord?"


    "I think a change of scene would be good. It might help us think a bit more clearly. We can borrow a coach from the court stables and see the town, and have lunch there. You''d better change, though. Wear something that''s not, ah, something that doesn''t make you look like a page."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said obediently and stood up, putting the book down. He watched her for a second, then turned to the door, a funny expression on his face.


    The stablehands were happy to prepare a coach for her lord, although a bit disconcerted that he''d just turned up without sending his page on so they could have it ready for him. They didn''t raise any eyebrows at her casual clothes. Miervaldis stood cheerfully by the stable block and chatted to one of the grooms not harnessing the chosen mare to the little carriage. A bay horse stuck his head out of the stall and nosed the groom in the back; he moved over to rub the smooth neck. Miervaldis stroked the long nose, and the horse drooled on him happily. Watching her lord, Alyn noticed that Isidor''s chestnut was not in his stall. Was he out again? Or just in a different stall? The question was answered a moment later as the same bright chestnut came trotting into the stableyard, tossing his head and jinking sideways in pretend alarm at the carriage. The mare in the traces barely reacted, just flicked an ear at the showy antics. Lord Isidor swung down and caught the reins as his horse danced away. The groom who''d been talking to Miervaldis excused himself and came forwards.


    "Shall I take him, Lord Isidor?"


    "No, I''ll do him, but thanks."


    The groom retired, bobbing his head. Alyn got the distinct impression that it was quite normal for the young lord to look after his own horse, and remembered the groom saying before that Lord Isidor normally got his own mount ready. The chestnut sidled and played as he was led to his stall.


    "Needs more exercise," said the groom. Isidor smiled over his shoulder.


    "I''ll take him to Cathecassa later, don''t worry. He won''t be kicking the door down in the middle of the night again." He led the horse inside and shut the door; a minute later there was a clang and a splash, and the groom winced.


    "That was the bucket," he said. Miervaldis laughed.


    "A spirited animal," he observed.


    "Yes, my lord, the best in the stables, I reckon. Knows his horses, Lord Isidor does."


    "Where does he normally take the horse? Cathecassa, was it?"


    "Lord Cassian''s holdings, my lord. Goes to visit the lady and her daughter. It''s about ten miles away, so not too far, although a fair journey there and back."


    ¡°He goes often?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, my lord. Once a week or so, maybe. He don¡¯t always say.¡±


    "He doesn''t stay overnight?"


    "He might do, my lord. I don''t know."


    Miervaldis fell silent. Bangs came from the chestnut''s stall, coupled with a string of murmured endearments occasionally punctuated by curses. Isidor was clearly fond of his horse.


    "Ready, my lord! Sorry for the wait."


    Alyn followed Miervaldis to the carriage, but it was very small. The groom frowned at them.


    "My lord, do you need a driver?"


    "My page will drive," said Miervaldis cheerfully. Alyn stared at him in surprise. She had driven carts before, but never something like this and anyway, how could he know she''d done it? He winked at her, and gestured her to the driver''s position; she climbed up and perched on the small seat. The groom handed her the reins and a long whip with a barely concealed look of disapproval.


    "This is Cinnamon," he said. "She''s a good mare, won''t pull too hard and is obedient. You look after her, all right?"


    "Yes sir," Alyn said, feeling cowed. Then, on impulse, she handed the reins back to him, scrambled down and went to the horse''s head. The groom holding the mare''s reins watched her as she stroked Cinnamon''s nose and patted her neck. Feeling a little better, she went back to the driver''s seat and clambered back up again. The other groom handed her the reins and whip with, she thought, a little more approval. The grooms stepped back, she gathered the reins in, and touched the whip to the mare''s back. Cinnamon flicked her head up and stepped forward, pulling smoothly, and the carriage rumbled along after. They were already going in the right direction, so Alyn let the mare walk forwards through the archway and out of the court.


    The road she remembered walking down in the late afternoon was a lot easier in a carriage. Like the road from Fourth Star Court, it was lined with tall, gracious trees, and the dappled sunlight made pretty patterns on the mare''s back. After a few minutes, Miervaldis coughed.


    "My apologies for jumping that on you," he said. "I didn''t want a stranger along."


    "What would you have done if I hadn''t known how to drive?" Alyn asked, forgetting she had decided not to say anything unless directly asked.


    "I can drive," he said. "And I thought you had the necessary intelligence to at least get us out of the court before I took the reins." Alyn blinked at the casual compliment.


    "Would you like to drive, my lord? I mean, I have driven carts, but this is quite different..."


    "I''d be happy to." The mare plodded onwards at a gentle pace. She flicked her ears as Miervaldis came forwards, altering the balance of the little carriage. He took the reins and Alyn retired to sit at the back as he encouraged the mare and the carriage sped up a little, swaying slightly at the increased pace. He held the mare to a trot, and she seemed quite happy to maintain that all the way to the town.


    Just before Ellmore, Miervaldis relinquished the reins to Alyn again and Cinnamon immediately slowed down. She''d obviously worked out what she could get away with. Alyn guided her to the nearest horseyard, which appeared to be attached to a tavern; a groom came out and she gave him a coin from Miervaldis to pay for the mare''s care until they returned. Her lord looked more cheerful by the minute as they walked into town, moving casually through the crowds. He didn''t give the appearance of aiming for anywhere, but as they approached a market square Alyn got the distinct impression it was where he''d wanted to go.


    "This looks good," he observed as they neared a stand selling sausages and rolls. "Will you buy one for me, and for yourself as well, of course."


    "Yes, my lord," she said obediently, took the money and went to the stall. Waiting in the queue, she looked over her shoulder and saw that he blended in quite well - clearly a rich man, but not obviously noble. Had he planned that, or did he usually dress down? She hadn''t thought the clothes anything unusual before. Well, not unusual for him, anyway. The queue moved forwards and she reached the front. The stall was quite large; at the back there was a bank of glowing coals with sausages on spits and also a joint. Nearer the front was an array of bread which one of the men was cutting into rough slabs. A board at the side held cheeses.


    "What would you like?"


    "Oh - two sausages and bread, please." The man turned and repeated the order to his colleague, although she hadn''t spoken quietly.


    "Anything to drink?"


    "Yes please. Um, what do you have?"


    "Water and ale."


    "Then... one of each, please." He nodded and held out his hand, and she gave him the coins. The scent of the sausages made her stomach rumble, even though it could hardly be noon. The other man stopped carving bread and reached for one of the spits holding sausages.


    "I think you have the wrong person," she heard from behind her. It was Miervaldis'' voice, deliberately pitched loud. She turned, and saw him facing a short man with a shock of dark hair. The man had his back to her, so she couldn''t see his face, but he didn''t look familiar from behind. The man at the stall tapped her on the shoulder; she turned back to him and he presented her with two sausages wrapped in buns. Two earthenware mugs stood on the counter.


    "Ah - " she started, unsure of what to do; even without the quarrel, she couldn''t carry everything.


    "You leave my sister out of this, you hear?"


    "I have no idea who you are, nor who your sister is. Please leave." Miervaldis'' voice was icy cold, and it made Alyn shiver. The crowds gathering around the impending fight shied back, and the man facing her lord shook his head like a dog shaking off water. Then a voice came from the crowd.


    "Neirin, you have the wrong person." A small girl wriggled through the throng and jumped out to stand in front of the black-haired man. She put her hands on her hips and scowled up at him. "Don''t be stupid. What would a lord be coming down here for?"


    "Looks like him," Neirin muttered. To one side, Miervaldis visibly rolled his eyes and shrugged theatrically; a smatter of laughter trickled across the crowd. It disarmed the situation, and when the girl took Neirin''s hand and tugged, he followed her away, casting a black look over his shoulder.


    "You with him?" the stallholder asked. Alyn jumped.


    "Oh, uh, yes. We''re visiting for the day."


    "Sorry about that. Neirin''s very protective of his sisters, you see. Takes anything as an insult." Alyn smiled and nodded, and gathered the bread-and-sausages, not understanding how her lord could have offered insult to Neirin''s sister.


    "Here," she said, leaving off the salutation. Miervaldis smiled at her and took the food while she fetched the drinks; they found a place to sit by the fountain that stood in the centre of the court. For a while they just ate, not wanting to let the food get cold.


    "Ah!" Miervaldis said suddenly.


    "My - I mean, sorry, what is it?" Alyn swallowed the last of her sausage.


    "I thought I recognised him. He''s one of the porters at the Court."


    "Really?" Alyn hadn''t noticed him at all.


    "Yes. So it''s not surprising he knows what I look like. And did you see, that little girl who pulled him away?"


    "Yes..."


    "She looked a lot like Brenna. I wonder, what insult have I offered his sister?" He chewed thoughtfully, but Alyn had nothing to suggest. She finished her drink and kicked the stones, wondering how it all fitted in.

 Chapter 7

    Alyn didn''t go to the lesson that afternoon, either. On the way back from town, Miervaldis told her he wanted her to look into the servants'' records, both Lord Cassian''s, if possible, and the court''s, to see if there were any details of Liliya''s last name, and if she had had other connections to the court.


    "I suppose Brenna might know her surname," he mused, as the mare trotted up the road and the carriage jolted along behind. "But last names often aren''t bothered with except for official documents. The scribes might have her recruitment documents, of course..." Alyn hadn''t thought about that, but realised it was true. It was probable that Liliya didn''t have a true surname, and just took her father''s name. Alyn''s own surname was derived from such a construction, although it was several generations old by now, lending it a bit more respectability, if not as much as a truly ancient, high class surname like her lord''s. The late afternoon sun slanted through the trees and striped the carriage; the stripes flickered as it moved, making an hypnotic pattern which made it a bit hard to think straight. But she did remember that Ythilda had said Liliya had objected to being in Lord Cassian''s employment, which must mean she had known a bit about him before. Where could she have found that out? Or was it common gossip in the town as well as Fifth Star Court?


    When they reached the Court, Miervaldis had her drive into the stableyard, and the grooms came out to meet them and take the mare away. Alyn patted Cinnamon''s neck in thanks as they unharnessed her, then trotted after her lord, who was walking fast, deep in thought. He hadn''t said anything since his instruction to check out the records. She accompanied him back to the rooms, then formally asked his permission to do the research he had asked of her. He didn''t even look surprised at the phrasing, just nodded wearily and tipped his head back in the chair, eyes closed. Alyn left, shutting the door quietly behind her. For all his apparent tiredness, though, she heard the lock click before she had gone three steps.


    She went to Lord Cassian''s scribes first, and asked them for records of servant employment and discipline for the last twenty years, hoping that would be enough. Roydon looked extremely dubious at the request.


    "I don''t know, my, uh, sorry." He fumbled the attempt at an honorific, and hurried on to cover up the mistake. "I''ve only just taken on the records, you see..."


    "If you tell me what you''re looking for," offered the senior scribe from across the room, "I might be able to help you." The offer seemed sincere, but Alyn felt uneasy at the idea of mentioning names, given how reticent her lord had been about it when they had spoken to the scribes before. On the other side of the room, the third scribe, Gryce, was clearly listening in. For all she knew, one of these men had killed Jaquan. She shook her head.


    "We''re looking for all the records, but thank you for the offer," she said. "If you find them, please do let me know."


    "Oh, but -" Roydon''s attempt to call her back met only a closing door. Alyn pulled it shut behind her and stood still for a moment, wondering what to do. If she could find Lord Cassian''s records, what would she look for? Liliya''s first record of employment, as Miervaldis had suggested? That should definitely be there, and it ought to have her full name. What else was there to look for? Liliya had likely not been in service before her first application, so presumably any connection she had with the Court would have been through a relative - an older sibling, or a parent, although there was no guarantee that the putative relative would also have served Lord Cassian. Liliya''s last name might be useful in uncovering a connection, if she could find it out without giving any more away. Alyn frowned. Was there any way to do that? Maybe Brenna did know, after all.


    Well, there was one place left to look before asking the surly maid. She turned to the north corridor, and made her way to the offices of the Chroniclers.


    The head Chronicler acted just as he had before, peering over his monocle at her from a great height. His fluffy white hair caught the light from the big windows inside the office and made it into an indistinct halo. He didn''t seem to recognise her, and when she presented her request to look through the servants'' employment records, he summoned the same assistant Chronicler who had helped her before.


    "What would you like to find this time?" he asked, and Alyn was relieved to realise he at least remembered her.


    "I''m looking for records on servants," she said.


    "Lord Cassian''s?"


    "You have them?" She was surprised. She had thought Lord Cassian kept his own records and no-one else had any.


    "Oh yes. Well, they''re not full records, of course. Anything financial or disciplinary between a lord and his servants, that''s his business. But we have the records of employment, because the servants work here at the Court. Oh," he paused, looking concerned, "if you want to find out about one of his servants at his estate..."


    "Oh no," Alyn said quickly. "The ones you said would be great, thank you. And... for the Court too?"


    "What, all of them?"


    "Um, just back twenty years."


    He nodded, and headed for the book stacks. Alyn trailed after him, relieved at the relative lack of glue fumes. Maybe today just wasn''t a binding day. The Chronicler pulled over a tall, spindly-looking staircase which trundled shakily on tiny wheels, stationed it by one of the shelves, and went up it, seemingly oblivious to its creaks, groans and wobbles. Alyn watched, open-mouthed, as he reached out from the tiny top platform to pull books off shelves and examine them, balancing precariously with one leg on the ladder platform and one on a conveniently positioned shelf, which looked considerably more solid than the ladder. Four times he came down with an armful to deposit on a table before heading back up again; the fifth time, he repositioned the staircase before ascending again. That was the last, apparently; he beckoned her over to the table and the piles of books there.


    "These are the Court records for the past twenty years," he said, waving his hand to the two biggest piles. The records had been bound into leather-covered volumes with the dates stamped on them in black ink. "And these are the records for the hire of servants by lords here." That was the smaller pile, although "smaller" in this case still meant more than ten books. Alyn winced internally.


    "Thank you," she said, and picked up the first of the lords'' records. The Chronicler watched her for a moment, then went off and came back a moment later with a chair, which he pushed towards her a little diffidently.


    "Thank you," she said again, with more feeling, and he smiled.


    "Let me know if you need anything else," he said, but he hurried away before she could say she''d like a pen and some paper, so she turned her attention to the books instead.


    For a long time, she didn''t find anything. They were recent records, and just looked like the enormous catalogue she''d already ploughed through. She actually found herself nodding off just over halfway through the book, and shook her head, dazed. Then, looking at the record she''d almost fallen asleep on, the date caught her eye. 1320, it said. Less than a year before Liliya''s dismissal. Six months, Ythilda had said. She looked closer to the page, finding her sleepiness had gone.


    After about ten more minutes of reading, she found what she was looking for. It had been somewhat truncated, but gave a list of names of servants accepted into the service of various Lords and of the Court that hiring day. Halfway down the list, it said:


    Lord Cassian Tabea Grigor''s daughter


    " " " Liliya Silvi''s daughter


    So he had hired just two servants that time, both girls. The names were interesting, though. As she had expected, Tabea''s surname was taken directly from her father''s name. But Liliya used her mother''s name, typically an indication of a child whose father did not want to claim her. Was that at all significant? Probably not, Alyn thought. But it did mean that she might be able to find a connection with the Court through her mother, Silvi. If Silvi or one of her children had served in the Court, and if Alyn could find her records. She looked over at the huge pile of books of Court records, and winced.


    In the end, despite spending hours hunched over the records, she didn''t find anything further about Liliya or Silvi. Those hours had only scratched the surface of the records, and she despaired of finding anything if she had to look through all of them, although at least the Court records also had details of the lords'' servants. She had worried, for a while, about having to go to each lord''s personal scribes and ask for permission to root through their papers, which would not have gone down well. The one thing that did catch her eye, totally unexpectedly, was another brief notation on servants being hired. It said:


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Lord Anstable Aethan Fedric''s son</h1>


    For a moment, she couldn''t remember why the name was familiar, and then the partially overheard conversation from the banquet the night before came to mind. Aethan, apparently, had been overjoyed that Jaquan was dead. Surely that was important? She made a mental note of the date and his lord''s name - the jovial teacher who had sat by her lord at the banquet - and shut the book. Standing up made her feel slightly faint, and she clutched at the table for a moment to regain her balance before making her way back to the head Chronicler. Both he and the assistant seemed a little surprised that she was there when she thanked them. She made her way slowly to the rooms, feeling absolutely exhausted.


    To her relief, when she arrived, Miervaldis had had dinner brought up already. He considerately gave her time to eat, and only asked after the records once she had finished.


    "There were... a lot of them, my lord. I didn''t see Lord Cassian''s, because the scribes wanted to know what I was looking for, and I didn''t want to tell them any names." He gave her a slight nod. "So I went to the Chroniclers, and they said they had records of everyone being hired, although not the private things between a lord and a servant, like money and discipline. I had a look through some of the records, and I found Liliya''s entry." She paused to take a drink. Miervaldis sat forwards, looking intent, but didn''t interrupt. "Her last name was recorded as ¡®Silvi''s daughter¡¯," Alyn went on. "But I couldn''t find anything else about Liliya or Silvi. But there were so many records, it must be in there somewhere..."


    "That''s as may be," Miervaldis said. "Well done; finding her name is more than I''d hoped for. That will prove useful. Oh, and by the way, this came today." He smiled, and handed her an envelope. There were a couple of heavy sheets inside, a bit crumpled, but the seal was intact. It bore the insignia of a lord of Eighth Star Court and the address on the front was only barely legible, scrawled in a clumsy and uncaring hand.


    "Byran wrote!" she said, surprised.


    "Your brother? I thought it might be. Let me know what he says about the funerals."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said, and took the envelope to the fireside to read it in better light.


    Dear Alyn, she read. The letters were indeed clumsy, but more legible than they had been last time she''d tried to read one of his letters.


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">I hope you''re well, and doing all right with your studies. I heard you had gone to Fifth Star Court because some servant had died. What''s that got to do with you?</h1>


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Anyway, I don''t know why you''re asking, but I did look up the funeral records for you.I found nine funerals that were held at this Court on Holy days over the past five years. They were:</h1>


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Lord Salamin Othniel (Sage''s Day, 1322)</h1>


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Lady Anyelle Tyris (First Emperor''s Birthday 1322)</h1>


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Lord Premysl Ordinson (Spring Star Day, 1321)</h1>


    Lady Isra Cherevsdotter (Founder''s Day, 1320)


    Lady Geerta Angenamen (Sage''s Day, 1320)


    Lord Alystyr Kemenssen (Harvest Week Holy Day, 1320)


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Lord Andry Sachair (First Emperor''s Wedding, 1319)</h1>


    Lord Idony Berinhard (Sun Ascension Day, 1319)


    Lady Aintza Felthisdotter (Founder''s Day, 1319)


    I hope those are useful for you.


    At this point, the letter bore several smudges and had been somewhat crumpled. There was writing beneath the smudges, but she couldn''t make it out. The next page was more neatly written, as though Byran had taken the time to think about what he was saying.


    Alyn, it went on, I have to write this. You must be careful serving your lord. Remember who your first oath is to. I can''t say anything, of course, and nothing is known, but Lord Miervaldis does not have a good name around here. Nobody will tell me anything specific, but when I talked about who you were serving, there were comments. Please be careful. If he is doing anything, <u>don''t get involved.</u> Nobody will blame you for dutiful service, but please don''t do any more than that. There must be someone you can talk to if you are concerned about him or his orders, even when you''re not at your own Court.


    Take every care,


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">Byran</h1>


    Alyn folded the letter over quickly to hide the contents, then glanced behind her, heart thumping. Miervaldis was still seated by the table, regarding the remains of dinner thoughtfully. He couldn''t have read the letter from here, surely? He couldn''t tell what she had read? She turned back to the fire, forcing herself to move naturally, and looked at the first page again, at the names she had scanned through. Was there anything?


    Yes, there was. The last lord''s name on the list, Lord Idony Berinhard. That was the same surname as Pyrrhus. A brother? A father?


    She started to say something, then hastily shoved the second page down her tunic, where it sat scratchily against her skin.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "My lord," she managed, hoping he''d mistake the nervousness for excitement.


    "What is it? Was there something in what your brother wrote?"


    "I don''t know, my lord. But one of the men who had a funeral on a Holy day might have been related to Pyrrhus. Lord Idony Berinhard."


    Miervaldis, halfway towards her, froze, his eyes wide.


    "Pyrrhus'' surname is Berinhard?"


    "Yes... my lord?"


    "Ah, now that explains a lot! If I''m right, that is. Hmmm, yes. That would make sense!"


    "My lord?"


    "I''m sorry." He came over to the fireplace and sat down. "It was quite infamous at the time, but that was almost five years ago. You probably weren''t interested, or didn''t get to hear. Lord Idony Berinhard was killed in a duel, and it was Lord Cassian who was his opponent."


    He killed a man in a duel once, Bensen had said of Lord Cassian. Five years ago, Pyrrhus would have been nine. Alyn winced in sympathy.


    "I thought duelling to the death was illegal now, my lord?"


    "It is. Lord Cassian claimed an accident, and the Sun Court eventually ruled that it was so. But of course, people always rumour otherwise." Alyn felt stupid. If only she''d told her lord Pyrrhus'' surname before, she wouldn''t have spent so long over this. She wouldn''t have written to Byran, and... she wouldn''t feel so horribly conflicted over the other things he''d written. She hugged herself tightly, disliking the tense, knotted feeling in the pit of her stomach. Miervaldis, thankfully, didn''t seem to notice.


    "It''s a bit strange," he went on, "to have assigned Pyrrhus to the Court to which his father''s killer is beholden, of course, but this may be a motive..."


    "It can''t be Pyrrhus," Alyn objected, glad of the distraction. "He''s smaller than me, and skinny. He can''t have done anything to Jaquan."


    "Does he have siblings, do you know?"


    "Yes," Alyn said slowly, remembering that stiff, awkward conversation in the refectory. "He has an older brother, Kadir."


    "Well, that would explain why he was so reluctant to talk to you about his father''s funeral. He''s probably afraid his brother is involved."


    Alyn didn''t say anything. She was thinking about Pyrrhus, about his fear and his stubborn loyalty. She didn''t want it to be his brother. She looked up, to see her lord watching her, sympathy in his eyes.


    "Just because he''s worried about it doesn''t mean it''s true," he said gently. "But we have to find out."


    "I know." It came out half-squeaked. She stood up, knees trembling, and hurried to her room, shutting the door behind her and hoping that he''d take her sudden fear to be entirely due to Pyrrhus and his brother now being the main suspects. She sat heavily on the bed, turned up the lamp, and pulled out her brother''s second page.


    Lord Miervaldis does not have a good name around here.


    What did that mean? Why would the Emperor have asked him to investigate if this was the case? Or - she only had Miervaldis'' word that the Emperor had asked him. But it had been a Sun Court carriage that had come for them, to take them to Fifth Star Court, so surely that was proof? But thinking of that journey only reminded her how good he was at hiding what he really thought, and how cleverly he had found out so much about her with just a few questions. If his true allegiance was not... was not what it should be, it would be very easy for him to hide it from her.


    Unable to reconcile the evidence, she buried the letter at the bottom of her clothes chest, resealing it onto itself. She couldn''t hide it well enough, not in this room that wasn''t hers, in a strange Court, but at least she''d know if he read it. Then, unwilling to go outside and face him again even just to wash, she undressed and climbed into bed. It was a long and uncomfortable time before she fell asleep.


    In the morning, she had almost forgotten about the letter, and only remembered when she opened the door to the main room, dressed and ready for breakfast. Miervaldis was standing by the table where a maid was putting the tray down, and as he turned towards her she remembered, like a jolt, what her brother had said. She ducked her head and yawned sleepily, hoping her face hadn''t shown anything.


    Miervaldis didn''t speak until the maid had gone and they had both started eating.


    "You said you''d found those records at the Chronicler''s office, is that right?"


    "Yes, my lord."


    "I think I''ll have a look today. You can come with me, and show me the books before your lesson."


    "Yes, my lord." He looked a little miffed at her lack of an interesting response. Alyn shoved another piece of bread into her mouth as though she was very hungry.


    "Well, I''m hoping I''ll see something. Liliya Silvi''s daughter is an interesting lead to follow up, although we have an embarrassment of suspects right now." But his mention of the Chronicles had jogged something in Alyn''s brain.


    "There is something else, my lord," she said, relieved to have something innocent to contribute. He looked over, eyebrows raised.


    "Oh?" She swallowed.


    "It was when I was looking through the records. I found Aethan Fedric''s son was recruited to serve Lord Anstable. You sat opposite him at the banquet, my lord."


    "I remember."


    "At the banquet, I overheard someone saying that Aethan was relieved Jaquan was dead."


    "Really? Well, well.. I wonder why. What did Jaquan do to this Aethan?" He twisted his glass, watching the water swirl inside it. "Suddenly, we seem to be overburdened with possibilities. We''ve gone from one to, ooh, six, I think."


    "Six?"


    "Brenna''s lie to us needs explanation. Lord Isidor won''t tell us where he was that night. There''s this Aethan who was happy at Jaquan''s death. Pyrrhus'' brother Kadir has a motive, although we know nothing of his movements - he won''t be at this court, after all." That hadn''t occurred to Alyn. Of course, they wouldn''t send two brothers to the same place. She felt suddenly very relieved, although Byran''s letter still weighed on her mind. "The disappearance of Liliya''s records indicates she may have something to do with this, although that does seem very remote, I''ll admit," Miervaldis went on. "And of course, Lord Cassian himself remains a suspect." He smiled wryly. "Quite a lot to follow up. Perhaps I should start with one of the others. For now, though, I will investigate Liliya, and perhaps I''ll have a chance to look into Aethan as well. It will be harder to find out about Kadir, but if you get the chance, do ask Pyrrhus." He stood up. "Will you show me the Chronicler''s office, please?"


    Alyn led her lord along the corridors and down the stairs, around the gardens and halls, to the big room by the refectory where the Chroniclers worked. Once again, the head Chronicler failed to recognise her, although the assistant in the background waved over his master''s shoulder while the old scholar muttered a greeting. The assistant''s eyes became gratifyingly wide when Alyn introduced her lord; they were quickly shown to a very well furnished waiting area and the assistant hurried off to find records. Alyn, watching the assistant staggering to bring over the heavy books, found the contrast quite amusing.


    "You might as well go," Miervaldis said quietly. "I''ll be fine here, as you can see." He made a funny face, almost amused but a bit sad as well, Alyn thought, puzzled. She bowed and excused herself, making her way to the Garden of Seven Streams for the lesson.


    This morning, Lord Ronoy was teaching again, but he didn''t take the time to insult her specifically, which was a relief. The lesson was both complicated and dull, featuring the genealogies of several dynasties who had all descended from the royalty of this province before unification. It was not anything Alyn needed to know, but she concentrated because that meant she didn''t have to think about Byran''s letter, or about Miervaldis'' instruction to ask Pyrrhus about Kadir.


    If he says Kadir was somewhere else, she thought, glancing over at Pyrrhus'' thin, slouched figure, then it will all be all right. It will!


    <h1 style="line-height: 200%">But what if he was around at the time? What then?</h1>


    She didn''t get the chance to ask because Pyrrhus bolted as soon as the lesson was over, causing Lord Ronoy to raise a sarcastic eyebrow. Alyn didn''t bother chasing him. If he was running because of her, she''d never get anything out of him anyway. She slouched miserably back to the room, only to find Miervaldis was out, probably still looking at the records. She drifted to the refectory and helped herself to the food laid out there. Several of the other pages were seated around, along with some servants, sitting together on a separate table. She didn''t want to sit with either, so she picked a spot with plenty of empty space around it and sat down to eat.


    "Hey, what''s with the long face?" She looked up to see Bensen standing behind her, also bearing a tray. He bumped it down on the table and swung his legs over the bench to sit beside her. "You don''t mind, right?" he said, clearly not waiting for an answer. She shook her head, mute. He shrugged, and started eating.


    "There is something wrong, isn''t there?" he asked eventually. Alyn jumped. She''d been staring at her food, not eating and not really thinking either, and had all but forgotten he was there. He was looking at her sternly. "You shouldn''t forget to eat."


    The concept of forgetting to eat food in front of you made her giggle, and he nodded approvingly, taking another bite of the large pile of salad on his plate. "That''s better," he said around the mouthful, making her giggle again. He gave her a mock-affronted glare. "Food''s important. You mustn''t skip it. Now, what''s up? It''s not those pages again, is it?"


    "Oh, nothing really," she said, a little wary of his interest, but he just shrugged.


    "Have it your way. How''s the investigation going?"


    "We haven''t found the murderer yet," she said, straight-faced, and he poked her in the shoulder in reproof.


    "I know that!"


    "I can''t tell you details. They''re private."


    "Oh, I probably know them all anyway," he said airily, and Alyn wondered.


    "Ah, do you know Aethan?" she asked, as innocently as possible. He smirked at her.


    "I was wondering if you''d ask about him."


    "Why?"


    "Oh, he''s an obvious suspect."


    "He is?"


    Bensen nodded solemnly. He leaned in close to her, as though to confide a secret.


    "A year ago, poor old Aethan had a problem."


    "A problem?"


    "A problem." Bensen tapped his nose, and winked. "A real problem with, ah, the knackers."


    "The knackers?" Alyn felt like an echo. Bensen winked again.


    "He liked to visit the town girls, see. Anyway, it isn''t usually a big thing, you know. You go to the physicker, and he keeps quiet, and you take the medicine and it''s all fine. But Aethan, he made a mistake somewhere. I don''t know how, but Jaquan found out."


    "Jaquan..."


    "He made Aethan''s life miserable," said Bensen, and there was laughter in his voice. Alyn scowled.


    "You don''t seem very serious," she said reprovingly. Had Aethan killed Jaquan for this, whatever it all meant?


    "It''s not serious!" Bensen said. "It''s absolutely ridiculous! I think Jaquan probably asked Aethan for money, or something, but Aethan''s a tight old geezer and wouldn''t pay up, so Jaquan told everyone. Everyone! Poor Aethan, he suffered that season!"


    "He told them..."


    "Told them about the knackers. That''s all." He gave her an odd look; she felt like she''d missed something somewhere.


    "So Aethan could have..."


    "No." Bensen shook his head firmly.


    "But you said -"


    "I know he didn''t do it. Not just because it''s not like him, although Jaquan telling everyone did make him hopping mad. But because I was with him that evening, him and several other cooks and under-cooks and so on. We took him out for his birthday, and you can be sure we kept him away from those girls." He winked at her again. She was definitely missing something.


    "Well... thanks," she said, making a mental note to tell Miervaldis about it all. He''d probably understand.


    "You''re welcome." Bensen, who''d finished eating halfway through his narration, stood up from the table and picked up his tray. He gave her a wave as he headed through to the kitchen, and she smiled, feeling better.


    Pyrrhus did not come to the afternoon lesson, and it made Alyn feel guilty all over again. She wondered where he''d gone, what he was doing, but when she ventured a few tentative queries among the other pages after the lesson, they were met with unconcern or hostility. She made her way back to the rooms feeling quite down. Miervaldis, on the other hand, was clearly pleased with himself. He opened the door to her with a cheerful smile.


    "And how were the lessons?"


    "Fine," Alyn said in a monotone, going to sit by the fireplace. He locked the door behind her and came to join her.


    "I found Silvi in the records." That explained his mood, she thought.


    "Which records, my lord?"


    "The general Court records. She served as a maid about fifteen or so years ago, and left to have a child".


    "To have a child? Liliya?"


    "Presumably. Which, along with the lack of a paternal name, implies the father was someone in the court, someone she could not marry. I don''t know if that has any bearing, of course. But it''s still information. Did you find anything out from Pyrrhus?"


    "Not from Pyrrhus, my lord. He wouldn''t speak to me." Alyn looked down, feeling miserable again.


    "From whom, then?" He didn''t seem to notice her mood.


    "From Bensen. I''m afraid Aethan is a dead end. Apparently, um, he had a problem a while back. I don''t really get it, I''m sorry. Bensen said something about town girls and the, er, the knackers?"


    Miervaldis made a funny noise halfway between a cough and a snort. Concerned, Alyn looked up, but he had turned away, hiding his face. His shoulders were shaking.


    "My lord?"


    He turned back, a slightly odd expression on his face.


    "Go on, please."


    Confused, she continued.


    "Apparently, normally it''s easily curable by a physicker, but somehow Jaquan found out. He asked Aethan for money, but Aethan wouldn''t pay him so Jaquan told everyone and Bensen said it made his life miserable. Aethan''s, I mean."


    "But you said he was a dead end?"


    "Yes, my lord. He was out that evening, the evening Jaquan was killed, I mean. It was Aethan''s birthday, and Bensen was there and lots of other people too. So he can''t have done it. Although Bensen did say he was very angry."


    "I''m not surprised," Miervaldis said, and his voice shook slightly.


    "My lord...."


    "Yes?"


    "My lord, what is the knackers?"


    That appeared to be the last straw; Miervaldis bent over in his chair, laughing helplessly. Alyn, feeling left out of the joke, scowled at the top of his head. Eventually, he recovered and sat straight again.


    "I''m sorry, Alyn. It''s, ah, it''s a disease. A communicable disease often contracted by spending time with, um..." he tailed off, but by this time Alyn had realised what he meant, and felt her face grow hot.


    "I understand!" she blurted hastily, and he didn''t say any more. Thinking about it, she did understand why Aethan had been so angry. Jaquan really had not been a nice person. Not a nice person at all.


    "Well," Miervaldis said presently. "I have also arranged for us to visit Cathecassa tomorrow. I''m afraid you''ll have to skip lessons again."


    "I don''t mind, my lord!" Cathecassa? Cathecassa was Lord Cassian''s home estate. They would, presumably, get to meet his wife and daughter.


    "We''ll have to stay overnight. We''ll leave after breakfast. I''ve already spoken to the stablehands, but if you could sort out the luggage tomorrow morning, that would be good."


    "Yes, my lord."


    "Will you go down and ask for dinner now, please."


    "Yes, my lord." She got up, feeling more cheerful about the whole thing, and let herself out. If Miervaldis was interested in Cathecassa and in Liliya, she thought, as she hurried down the corridor, that meant he wasn''t chasing Pyrrhus and Kadir.


    Who do I think did it? The question ran across her mind, and she frowned. She''d been so busy chasing her lord''s suspicions, and trying to avoid holding any of her own against Pyrrhus'' brother, that she hadn''t thought about her personal opinions for a while. Who''s my favourite suspect? The idea of having a favourite for a murder made her cringe a bit. It wasn''t a nice prospect.

 Chapter 8

    The visit to Cathecassa warranted a proper coach with two horses and a driver. Miervaldis went ahead of Alyn to speak to the grooms, and when she finally made it to the stableyard, accompanied by two servants bearing the luggage, the carriage was waiting. It was an gleaming dark blue affair with gold trim and ornate curlicues. The horses harnessed to it were tall, elegant and black all over. The whole outfit looked terribly proper, not what she usually associated with her lord.


    The servants put the chests into the carriage compartment and she thanked them and climbed into the coach. Miervaldis was not there, and she made herself comfortable on the pale leather of the seats. It was soft under her hands, almost velvety. This is a normal Fifth Star Court carriage? She shook her head, amazed at the luxury.


    "Ah, Alyn," she heard and turned; her lord stood at the coach door, smiling at her. "Thank you for bringing the luggage. My word, what a coach this is!" He clambered in and sat down opposite her. Alyn felt slightly ridiculous in all the space; the coach could easily have seated six. Miervaldis stretched his legs out and grinned.


    "We may as well enjoy it," he said cheerfully. "I just asked for a coach. This must be standard here."


    "How long will it take to get there, my lord?"


    "Several hours or so. It''s a good road, but this is hardly built for speed."


    "Are you ready, milord?" The coachman poked his head in through the door. He was dressed to match the carriage - better, Alyn thought, than her lord was, in his well-worn waistcoat and scruffy boots. The over-tunic he had brought with him, now slung over the seat beside him, was the reversable one. She shivered at the memory, and the suspicion that had only been fuelled by her brother''s letter.


    "Ready," said Miervaldis cheerfully, and the coachman bobbed his head.


    "We''ll be off then," he said, closing the door behind him. Alyn shook her head to banish the thoughts, and settled back to enjoy the ride.


    Whether it was the well-kept road, the balanced gait of the horses or the well-sprung suspension of the coach, the journey was smooth and easy. Alyn, intrigued, watched the countryside unfold. Her home in the demesne of Third Star Court was largely moorland, which made for poor crop-farming country. Her father''s tenant farmers kept sheep and pigs and the occasional cow; closer to the court there were more crop farms, although still limited to the hardier varieties. Fourth Star Court was in a gentler region, with lush fields producing all sorts of crops and cows grazing the rich grass. Here, where it was warmer still, the most common sight was trees; many different kinds of fruit trees, olive trees and several acres of woodland which she guessed must go towards providing the lovely wooden furniture that graced the rooms of Fifth Star Court. Here and there they passed fields with staked plants in, some of which she recognised as varieties of tomatoes, but most she did not. The peasants working the fields wore bright colours, reds and yellows, and scarves on their heads. They passed the occasional cart, but the road was mostly empty.


    Eventually they left the farmlands surrounding Fifth Star Court, the road turning to wind through rolling hills where a few cows grazed. It didn''t look like the best land for cows, and indeed there had only been a few goats around the fields they had been travelling through, but this herd looked healthy enough. On the other side of the hills, the land flattened again and the farmlands resumed.


    "This is Lord Cassian''s land," Miervaldis said from the other side of the carriage. Alyn looked over. He was wearing a slight frown, and watching the land closely. She looked back again, but didn''t see anything different. There were the same orchards, the same small, neat houses, the same goats. There weren''t any people, though, she realised. Were they afraid of the carriage? Did they guess - wrongly - who was riding in it?


    Cathecassa was set back from the road, behind a high wall of ancient trees. There were footmen at the gate but the carriage was expected, and the tall gates swung back almost immediately. The house itself was enormous, a stately, elegant building formed mostly of grey bricks, cast in a warm light by the midday sun. The coachman brought the horses to a skilfull stop in front of the main entrance. Squinting through the sun that shone into her eyes, Alyn made out a woman standing at the door, and someone else behind her. Is that her? Lord Cassian''s wife? She scrambled from the carriage behind her lord, still trying to see clearly against the glare.


    "Lord Miervaldis," said the woman, stepping forwards into the light. She wore a dove-grey dress cut to fit her perfectly, and her dark hair was carefully arranged in a subtle style that spoke volumes of the skill of the hairdresser. The figure in the background, Alyn saw now, was a butler, dressed elegantly and staying politely several steps behind his lady.


    "Lady Ismene. Thank you so much for your kind invitation."


    "You''re very welcome, my lord," and she smiled. She looked young, Alyn thought, with her smooth skin and her hair untouched by grey. Behind them, the coachman started walking the horses towards the stable entrance at the west wing. The lady gestured to the house, and Alyn followed behind.


    Inside, the decor and furnishings were as elegant as the outside, and entirely complemented the subdued, tasteful dress of Lady Ismene. Alyn got the distinct impression that this house was the Lady''s, and Lord Cassian had no say in how it was run or maintained. She wondered if he ever even visited, and if he had willingly given it up to his wife or if there had been a fight. The lady looked demure and quiet, but in her attitude Alyn could guess at strength of will and independence. They had been married long enough to have a child, so if there had been a clash of wills, it must have happened already and be in the past. She remembered Miervaldis saying Lord Cassian preferred to spend most of his time at court, and - given his tastes and attitude - she thought she understood why.


    They walked through several halls, on rich carpets and polished wood, past suits of armour polished to brilliance and paintings of, presumably, Lord Cassian''s ancestors, arranged to careful effect on the walls. Alyn felt small and scruffy, and just a little ashamed of her lord. But his clothes were his choice, and not her fault. He seemed unabashed, at any rate, looking around and making appreciative murmurs as the lady led them onwards.


    The room they were eventually ushered into was relatively small and carpeted in white. Huge windows let in ample light, and also showed a wide view of a fine garden, beautifully maintained. Beside the window, a girl sat reading; at their entrance, she started and looked up.


    "Aithne," said Lady Ismene, a slight reproof in her voice. "This is Lord Miervaldis, who has come to visit us." Aithne nodded and came forward. She was a tall girl, with dark hair and eyes and a slim figure. Like the lady, she wore a deceptively simple dress. Was she a cousin, perhaps, or a younger sister come to visit?


    "My Lord," the lady went on, turning to face her visitors, "this is Aithne, my daughter."


    Alyn jumped; she couldn''t help herself. The girl was older than she was, and her mother looked barely any older than Illiana! She hastily revised her perception of Lady Ismene''s age. How old had she been when she was married? And to stand up to Lord Cassian - for so she must have done, to have effectively banished him to the Court - she must be formidable. Alyn looked up, tentatively; Lord Miervaldis was bowing to Lady Aithne, and Lady Ismene was watching them both with a polite smile.


    "Do come in," she said, "and sit down. And please, my lord, do introduce your page."


    So Alyn had no choice but to step forward. She made the obeisance due a hosting Lady as Miervaldis introduced her.


    "This is Alyn Vanyasdotter of Third Star Court, who is doing me the honour of serving as my page in her first year."


    "Welcome, Alyn," said Lady Ismene. "It must have been quite a year for you so far." She was smiling still, and it seemed genuine. "Please, both of you, have a seat."


    Seated on the fine white chairs, Alyn tried to relax, but felt constantly on guard. It was made worse when the butler brought in coffee, olives, tomatoes and goats'' cheese, almost all of which were guaranteed to stain white carpets and white chairs. She nibbled on a piece of goats'' cheese, enjoying the smoothness and tangy flavour, and listened quietly as her lord made small talk with Lady Ismene. Aithne also listened quietly, not saying anything, but clearly taking it in. The conversation drifted over the magnificent gardens, the lovely house, the farming prospects in Lord Cassian''s lands and how things were at Court.


    "So, how are the investigations proceeding, my lord?" Ismene asked after a little while. Alyn cringed.


    "Investigations, my lady?"


    "Come now, we may be some way away from Court, but we know what''s going on. You were sent by the Sun Emperor to investigate the crime of which my husband is, ah, unofficially suspected, were you not?"


    There was a pause. Alyn hadn''t expected such a straightforward accusation. She wondered how gossip spread so fast, but they had been at Fifth Star Court for some time now, she supposed. She sneaked a look at the lady, who was watching Miervaldis with a steady gaze, then at Aithne. To her surprise, Aithne was watching her. Alyn lowered her eyes, avoiding her gaze.


    "We are making progress," Miervaldis conceded.


    "And you have come to see if we might be involved?"


    "Mother!"


    "Hush, Aithne, Lord Miervaldis is a fair-minded man. He won''t mind straight speech, and he won''t consider us guilty for it."


    "It is a pleasant change in many ways," Miervaldis said, straight-faced, but Alyn recognised well-hidden amusement in his voice.


    "I''m glad to hear it. What questions do you have for us?"


    "I should like to know what you were doing on the night the murder took place, please. That was the early morning of the fourth day before the first Emperor''s birthday."


    "Fifth spring star day, we call it here."


    "It would be second spring moon day in Fourth Star Court," Miervaldis offered.


    "You are further north, I suppose. Well..." she paused. "I don''t think there was anything specific. I certainly don''t remember any visitors, I''m afraid. You are the first we''ve had in weeks. With the exception of Lord Isidor, of course, but I think of him more as family." She was looking thoughtful and grave, but appeared honest, although Alyn had the feeling that if this formidable lady wanted to lie, she could do so without turning even one of her perfectly arranged hairs. Alyn looked away, not wanting to be seen staring at her as though waiting for a giveaway expression, although that was what she was doing. She glanced over to Aithne instead, and saw to her surprise that although the girl wore a carefree look on her face, her hands were gripping her cup so tightly that her knuckles were white. The coffee was rippling against the edge of the fine china.


    "Aithne," said Lady Ismene, and the girl looked up abruptly.


    "Yes, mother?"


    "Please go and check that the maids have prepared rooms for Lord Miervaldis and for Alyn."


    "Yes mother." Aithne put her cup down, banging it sharply and sloshing the coffee into the saucer, and hurried from the room. Alyn watched her go, wondering if she''d been sent out deliberately. Was something about to be said, or was Lady Ismene concerned that her daughter might give something away? If so, what might it be?


    "When did Lord Isidor last visit?"


    "Two days ago."


    "Did he stay the night?"


    "No, he doesn''t usually. I believe he''s concerned for his mother."


    "And when did he visit before then?"


    "At least three weeks ago. I''m afraid I don''t remember when precisely."


    "So you have no alibi for the night of the murder?" Alyn was a bit shocked at her lord''s semi-accusation, but Lady Ismene just laughed. It was a pleasant, silvery laugh, not at all insulted.


    "I do, my lord. As you can see, we are some way away from the Court. You may speak to any of my servants; they will all confirm that I was not out of sight long enough to travel to the Court and back again on that night or any before or since."


    "I see. Thank you for your openness, my lady."


    "You''re very welcome, my lord." She still sounded entirely sincere, Alyn thought, and her gaze was steady. "I have no desire for my husband to be accused of murder, of course, but I''m afraid I can''t help you clear his name."


    Miervaldis looked down and there was a long pause before he raised his eyes again.


    "I am not here to clear his name," he said quietly. "I am here to find the truth."


    "I would also like the truth," the lady replied, "and the truth is that I am not involved, and neither is my daughter."


    "I understand."


    They returned to small talk after that, and then the lady took them on a walk around the beautiful gardens. She had imported several varieties of flowering plant from Seventh Star Court, the southern-most court, and showed them off with considerable pride. They lifted bright, exotic faces to the light and warmth of the afternoon. Miervaldis seemed fully engaged in the conversation, asking questions which Alyn would never have thought of, but Lady Ismene appeared to think very clever.


    Aithne did not reappear until dinner, which was held in a long room walled and floored with rich wood. A chandelier raised multiple light reflections in the highly polished surfaces, and the setting sun shone through the tall windows at the end. Lady Ismene clearly liked to have plenty of light around her. She was seated at the head of the table, with Miervaldis to her right and Aithne to her left. To her immense discomfort, Alyn had a place set for her by her lord. She didn''t protest, exactly, because that would have been rude, but she did hang back. Lady Ismene noticed, and smiled at her.


    "This isn''t a formal dinner, Alyn. Please, consider yourself our guest, and be seated."


    Feeling awkward, Alyn sat down, keeping her eyes on the place set for her. The silverware to each side sparkled in the flickering light, glinting red where the sunset caught it. There were four glasses, two of glass and two of delicately cut crystal. There hadn''t been that many at the Fifth Star Court banquet! What on earth would she need four glasses for?


    The first course was brought in; goats¡¯ cheese again, arranged around roasted vegetables with a salty dark sauce on one side. The combination was delicious, although Alyn spent most of her time trying not to get the dark sauce on the fine white tablecloth, and listening to her lord and the lady exchange pleasantries and light conversation. The lady liked her wines, it seemed, and Miervaldis knew something of wine himself, which surprised her. His demesne, in the north of the Fourth Star Court lands, was hardly fit for producing wine.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "I do like the addition of honey," Lady Ismene was saying as the servants came round to remove the plates. "I like the edge it adds to the taste."


    "I''ve never tried that," Miervaldis said in reply. A new plate was set in front of Alyn, with several varieties of fish - all fresh water - and greenery. More of the dark sauce was arranged around the leaves, and there was a lemon slice to the side. She watched Aithne covertly; the girl picked up the lemon and squeezed it over the fish. Cautiously, Alyn tried the same, and squirted her own tunic in the process. She glanced up guiltily, but no-one seemed to have noticed.


    The conversation passed on to farming; Lady Ismene''s closest farmers kept bees, and their honey was, she said, exquisite. Miervaldis asked after the wax, and they talked about candlemaking. He knew very little, but was keen to find out more; she knew only what the chandlers had told her. They were based in the local town, Discin, which was a mile away, and she visited frequently.


    "I normally go on Holy days," Ismene said. "We have a chapel here, of course, but it''s so much better to spend one''s time in chapel around other people. It seems very... stand-offish to pray and contemplate here, where there is only Aithne to accompany me. All our servants go to Discin for Holy day services, and I find them very hospitable, and the local sage is excellent. Of course, after the service the town is full of people celebrating, and it''s very pleasant to walk around."


    "You were there for the first Emperor''s birthday, then?"


    "I was, yes." The servants came in and started removing plates again; Alyn hastily gobbled the last of the trout. It was very tasty, but she''d been listening closely to the conversation and had neglected the fish. It was replaced by tomato soup with a swirl of cream, which she had been expecting - there was a soup spoon in the array of cutlery to her right. Fresh bread accompanied it. How many courses are there going to be?


    "You did not accompany your mother?" Miervaldis directed his question to Aithne, who was delicately sipping at the soup. She looked up, slightly shame-faced.


    "I did not, my lord."


    "My daughter does not appreciate the value of Holy day services," Ismene said a little icily. Alyn shivered.


    "I normally go, mother!" Aithne sounded indignant. "It''s just - the first Emperor''s birthday is such a dull contemplation. Isidor said he wasn¡¯t going either-" She cut off hastily and lowered her head to her soup. Lady Ismene''s eyes narrowed, although she did not outright glare at her daughter. Alyn, cowering over her own soup, thought that something had been said that was wrong, but what could it have been? She glanced to her left; her lord''s eyes were focussed on his meal, his expression mild, apparently not noticing the anger and concern across the table.


    "Well," he offered after a pause, "it''s not, perhaps, the most engaging contemplation, I would agree."


    Apparently he had not noticed the conflict. Alyn knew him better than that, and saw that Lady Ismene was not entirely convinced either. His oblivious facade allowed the conversation to continue along a different path, although Aithne did not participate again. She kept her head down, ate what was put in front of her, and kept quiet.


    The meal took six more courses to complete; one sorbet, tangy and refreshing, one of a filled pasta, a dish Alyn had not been familiar with before coming to Fourth Star Court, and two meat dishes, one beef and one pork. There were also two desserts; a frothy concoction made of sugar and egg and decorated with cherries and almonds, and little flaky pastries accompanied by cream and a hot, sweet, minty tea. The pastry layers were interleaved with a sweet, honey-like, nutty filling which Alyn found irresistable. It wasn''t like anything she''d ever tasted.


    "Do you like the baklava, Alyn?" She looked up and met Lady Ismene''s amused gaze. She swallowed.


    "Yes, my lady. They''re delicious. I''ve never eaten anything like them before."


    "You must take some with you, then, when you go. They''re quite a delicacy around here, and they do keep. Perhaps you could take some to your family."


    "That would be very kind, my lady," she managed. The possibility that the baklava would survive as far as Third Star Court was pretty remote. They were just too nice.


    "I suppose you are quite some way away from both your family court and your court of service, aren''t you?"


    "Yes, my lady."


    "Still, you could share them with friends at Fifth Star Court. Have you made friends there?"


    "Yes, my lady." Alyn thought of Pyrrhus, and Bensen. Did Bensen know how to make these? Then, conscious that she was being quite unhelpful in the conversation, she hurried to elaborate. "I''ve not been there long, of course, but I''ve made friends with Pyrrhus, who''s a page in the same year as me."


    There was a splash from across the table as Aithne spilt her mint tea.


    "Oh, Aithne," said Lady Ismene reprovingly. It wasn''t a big spill; she''d only jogged the little glass, not knocked it over, but there was a spreading stain on the pretty tablecloth. Aithne looked like she was about to cry. "Never mind," her mother went on, more gently. "We''re about to leave the table anyway. Why don''t you go and tell Felissa what''s happened? I''m sure she can sort it out."


    Aithne made a miserable noise of agreement and hurried out, head down. Ismene watched her go, then looked back to her guests, her face showing only motherly concern.


    "It is a difficult time for her," she said, although Alyn didn''t see why. Miervaldis made appropriate noises. The servants came to clean up the plates - Alyn had to fight the desire to hold on to hers so she could lick it clean in private - and they adjourned to the same room they''d sat in before. The sun had set fully, and the large windows were covered by rich curtains, illuminated by another chandelier. Clearly, Lord Cassian had enormous wealth, which went very well with his lady''s impeccable taste. Small cups of thick black coffee were brought in, with tiny sugared biscuits. Alyn almost felt like crying; the biscuits looked delicious, but she was so full from the huge meal, even the idea of eating them was uncomfortable. She perched on the edge of her seat, ignoring the coffee which was begging to be spilt on the white furnishings, and watched her lord and the lady.


    The conversation remained general, touching lightly on numerous topics, now mostly political ones. The problems with the tenancy laws in the south, the question of how self-governing individual Courts should be, the makeup of the current Advisors to the Sun Court. The Sun Emperor was a young man, Alyn knew, the third son of his father, who had died just six years ago. So far, he had held the reins of power well and his Court was running smoothly, but there was, apparently discontent. She remembered her lord''s words; "There''ll always be people who disagree, Alyn, even with the will of the gods on earth". She''d never heard two adults discussing the issues of power in the realm so... so frankly. It made her feel a little depressed about it all.


    "Of course, people will disagree," Lady Ismene said thoughtfully. "But it has always been the choice of the reigning Emperor."


    "The Emperor''s younger brother supports the choice," Miervaldis said mildly.


    "However, his older brother, the son of the First Empress, does not. That could cause problems."


    "I believe the Emperor is dealing with that. Lord Ulrik must respect his father''s choice." Lord Ulrik, Alyn knew, was the old Emperor''s first son, the only child born to the First Empress. The Second Empress had had two sons and a daughter; the first son had been chosen to succeed his father and now reigned in the Sun Court. The Third Empress had borne two girls. Each Sun Emperor chose his successor, and that choice was considered inviolate, the will of the gods expressed through their voice on earth. Or so she had always thought.


    "You''ve met the Sun Emperor, haven''t you, my lord?" Alyn glanced up; Lady Ismene was watching her lord carefully.


    "I had that honour, yes."


    "What is he like?" She was waiting intently, but Alyn got the distinct impression that she wasn''t so interested in the Sun Emperor himself, but in what Miervaldis said about him. It was the same feeling she''d had when Miervaldis had quizzed her in the coach on the way to Fifth Star Court.


    "His Holiness, the will of the gods on earth, the Voice of the Divine... he is a remarkable young man," Miervaldis said slowly, putting his coffee down. He was weighing each word, it seemed to Alyn, being very careful in what he said. Lady Ismene watched him like a hawk. "I met him during a visit to the Sun Court," he went on. "I had been asked there by an old friend. I didn''t speak to the Emperor for long, of course."


    "I see." If she was disappointed by any aspect of the reply, it didn''t show. There was a pause, then she led the conversation in a different direction, and they left politics behind. What had she got out of all this, Alyn wondered. Was it what she had wanted to find out?


    They slept that night in rooms quite far apart from each other, unusual for a page and her lord, and there was no chance to talk. The bed allotted to Alyn was enormous and soft; she felt like it was going to swallow her whole, but after the huge meal, lying down felt heavenly and she slept well. The morning passed quickly; they set off after a leisurely breakfast and an inconsequential, upbeat conversation with Lady Ismene. Aithne was there, and appeared cheerful, but Alyn noticed she was careful not to say much. The butler brought them a parting gift of a large box of baklava, as promised.


    The coach rolled over the miles as smoothly as it had the day before, and there was no conversation. Alyn was very aware of the driver, who sat so close to them and could probably hear everything they said. They reached Fifth Star Court in the early afternoon, and Miervaldis dispatched her to the kitchen to fetch lunch, which they had missed on the journey. Only when the lunch had arrived and the door locked behind the undercook who had brought it did he finally ask her what she had thought about Cathecassa, about the Lady Ismene, and about her nervous daughter.


    Alyn swallowed the bread and cheese she''d been eating and put the cherry tomato down.


    "I don''t know about the lady," she said slowly. "She was watching you very carefully while you were talking about the Sun Emperor. I don''t know why, but I don''t think it was because she was interested in him."


    "Indeed. Well done, yes, I noticed that too. And what of the lady Aithne?"


    "She got very nervous over some things," Alyn said. "She jumped when I mentioned Pyrrhus at dinner, and she was very tense when we were talking beforehand - when Lady Ismene mentioned Lord Isidor''s name."


    "Was she now? I was surprised when her mother asked her to go out that time - I hadn''t noticed she was nervous. That''s interesting... Did you notice anything else?"


    "Only that Lady Ismene got annoyed that Lady Aithne talked about Lord Isidor at dinner, but I don''t understand why."


    Miervaldis paused to chew a bit of bread, and nodded, swallowing.


    "I noticed that. I don''t know why, but it would seem there is some connection to Lord Isidor, and to Pyrrhus. I wonder if Kadir is involved somehow..."


    He fell silent, musing, and they finished lunch in silence. Alyn wondered if they had got any closer to the truth. And how did this connect to Liliya, or did it?


    After lunch, Miervaldis told Alyn to go to her lessons. He wanted, he said, to have a think, and he didn''t have anything for her to do. Feeling a bit sulky, she did so. Pyrrhus was absent from the lesson, and she didn''t listen to a word Lord Ronoy said, just stared out of the window and juggled suspects in her head.


    Lord Kadir might want to frame Lord Cassian because of his father, and Pyrrhus his brother is worried he did it. Pyrrhus likes Lord Isidor who wants money and might be involved politically against the Emperor, and who visits Cathecassa where Lady Aithne jumped at their names. Liliya''s paper was taken by someone, but why? She served Lord Cassian and left because she got ill. Brenna, her friend, lied to implicate Lord Cassian - why? Because she hates him, or because she''s protecting someone? Who could she be protecting? Why does she hate him so very much?


    She sighed. At least they could cross Aethan off the list. It still seemed like a very tangled knot.


    Outside, the spring sky darkened with clouds, and rain began to fall as the lesson ended and Lord Ronoy dismissed the pages. Alyn stopped briefly on the ground floor to watch the raindrops patter over the Garden of Seven Streams. The streams were all artificial but for one, the prettiest of all, which wound through the carefully planted trees in a picturesque ramble. A small wooden bridge arched over it in the middle, although the stream was so narrow that the bridge had to be purely aesthetic. The rain drummed on the wood of the bridge and splashed into the streams, natural and artificial alike, making a hypnotic kind of percussion.


    She kept to the indoors as she crossed the court, not wanting to get wet. As she came close to their rooms, reaching out to try the handle, she heard voices inside, and stopped.


    "No, my lord! I didn''t lie! I saw him, I tell you!" It was Brenna''s voice, angry but with a shrill hint of fear.


    "Brenna, what are you afraid of?" Miervaldis'' voice, by contrast, was calm and quiet, unperturbed.


    "I''m not afraid! What do you mean? Why, why would I be?"


    "Do you know where your brother was eleven nights ago?" There was an indrawn breath from Brenna, then silence. Alyn listened, heart in her mouth, while a tiny voice in her head warned her that listening at her lord''s door was going to look horribly suspicious to anyone passing by.


    Brenna managed to respond, finally.


    "My lord, I, he, he serves as porter. He would have been in court. But not, not anywhere near anything. I mean - " she stopped, her voice broken. It sounded like she was sniffling; Alyn wished she could see, wished she had been there for the start of the conversation.


    "He was on the farm," Miervaldis said gently. "I asked the Head Porter. A couple of your father''s hired hands got into a fight, and the farm was short-handed. He took those two days off to help with the planting. He was nowhere near Court that night."


    Brenna started crying in earnest, although from the noises she was making Alyn guessed she was trying not to.


    "Sit down," said her lord. "Have some tea." There was a little noise from the maid and a creak from the chair as she obeyed. "Now," he went on. "Tell me, did you truly see Lord Cassian at his study door that night?"


    "No," said Brenna, in a very small voice.


    "You were trying to protect your brother?"


    "Yes."


    "Why did you think he would want to murder Jaquan?"


    There was another pause. Alyn bit her lip and glanced round, but the hall remained empty.


    "What did Jaquan do to Neirin?"


    "Wasn''t Jaquan. Wasn''t Neirin." Brenna''s tone sounded clipped and reluctant, and still somewhat tearful.


    "It was Lord Cassian?"


    "Yes!" Her voice was loud now, and the response was accompanied by a bang. Angry footsteps hit the floor, but the maid did not make for the door. Alyn looked around again, wondering where she was going to hide when Brenna did finally leave.


    "It was my fine lord, indeed, it was. And it wasn''t Neirin who he wronged, no, not him. He''s not interested in men! You ask his maidservants, you ask them, and then see if you think he should remain where he is! Such a fine lord, the bastard!"


    The outburst shocked Alyn, but apparently not Miervaldis; at least, his voice remained calm and even.


    "You haven''t told Neirin, have you?"


    "No! Because I don''t want him doing something stupid! That''s why, that''s why I was so worried..." her voice trailed off, and she sniffed, a horrible snorting sound. Alyn heard a creak as she or Miervaldis sat down.


    "Thank you for telling me the truth," he said.


    "If he did it," Brenna asked, voice still a little choked but also still angry, "will you say he did?"


    "If that''s what the balance of the evidence is."


    "You better." Her tone was both vengeful and doubting, as though it were inconceivable that Lord Cassian could really be accused of anything. Alyn remembered Miervaldis'' words to the chamberlain; They couldn''t possibly allow a lord to be accused of murder, now, could they? Lords didn''t murder, but what if one did? Lord Cassian, in fact, may already have done so.


    Poor Pyrrhus, she thought, distracted, and then heard footsteps making for the door. Quickly, she darted down the corridor and round a corner, down the stairs and into the little garden that was squeezed between two wings of the court. It was still raining, so she pressed against the wall. The apple trees in the garden seemed to reach out, towards the rain, towards the grey sky framed between the tall walls of the court.


    She couldn''t hear anything of what was happening one floor up and several walls away, so she waited what seemed like an age, then returned. The door was unlocked and her lord was alone, standing by the windows looking at the rainy sky. He looked up as she opened the door.


    "Alyn. You''re quite late. Did the lesson overrun?"


    Alyn locked the door behind her and came through to the main room before answering.


    "No, my lord, but when I came back, I heard... heard Brenna, and didn''t want to interrupt, so I waited."


    "Ah, I see. How much did you hear?"


    "I heard her say she didn''t see Lord Cassian after all. She was trying to protect her brother?"


    "That''s right. I wondered if that was the case, so I checked with his overseer, and the boy wasn''t even at Court that night. The poor girl was so afraid of what he might say that she hadn''t even asked him."


    "She seemed very angry at Lord Cassian."


    "She did. It would seem he is... not a good lord to serve, as a maidservant. Or even to be around; Brenna has always been on the general Court staff. I''m surprised this has gone on so long."


    Alyn didn''t ask him to elaborate. She could guess what he meant, and what Brenna had meant, and indeed what Ythilda had meant when she said of Liliya, she was ill. It made her feel cold, and sick, and angry, and a little afraid, for herself.


    "So Brenna''s lie is nothing, my lord?" she asked eventually.


    "It looks that way." He sighed and sat down. "I think we will have to investigate Kadir... although that doesn''t account for the paper being moved, and accusing a different lord hardly helps matters. I can''t help thinking we''re missing something."


    "It wasn''t Lord Cassian?"


    "I can''t see any reason for Lord Cassian to kill his scribe, especially not like that. There is Lord Isidor, of course. And the good folk at Cathecassa. There''s definitely something going on that would explain all this."


    He didn''t sound at all frustrated, just intent and curious. Alyn, feeling sad for Brenna and angry at Lord Cassian, was beginning to find the whole affair hanging heavily on her. She sighed.


    "Cheer up," Miervaldis said. "It''s dinner time. Why don''t you go and see what your friend can provide?"

 Chapter 9

    Miervaldis was quiet over dinner, which was served by Bensen who cast several inquiring glances Alyn¡¯s way. The interest was not missed, however. After eating, he pushed the plates aside and said without preamble:


    ¡°If you can talk to Bensen tomorrow, that would be good.¡±


    ¡°My lord?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re missing too much information. There¡¯s a lot going on that we can¡¯t see, and I can¡¯t even tell if it¡¯s relevant or not. Lady Ismene and her daughter were¡­ intriguing. Please can you ask Bensen about the duel where Lord Idony died, and if anything¡¯s known about the children ¨C you may as well ask how Pyrrhus ended up here. That should never have happened, and it¡¯s something you could be expected to know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Alyn said obediently. She wondered how easy it would be to start that kind of conversation. Surely Bensen would know she was fishing?


    ¡°In the meantime, I want to talk to Lord Cassian again, and also to Lord Isidor. Preferably without his mother present. Whatever he¡¯s hiding, I think it¡¯s linked to Cathecassa.¡±


    ¡°Cathecassa?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s not just Lady Aithne¡¯s reaction to his name. It¡¯s what she said about the Holy day.¡±


    ¡°The Holy day?¡± Alyn thought back through the conversation as she remembered it. ¡°Lady Aithne had said something about Lord Isidor finding it boring¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not very conclusive,¡± Miervaldis said, ¡°but it did strike me as unusual. Lady Aithne said she¡¯d talked with Isidor about going to the First Emperor¡¯s birthday, and the way she spoke, it sounded to me like she was talking about this particular service, this year ¨C the one just a week ago. But her mother said that he had not visited for some time before the First Emperor¡¯s birthday, so why would it have come up? It¡¯s probably nothing, but¡­ well, I found it interesting. And the grooms did say he went to Cathecassa at least weekly. That doesn¡¯t fit with what Lady Ismene said either.¡±


    Alyn thought that was very tenuous, but she had to admit that there was something going on involving Lord Isidor and Cathecassa, even if Lady Ismene wasn¡¯t trying to cover up a visit.


    ¡°Are you going to ask about the money, my lord?¡± she asked, remembering what Bensen had said.


    ¡°I think that would be a good plan, yes. But only if his mother isn¡¯t present. She controls the conversation too well.¡± He stretched back in his chair and yawned. ¡°But that¡¯s for tomorrow, and we¡¯ll see how it goes when we get to it. It¡¯s been a long day. Go to bed.¡±


    To her annoyance, Alyn did not get out of the first lesson the next morning. Miervaldis said he wanted to preserve normality, and she¡¯d be most likely to meet Bensen if she ate at the refectory as she had before. She took herself off to the lesson in a bad mood, but to her relief, it was jovial Lord Anstable teaching that morning. For all that, she still found it hard to concentrate. Were they nearer reaching a conclusion? They had eliminated suspects from the list, but she didn¡¯t like the people who were left. Rather, she didn¡¯t like the idea that any of them might be involved, except for Lord Cassian himself, of course. She hoped it was him, and that they found proof. But if it was Lord Isidor, or, worse, Pyrrhus¡¯ brother¡­ she glanced over to where Pyrrhus sat, and he met her gaze and smiled slightly. Knowing what might be in store for his brother made her feel like a traitor, and she looked away hurriedly. At the end of the lesson, it was her turn to avoid him, hurrying down to the refectory to try and fulfil her commands.


    That, thankfully, proved surprisingly easy. Bensen spotted her in the queue, and came out to join her shortly after she started eating.


    ¡°So what happened at Cathecassa?¡± he asked as he sat down, eyes alight with curiosity. ¡°Everyone¡¯s talking about it, that you went. Well, that your lord did. You did go with him, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Alyn said indignantly.


    ¡°Did you meet the lady? What¡¯s she like?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course we did. She was very elegant, very polite. Why, hasn¡¯t she been to Court?¡±


    ¡°Not hardly, no.¡± He took a bite of bread and chewed it while speaking. ¡°They got married here, see, and then she went to the estate. He went too, but he came back three days later and since then they¡¯re never here together. He sometimes goes away, but¡­ well, we all thought she had to be some kind of harpy, to keep Cassian away.¡± Alyn didn¡¯t miss the casual disrespect implied in the lack of Lord Cassian¡¯s title. She shrugged.


    ¡°I think she is very strong,¡± she said carefully. ¡°But she was nice to us. It¡¯s a lovely house.¡±


    ¡°It would be.¡± There was a silence, and Alyn wondered how to get onto what her lord had asked about.


    ¡°You said Lord Cassian killed a man,¡± she ventured. ¡°Was that in a duel?¡±


    ¡°It was,¡± Bensen said, showing no surprise at the change of topic. Heartened, Alyn continued.


    ¡°What happened? Who was it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the real reason was, but Cassian claimed this lord from Eighth Star Court insulted him and claimed satisfaction. There was a duel, oh, this was about five years ago or so. He killed him, straight off.¡±


    ¡°Is he a good duellist?¡±


    ¡°I suppose. Or he cheated.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know who the man was?¡±


    Bensen looked thoughtfully at his apple, held poised before his mouth.


    ¡°Berinhard,¡± he said eventually. ¡°And oh, you know how I know? Because your friend Pyrrhus is his son!¡± This last was said as though it was a great revelation; Alyn struggled to act as though surprised.


    ¡°Really? But ¨C how come he¡¯s here, then? What happened?¡±


    ¡°Oh, at the time it was all a great fuss. There were two boys, you see, Pyrrhus and his older brother, who was friends with Lord Isidor.¡±


    ¡°Friends?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they were pages together. Well of course they couldn¡¯t be after that, could they? So Lord Isidor had to finish his service early, and he was furious with his uncle, and swore he would avenge his friend¡¯s father¡¯s death. We all heard him, the day he arrived back here, cursing and shouting at Cassian¡¯s door.¡±


    ¡°Door?¡± Alyn mentally kicked herself for echoing, but Bensen didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t come out,¡± he said briefly, and bit into the hitherto-ignored apple. After chewing, he went on. ¡°Anyway, I think the brothers were adopted by their uncle or something, in the same court, but all the fuss died down. Then poor Pyrrhus got sent to serve here, and I don¡¯t think people realised at first, but now it¡¯s being talked about. What with the murder and all.¡± He gave Alyn a long, thoughtful look, as though he realised she was probing.


    ¡°If Lord Isidor had to finish his service early, what about Pyrrhus¡¯ brother?¡± she asked, remembering in the nick of time not to use Kadir¡¯s name. Bensen shrugged.


    ¡°No idea,¡± he said offhandedly. ¡°I expect he had to finish early too. He¡¯s probably at Eighth Star Court now. He¡¯ll be Lord Berinhard now, after all.¡±


    Alyn stared at her plate. She couldn¡¯t see Pyrrhus as a murderer, but they knew nothing of Kadir. Was he like his brother?


    ¡°You think he did it?¡± Bensen echoed her thoughts.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said, and sighed. It didn¡¯t take much effort to make it sound defeated.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost beginning to feel sorry for Jaquan,¡± Bensen remarked.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he was a real stinker. But to be killed just to get revenge on the lord he served¡­ seems a bit cold, to me. It could have been any of the scribes.¡±


    Alyn returned to the rooms after lunch feeling full of information. She unburdened it all to Miervaldis, and he listened, nodding thoughtfully.


    ¡°So Kadir and Isidor were friends as pages,¡± he said finally. ¡°That¡¯s very interesting. I wonder. Well, we¡¯ll be seeing Lord Isidor this afternoon ¨C yes, that¡¯s right, you don¡¯t have to go to the second lesson today.¡± Alyn grinned, and hurried off to wash and get ready.


    They saw Lord Isidor in his chambers, since his mother was visiting a friend that day, something which Alyn realised must have been checked by Miervaldis before he made the appointment. He was welcomed in with careful courtesy and offered tea, served by a maid who then left them in private. Alyn, as befitted a page, stood attendance on her lord.


    ¡°So, how may I help you?¡± Isidor said finally, after they had chatted about the weather, the tea, and horse breeding, something Alyn had not realised her lord knew so much about.


    ¡°We visited Cathecassa a couple of days ago,¡± Miervaldis said. ¡°Lady Ismene was very welcoming. I understand you visit there often?¡±


    Alyn, watching Isidor from the side, wondered if he had tensed at the mention of the house or the lady. She thought he had, but couldn¡¯t be sure.


    ¡°I do, yes,¡± the young lord said smoothly. ¡°I like to visit my aunt and cousin, and the ride is a pleasant one.¡±


    ¡°When were you last there?¡±


    ¡°A few days ago. Maybe a week.¡±


    ¡°And before then?¡±


    He reached down to pick up a cake. Was it a delaying tactic, Alyn wondered. His voice was still calm when he replied.


    ¡°Oh, a month or so. I don¡¯t go all that often.¡± And that, she thought, had to be a lie. At least, unless he lied to the grooms about where he took his horse. Once a week, she remembered them saying.


    ¡°I understand you were friends with Lord Kadir Berinhard as pages?¡± Now Isidor did flinch, as though he hadn¡¯t expected that.


    ¡°I was,¡± he said steadily. ¡°We haven¡¯t communicated for some time, but we parted on good terms. Despite¡­ despite what happened.¡±


    ¡°And you know his brother is here as a page?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do. He¡¯s a good boy, Pyrrhus. I was sorry he had to come here, but he¡¯s serving a good lord.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t talk to Pyrrhus about his brother?¡±


    ¡°Why would I?¡± The response was too fast, and Isidor had gone a little pale, Alyn thought.


    ¡°If you were good friends, I thought you might have wanted to know how he was.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, I didn¡¯t want to bring up bad memories for the boy¡­ we don¡¯t really talk much.¡± That, Alyn thought, remembering how familiar they had been in the refectory, was probably also a lie.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Miervaldis, and left that line of conversation aside. ¡°Might I ask a personal question?¡±


    ¡°Please do,¡± said Isidor, sounding a bit relieved at the change in subject.


    ¡°I understand you had an argument with your uncle a few days before the murder?¡±


    ¡°I did?¡± Alyn thought there was real surprise in his tone.


    ¡°About money?¡± There was a pause, then Isidor laughed, although it sounded a little forced.


    ¡°I just wanted a horse,¡± he said simply. ¡°You have to understand, our estates ¨C my mother¡¯s and mine - are quite modest. There was a horse I very much wanted to buy, and I asked my uncle for money for it. He said no. I was angry, but he wouldn¡¯t change his mind.¡± He shrugged. ¡°The horse is gone now.¡±


    ¡°I see. And if I might continue asking personal questions¡­?¡±


    ¡°Please, my lord. I don¡¯t want to be considered a suspect, after all!¡±


    ¡°And yet you can¡¯t tell me where you were on the night of the murder?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± Isidor looked embarrassed. ¡°I couldn¡¯t answer that with my mother present, I¡¯m afraid. I was out in the town¡­ you understand?¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Miervaldis¡¯ tone was quite neutral. Alyn wondered if he believed the excuses. Neither was really verifiable ¨C convenient, that. ¡°Anyway,¡± her lord went on, ¡°I wanted to ask you about some connections I was informed you had with the Niethian group.¡±


    Isidor looked genuinely surprised.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been with them for years,¡± he said, and his voice was all unforced honesty. ¡°I did go to a couple of their meetings once, but, well, to be honest with you, my lord, I found I didn¡¯t really have the taste for heresy.¡±


    ¡°Why did you go in the first place?¡±


    ¡°I was curious. And, well, that was before my uncle named me as his heir. I, you see, I felt hard done by. I was young. And as I said, our estates are very small.¡± He looked quite shamefaced as he confessed, but it did sound like he was telling the truth.


    ¡°I see. Well, thank you for your honesty, my lord.¡±


    ¡°How do the investigations go, if I may ask?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t reveal secrets, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Miervaldis said drily. ¡°We are making progress.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to know,¡± said Isidor, and again, his voice sounded wholly honest. Miervaldis made the appropriate leavetaking formalities, and Alyn followed him out.


    Their winding course through the court took them past several servants and then the chamberlain, who was proceeding at a leisurely pace along the lower East corridor. He looked surprised then slightly nervous, and hurried over to them.


    ¡°Lord Miervaldis,¡± he said, his tone official. ¡°May I ask how the enquiry proceeds?¡±


    ¡°You may,¡± said Miervaldis. The chamberlain coughed, and looked annoyed. Miervaldis waited politely, one eyebrow raised, and Alyn tried hard to keep a straight face.


    ¡°How does the enquiry proceed?¡± the chamberlain asked eventually, his speech taut with irritation.


    ¡°We are approaching the truth.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think¡­¡± the chamberlain lowered his voice and glanced around. ¡°You don¡¯t think it was Lord Cassian, then?¡±


    ¡°We are not yet satisfied by the evidence.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see.¡± He looked agitated, Alyn thought, bobbing his head and wringing his hands. ¡°Well, thank you, my lord. Thank you. If there is anything I can do¡­¡±


    ¡°Actually, there might be. Tell me, you approve all the servants who work here, is that right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± He looked so pale, Alyn thought. But then, she remembered him as always being pale. Was he ill, or was it a natural colour?


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of a servant named Aethan Fedric¡¯s son who had a grudge against Jaquan. Do you know much of him?¡± Oddly, the chamberlain appeared to relax slightly. Alyn wondered at that, and at the question. Hadn¡¯t they ruled Aethan out?


    ¡°I know of him, my lord,¡± he said. ¡°He works for Lord Anstable. I don¡¯t know much about him, though, I¡¯m afraid. You¡¯d have to speak to Lord Anstable for that, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be happy to help in the enquiry.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I see. And what of a maid named Brenna?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s one of the Court staff. I¡¯m afraid that I know very little about them, since although I approve their appointment, I don¡¯t come into direct contact with the servants. Except for those who attend me, of course.¡±


    ¡°So you wouldn¡¯t remember a woman named Silvi Monar¡¯s daughter?¡±


    The chamberlain flinched noticeably, almost taking a step back. Then he coughed, forcing the sounds out and cupping his hands over his mouth as though to hide his face. When he recovered, he wore a sickly smile.


    ¡°I think I remember her, yes, my lord. She served some time ago, though. Why?¡±


    ¡°Did she have a child?¡±


    The chamberlain put on an expression of immense concentration.


    ¡°I believe she did, my lord,¡± he said, after a few minutes had elapsed. ¡°In fact, I think that was why she left. Ah¡­ is this relevant, my lord?¡±


    ¡°It may be,¡± Miervaldis said smoothly. ¡°Do you know what happened to the child?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got no idea what became of her,¡± the chamberlain said. ¡°If you¡¯ll forgive me, my lord¡­¡± He bobbed his head, and scurried past. Miervaldis turned to watch him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.


    Back in their rooms, he had Alyn order tea, since it was too early for dinner. After the tea had come, and he had had one cup and was halfway through a second, he finally asked her what she thought of their interview with Lord Isidor.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, my lord,¡± she said, sitting up in the comfortable seat and putting her cup down on its saucer. ¡°I think some of it was true, but the bit about not knowing Pyrrhus well¡­ that¡¯s got to be a lie. And about going to Cathecassa only once every few weeks, too. And even the horse and the money¡­ I mean, I talked to the grooms and they said he really loved his horse. It just¡­ doesn¡¯t quite fit.¡±


    ¡°No, I agree. I¡¯m also afraid that his alibi for the night of the murder, while quite believable, is utterly impossible to verify. At least, not without talking to all the sweet girls in Ellmore, which is not a task I care to undertake.¡± He sighed. ¡°I thought he seemed tense when we discussed Cathecassa, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll get anything out of him by questioning, unfortunately. You say he knows Pyrrhus?¡±


    ¡°I think so, my lord. I was there when he came into the refectory ¨C I mean, Pyrrhus was with me and Lord Isidor came in ¨C and they seemed familiar with each other. Then Pyrrhus got all defensive of Lord Isidor when I said I thought it was silly him not confessing where he¡¯d been the night of the murder¡­¡± she broke off, remembering that she¡¯d got into trouble over that conversation, but her lord only nodded.


    ¡°I remember,¡± he said. ¡°Hmmm.¡± He looked thoughtful. ¡°It is a shame we can¡¯t talk to Kadir. I don¡¯t really want to start involving the other Star Courts, but it would be good to know where he was that night. Just to be sure, to eliminate that possibility. Of course, accusing another lord is just as unsatisfactory as accusing Lord Cassian.¡± He smiled wryly, drank the rest of the tea, and put his cup down. ¡°And what of our little chat with the chamberlain?¡±


    ¡°He seemed very uneasy, my lord, especially when you mentioned Silvi.¡±


    ¡°He did. But then, he was always uneasy when talking to me, I¡¯m afraid. I rather suspect he lied about knowing Liliya, too. She bore ¨C bears ¨C her mother¡¯s name; he must have seen that when she came to the Court. It¡¯s possible he could have forgotten, of course; he must see plenty of those papers. But he referred to the child as ¡®her¡¯, right at the end. So he did at least know that Silvi had a daughter. None of that is suspicious, of course, except that he seemed so agitated over it all. I wonder¡­¡± He sighed, frustrated, and went to stare out of the window.


    After a while, Alyn cleared up the tea things, and went to sit in the easy chair with her book. Apart from asking her to get the dinner, Miervaldis said nothing all evening. He wore a preoccupied look, shading to a frown every now and then, and glanced at Alyn from time to time. Eventually, she went to bed, frustrated at the lack of communication and feeling a little uneasy, for no good reason that she could see.


    In the morning Miervaldis said very little over breakfast. Alyn went to the lesson, hoping it would be Lord Anstable again. If she had to sit through something like that, better it was someone amusing. She was in luck there, but she very nearly didn¡¯t notice who was teaching. From the very first, when she walked into the room, there were funny looks and whispers. The pages had mostly stopped bothering her after that first time, and had become used to seeing her around, although apart from Pyrrhus, none had been friendly. Now, however, the looks were outright hostile, worse than they had been at the beginning. Sitting on her cushion, Alyn felt prickles running down her spine, and imagined little darts from the eyes of those behind. She glanced sideways to where Pyrrhus was sitting, hoping for a friendly face, but he quickly looked away. There was anger in his posture. What had happened?


    She had to wait for the end of the lesson to find that out. Pyrrhus tried to leave early, but she snagged his sleeve and hauled him back into the room as the other pages filed out. Several managed to sneak in a kick at her ankles or a jab in her side; gasping, she retreated into the room and away from the unfriendly contact. Pyrrhus followed, not resisting, but still obviously angry.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she demanded when the room was empty. He raised his eyes and glared at her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t know,¡± he spat. ¡°Everyone knows, so how can you not?¡±


    ¡°Knows what?¡±


    ¡°Knows who your lord thinks did the murder.¡±


    ¡°They do?¡±


    ¡°Stop pretending. You want to accuse my brother, at least have the courage to tell me straight!¡±


    Shocked, Alyn dropped his sleeve. He stepped back immediately, brushing his arm as though she had contaminated him. She wanted to say something, but what was to say? Kadir had to be a suspect, after all. The pause had gone on too long; Pyrrhus drew himself up, spat deliberately at her feet, and marched from the room.


    She stared at the empty doorway for a while, then pulled herself together and left, looking round rather nervously for an ambush. She didn¡¯t feel like braving the refectory after that, so headed back to the rooms instead, feeling miserable. It had to have been her conversation with Bensen that had started the rumours. There was nothing else that could have done it, especially so fast. And she knew Bensen was a gossip. She should have expected this.


    As she headed round the corner into the main corridor, she saw a familiar figure a little way down and froze. There in the middle of the hall stood the dark man, his back to her. He was talking to the chamberlain, who she thought had not yet seen her. She ducked back quickly, not wanting to come to either man¡¯s notice right now. Seeing the dark man brought back the worries that she had been ignoring, the memories of Byran¡¯s letter and the possibility that in all this, her lord was not the honest investigator he seemed but something much less noble. And that was made worse still because the Emperor clearly trusted him.


    Should I talk to him? Maybe just mention my concerns? He might laugh and tell me it¡¯s nothing to worry about¡­


    But although that was the outcome she would hope for, she knew she would never willingly speak to the dark man. He made her feel horribly uneasy, although he¡¯d never said or done anything to make her feel threatened. The logical part of her mind insisted that he made her feel uneasy because she knew she ought to do something about what she¡¯d witnessed. The rest of her mind didn¡¯t want to know.


    Conflicted and confused, she turned to a different route back to the rooms.


    Miervaldis gave her a new assignment over lunch, which was distinctly sparser and less appetising than usual. Presumably the kitchens had come down on Kadir¡¯s and Pyrrhus¡¯ side too. She picked at the old cheese and wilted lettuce morosely. He stood by the window looking out, drinking tea again; he hadn¡¯t touched his food at all. He spoke without turning round.


    ¡°Alyn, will you do something for me this afternoon?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord?¡±


    ¡°I want to know more about Silvi. It will probably take you a while, but please can you hunt through the Court records for anything mentioning her. All I found were her employment records, but anything else relating to her will be elsewhere ¨C it¡¯s not very well organised.¡± Alyn remembered that from her time poring over them. ¡°We know when she started and when she left, so that will give you something to guide your search.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± It beat going to the lesson, especially with the pages in such a mood with her. Alyn swallowed the last of the bread, left the remains of the cheese and salad on her plate, and stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll go now, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He still didn¡¯t turn round as she left, wondering what had him so preoccupied.


    To her immense relief, the Chroniclers seemed blissfully unaware of the gossip racing around the Court. She actually found that quite funny, that the main record keepers of the Court seemed oblivious to the rumour mills that churned in the day to day life of the community. The head Chronicler appeared to recognise her, too; he squinted down at her for a long time, then actually smiled slightly and beckoned her in. The assistant Chronicler ¨C she was beginning to think there was only one ¨C came over and showed her to the comfy chair where her lord had sat when looking over the records four days earlier. The books were still piled where he had left them, which helped; she could guess which pile he¡¯d been through. Feeling oddly cheerful in spite of the hours of probably fruitless work ahead of her, she started in.


    It was very late by the time she¡¯d finished, and she could feel herself nodding off over the last of the heavy record books. Her eyes felt gritty and tired, and the chair cushions were invitingly soft. Losing herself in the records had been weirdly satisfying, although she¡¯d barely found anything. Silvi had, apparently, been a model servant, working first in the general Court staff and then being promoted, as much as a general Court servant could be, to serving the uppers, the more visible and honoured servants. Alyn didn¡¯t know much about how serving worked, and it differed from Court to Court in any case, but in her home in Third Star Court it was considered quite significant to serve the butler or chamberlain, a much more distinguished position than simply being a general maid. If Silvi had been an upper servant, she¡¯d presumably been trusted and respected. Alyn wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn¡¯t, but maybe her lord would think differently. She was beginning to realise he did indeed think quite differently.


    She thanked the Chroniclers, feeling a little guily about the enormous pile of books she and Miervaldis had left them to tidy up, and walked back to the rooms, hoping there would be dinner there. She briefly entertained the thought of going by the kitchens, but she didn¡¯t really want to stick her head into a hotbed of gossip, and she didn¡¯t want to see Bensen, either. The windows she passed were all dark, and the stars were out, so it was well past dinner time anyway.


    She began to realise something was wrong when she rounded the corner of the corridor leading to their rooms and saw a knot of people crowding the door. There was a low rumble of noise coming from them, an angry sound, and someone was shouting, but she couldn¡¯t make out the words, only a panicked, high-pitched yell. Abruptly the crowd shifted and several guards emerged, marching a figure between them. A short, slim figure, dishevelled and shaking with either fear or anger, or both. To her horrified surprise, as the little knot drew near, she recognised Pyrrhus being marched away. He saw her, met her eyes and glared hotly at her, anger mostly masking apprehension. She flinched aside, horribly guilty, wondering what had happened. Was he the murderer? Had Miervaldis found something? Surely not!


    As the guards and their prisoner left, she turned back to the door and the gauntlet of the crowd. It was mostly nobles with a few guards, and the chamberlain was there too, ineffectively trying to keep order as they shouted and bickered with each other and the closed door. They all turned to look at her, standing alone in the middle of the corridor, and for an instant she felt like a rabbit does when it sees a hawk, and knows its fate.


    Then the door opened and Miervaldis stood there, dressed in stark black and wearing an expression she¡¯d never seen on him before, one combining cold anger and absolute authority.


    ¡°Alyn,¡± he said, and she scurried to obey on shaky legs. The crowd parted to let her through, and she didn¡¯t dare to say a word even though the questions had built up and built up in her head until it wanted to burst. You will be silent, she remembered him saying. And you will do as I say. Right now, any thought of disobedience was far, far away. She went into the room ¨C which was thankfully empty ¨C and waited, not even daring to turn round, while he stared down the crowd and then closed the door on them. Even that quiet click sounded icy cold.


    ¡°You¡¯re very late.¡± He didn¡¯t sound so angry any more, but his tone was still very tense, very controlled.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lord.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all right. Did you find anything?¡±


    ¡°No, my lord.¡± What had he done? Why had Pyrrhus been arrested? What was going on? Why were all those people there? What was going to happen?


    ¡°Alyn?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord?¡± The questions wouldn¡¯t come out; she clenched her teeth and shut her eyes. She heard him sigh quietly, and turn away.


    ¡°There¡¯s food on the table,¡± he said, from across the room. ¡°Get some sleep.¡± And then he was gone, his bedroom door closing behind him. Alyn spun round, saw the dinner, and felt suddenly both hungry and ill at the same time. She hesitated, then sat down to eat, but despite her hunger she stopped partway through, not wanting any more. She went to her own bedroom and pulled out Byran¡¯s letter, but stopped before opening it. The words would make it all more real, and she didn¡¯t want that. Closing her eyes, she lay back on the bed and wished for sleep.


    Her night was restless, half-sleep punctuated by hazy waking, waiting for and dreading the morning. When it actually came, she had finally dropped off properly, and the heavy banging on the main door jerked her out of her dream in a panic. She shook her head to clear it and it felt heavy, full of cotton wool, her thoughts slow to focus. The banging came again, and some shouting, words not audible through the door. She pushed the covers back and stood up, rubbing her eyes.


    Over the banging, she heard the adjoining door open. She knelt by the door and looked through the keyhole, just as she had done when Brenna had visited. She saw Miervaldis, still dressed in black, walking slowly towards the door. He stopped before he reached it.


    ¡°My lord, you are welcome to come in, but I would prefer it if you lowered your voice somewhat. My page is still asleep, and she worked a long day yesterday.¡± His voice was light, easy, as it usually was. A far cry from the cold, controlling tone he¡¯d used the day before.


    My lord? Who is it?


    The banging died down, and the voice, still raised, became a little clearer. Miervaldis shook his head, then stepped forward, out of her line of sight, to open the door. She heard the click of the lock, then the hasty footsteps of the visitor. He barged into the room and spun round, and she recognised Lord Isidor.


    Of course.


    Miervaldis came back into her view, and half-bowed, a neutral expression on his face.


    ¡°Will you be seated?¡±


    ¡°I will not!¡± Isidor spat. His whole frame was vibrating with fury. He was standing with his face partly towards her, so she could see the anger in his expression, along with what she thought was worry. ¡°I want to know why you had Pyrrhus arrested!¡±


    ¡°Pyrrhus was arrested because I believe he may have information pertaining to the events of two weeks ago,¡± Miervaldis said smoothly. Alyn puzzled at the odd phrasing. Why not just say ¡°the murder¡±?


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool, man! Look at him, there¡¯s no way he could have attacked someone like Jaquan!¡± Isidor stepped closer, and lowered his voice. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you, Lord Miervaldis. I don¡¯t like the way you¡¯re investigating this, and I don¡¯t want you here.¡±


    Alyn held her breath. The way Isidor stood implied violence, as though he wanted very much to attack her lord. Miervaldis drew himself up, almost imperceptibly; she was reminded again of his height. Isidor was not short, but Miervaldis could look down on hiim with ease. He knew what he was doing, she thought; he knew how to manipulate the situation with both his body language and his voice. Whatever Isidor thought, Miervaldis was entirely in control. That didn¡¯t make her feel any better.


    ¡°I have been charged by the Emperor to investigate this crime,¡± Miervaldis said, and his voice had changed, become cooler, less friendly. ¡°Pyrrhus has not been and will not be harmed; he has not been accused of any crime.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you holding him?!¡±


    ¡°I told you. I believe he can help me get information. Until I have that information, he will stay where he is.¡±


    Isidor spun about and stalked away a short distance, clearly very tense. Conveniently he was close to and facing Alyn¡¯s door, and she saw his face clearly. Anger was still present, but it warred with worry and guilt, and what she thought might be indecision. What did he have to decide? He turned back, away from her view.


    ¡°Pyrrhus can¡¯t have done it. And he won¡¯t know anything about it. He was with me.¡±


    ¡°Visiting the girls in Ellmore?¡± Miervaldis¡¯ tone was derisive. ¡°That¡¯s not what he said.¡±


    There was a pause. When Isidor spoke again, much of the heat was gone from his voice. He sounded cautious now, and his words came more slowly.


    ¡°If I said that Pyrrhus really was with me, but that we weren¡¯t in Ellmore, would you let him go?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s useful to know, but it¡¯s not the information I need.¡±


    ¡°Well, what do you need?¡± Isidor¡¯s voice rose again. ¡°What will make you let him go?¡±


    ¡°Better information than that, and preferably verifiable. My lord, I need to know what was going on! You don¡¯t seem to realise the situation.¡±


    ¡°The situation is that you have arrested my best friend¡¯s brother for something he couldn¡¯t possibly know anything about!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not his situation you should be concerned with,¡± Miervaldis said softly. Isidor hissed, a frustrated, bitter sound.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you,¡± he managed eventually. ¡°I can¡¯t betray a confidence. Why won¡¯t you believe me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not me you have to convince.¡± Isidor tensed and lowered his head as though fighting with himself. Whatever battle it was, and Alyn couldn¡¯t see his face this time, it was over quickly. He looked up again.


    ¡°Let him go!¡± he demanded, ¡°if you know he is innocent, let him go! This isn¡¯t right!¡±


    Miervaldis said nothing to that. Indeed, if Alyn guessed right, and he was hard to see from her angle, he actually looked away for a moment, as though he agreed with Isidor.


    ¡°Pyrrhus will stay where he is until I have the information I need, my lord. If you will not share that, then I can¡¯t release him.¡±


    ¡°You ¨C¡° Isidor bit off the word he had been about to say, turned round explosively and stormed towards the door. Alyn heard it slamming behind him. Miervaldis let out a long sigh, but didn¡¯t turn to her door, or call for her to come out. He walked out of sight, and she heard him sit down. She hesitated, then went to her chest and ran a comb through her hair. She¡¯d slept in her clothes, but didn¡¯t care about the rumpling right now. With some trepidation, she opened the door.


    He didn¡¯t look round, didn¡¯t ask her if she¡¯d overheard that or what she thought of it. She waited for a long moment, unwilling to break the silence, but all he eventually said when he did speak was:


    ¡°Please ring the servants for breakfast.¡±


    Breakfast was cold and silent. After she had finished picking over the bread and ham, Alyn sat where she was, unsure of what to do. Miervaldis got up and went to stand by the window. Without looking round, he said:


    ¡°You¡¯d better not go to the lesson this morning. It might not be safe.¡± His tone was normal, but too much had changed. Alyn didn¡¯t feel safe talking to him as she had done just the day before, so she sat tight and didn¡¯t look up. The thing she kept returning to, over and over again, was how easily he changed his manners, his character. His whole appearance, even. The man she thought she was serving, the careful, clever, trusted servant of the Emperor, the slightly odd, reclusive lord from Fourth Star Court ¨C was he the real Lord Miervaldis? What about the scruffy scholar who had gone so carefree into Ellmore to spend an evening carousing with the locals? And what about the man she had seen just now and the night before, the cold, controlling authority one didn¡¯t dare cross? And finally, what about the man she¡¯d been warned about ¨C not once, but twice, by her brother and by the dark man who worked, he had implied, for the Emperor? Was that the real Lord Miervaldis?


    She didn¡¯t know, so she stayed where she was and wondered what she was going to do, because sooner or later that would no longer be an option.


    Presently the servants came and cleared away the breakfast. One of them was Ythilda, who made some remarks about the morning weather. When Alyn didn¡¯t respond, the maid came closer.


    ¡°Is everything all right?¡± Alyn shut her eyes tight, breathed out, and opened them again.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said steadily. Miervaldis had gone into his bedroom and shut the door. She raised her gaze to meet Ythilda¡¯s, and smiled a little shakily. The maid looked concerned.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but thank you.¡±


    Ythilda glanced down, and Alyn became aware of her own appearance.


    ¡°Do you need some laundry doing?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± she admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t have anything ready right now.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you change, and give me your clothes? I¡¯ll put them in with tonight¡¯s wash, and they¡¯ll be ready in just a few days. Do it now, go on.¡± And she gave Alyn a little push towards her door. Alyn went obediently.


    The change into fresh clothes made her feel much better, although the uncertainty was still present. She handed her bundle to Ythilda.


    ¡°Thank you so much.¡±


    ¡°Does your lord need anything cleaning?¡±


    Alyn glanced over at the door, still shut.


    ¡°He might, but I wouldn¡¯t know, and I don¡¯t want to ask right now.¡±


    Ythilda nodded understandingly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get on with these, then. If you do have any more, just bring them down. You know where.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Alyn said again, and saw her out. Then she turned to survey the room, cleared of breakfast clutter and devoid of anything of interest. In the absence of a task, she went back to her bedroom and lay down, intending to nap and make up for some of the sleep she¡¯d missed last night, but unsurprisingly, the nap quickly became full-blown sleep, and her worries were left behind.

 Chapter 10

    Unfortunately for Alyn¡¯s sleep patterns, she was once again woken by a loud noise and an angry visitor. On this occasion, though, the noise came from within the main chamber, and both she and Miervaldis bolted from their rooms in shock. Horrified, she realised even as she stumbled through the door that she had forgotten to lock it behind Ythilda. The visitor was in the main chamber, and the noise had been an elegant vase, now lying in shards on the floor. Alyn cringed back against her door, wishing she¡¯d stayed inside and watched through the keyhole again. Miervaldis stood quite still, surveying the damage and watching the intruder.


    It wasn¡¯t someone she recognised, this man. He was tall and slender, quite young, with dark blond hair pulled back into a queue and an unfortunate attempt at a beard. His clothes were rich but not gaudy, well-chosen attire for his build and colouring. His brown eyes were ablaze with fury, and he was openly carrying a dagger, which he now thrust out towards Miervaldis.


    ¡°Lord Kadir, I presume?¡± said Miervaldis, voice quiet and unconcerned. Alyn gulped. This was Pyrrhus¡¯ older brother? How had he come here so fast?


    ¡°How dare you!¡± The dagger came closer, held in hands that remained steady despite the obvious emotion. Miervaldis stood quite still, his face guarded but apparently unconcerned. Kadir moved nearer, then his hand flicked and the dagger was reversed, so he grasped it by its blade. Alyn held her breath. For one lord to strike another with the butt of a weapon was considered a formal challenge in most courts. Kadir moved forwards quickly, like a hawk stooping, and Miervaldis turned to one side equally quickly, so that the hilt slipped past and made no contact. One hand came up to grasp it and the other closed over Kadir¡¯s outstretched wrist; a small movement, hard to see clearly, and suddenly Kadir was stumbling back, gripping his wrist with the other hand, and his dagger was in Miervaldis¡¯ possession.


    ¡°I will not accept a challenge,¡± Miervaldis said. ¡°I am here at the behest of the Emperor, and the course of my investigation will not be disrupted.¡± He bent and carefully placed the dagger on the table beside him, out of Kadir¡¯s reach.


    ¡°You ¨C you, how dare you arrest my brother! He hasn¡¯t done anything!¡±


    ¡°He has not been accused of murder. I believe he can provide more information than he has done thus far.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just a boy. What can he know? He has no connection with Lord Cassian or his scribe!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true, though, is it? He is friends with Lord Isidor, who was close to you. And he has ties to Cathecassa, Lord Cassian¡¯s estate. What is it he has done for them? Or - is it for you?¡±


    Kadir¡¯s face went purple with anger, where Alyn had thought it impossible he could look more enraged. She held very still, one part of her brain surprised that even now, she found Miervaldis more scary than the angry young lord who was threatening him. Kadir reached behind his back and yanked out another dagger, this one long and elegant-looking with a wicked point. The first one had been a normal dirk, the kind openly carried by lords and commoners alike, a useful tool. The one he now held out was meant for only one purpose, and he clearly intended to use it. He crouched for a second, reminding Alyn absurdly of the cats around her family¡¯s home, then leapt towards her lord, dagger moving forwards to his throat. Despite herself, Alyn shrieked. Miervaldis stepped aside and spun round, one hand reaching out to the dagger. Kadir swung it up so that the blade met the outstretched hand, but Miervaldis continued the motion to grasp it firmly. Kadir froze. Alyn gaped. Blood started to trickle down the blade to the hilt from where her lord held the blade. For a moment, they stood in synchronised stillness, then there was a loud, insistent banging on the door and it burst open. Alyn turned towards the new intruders and gasped with relief when she recognised the uniforms of the Fifth Star Court guards. They came in swiftly, took Kadir by the arms and relieved him of the blade. Then it all started going wrong, because instead of calling for the physicker to treat her lord¡¯s hand, they took him by the arms too. All in silence, without speaking once to either lord. While she watched, frozen in shock, they came for her too, and one guard took her by the upper arm, not ungently.


    ¡°My lord Miervaldis,¡± said one, at last. He faced her lord squarely, and recited his words carefully, as though they were a talisman. ¡°My lord, you are accused of behaviour unfitting your station, and are requested to present yourself before the Sun Court and answer to your liege.¡±


    Alyn jerked in surprise and the guard tightened his grip on her arm. The formal phrasing of the accusation made it seem a small thing, a slight misdemeanour, but for a lord to be accused of unfitting behaviour was one of the most serious situations there was. Worse than murder. Almost as bad as treason, for it meant that the accused lord had been neglecting his duty before the gods and the Emperor. Her mind flicked back to the trip into Ellmore, the reversing coat, the scholar¡¯s book in the carriage. Was that what was meant? Was this what the dark man had meant by ¡°untoward¡±?


    Now the guard turned towards Kadir. He can¡¯t have expected the younger lord to be there, but his words were no less measured and careful.


    ¡°My lord, you have been witnessed threatening and wounding a fellow member of the Court of the Sun Emperor. You must come with us for further investigations.¡± Kadir stood sullenly, head down, showing no sign of having heard the guard, but when they urged him towards the door he obeyed. Miervaldis also walked obediently in front of his captors, his face showing nothing. Alyn was pushed gently into line behind him, her head spinning. What had happened? Who could do this? Who would do this?


    A little voice in her head wondered, was this Lord Cassian¡¯s doing? It would make sense if the murderer were worried about the investigation, and he had plenty of power in the Court, it would seem ¨C enough that the Emperor himself had asked Miervaldis to investigate and exonerate him. Had Cassian been so worried? She remembered now that two days ago, when she had been tasked with gossipping with Bensen, Miervaldis had mentioned he was going to see Lord Cassian. He¡¯d said no more about it, but had that worried the unpleasant lord?


    It seemed a bit farfetched, but the arrest was at such a convenient time, and apparently unprovoked¡­ she turned it over in her head as the guards hurried them onwards, and she only stopped thinking about it when her guard yanked her to a stop, and she realised they¡¯d arrived.


    They stood in a small group in the stableyard. It was mid-morning, but the sun was hidden behind grey clouds. It wasn¡¯t quite raining. There was a dark grey coach standing in the middle of the yard, with four horses already harnessed and a groom standing by, face grave. It looked ominous. There were no windows, but there were four seats for guards in front and behind, as well as for the driver. Eight guards stood about it, dressed in Sun Court livery.


    Miervaldis was led forward and ushered into the grey coach. He went quietly, without looking behind. Four of the Sun Court guards got in the coach with him and the other four mounted the external seats of the coach. The driver flicked his whip, and the horses moved off in unison. Alyn watched as the coach rumbled smoothly away. It seemed too quick, too sudden. Too easy. Was he just gone, then? What was going to happen to him? To her?


    The guards must have known, though, because they started off again, her guard tugging her arm to get her moving. She followed, dazed, only peripherally aware of Kadir walking in front of her. It started to rain as they entered the court again, in big fat drops splattering over the cobbles.


    A few minutes later, she was pushed gently into a room, and the door shut behind her. She made a few paces in, then looked around. There were four blank walls, with one door which she heard them locking. There was a bench in one corner with a blanket. It had to be a cell, she thought, as she sat down on it. What would they do with her? She¡¯d known, once, what happened to a page whose lord had been accused of a major crime, but she couldn¡¯t remember what her instructor had said. She puzzled over the matter for some time, trying to recall the words, the phrasing ¨C even the instructor himself. She remembered sitting in the lesson, Miraina looking bored on her right, doodling little pencil sketches in the margin, but although all that was clear in her mind, nothing else came into focus. In time, she abandoned the attempt and lay down, falling into a kind of open-eyed doze, a numbness that wasn¡¯t sleep and wasn¡¯t waking.


    She came to her senses when the guard came back into the room. She hadn¡¯t been paying attention, but she didn¡¯t think it had been long since she¡¯d been left there. He wore a professional expression and carried a bag-like hood, which he placed carefully over her head before ushering her before him, guiding her with one hand on her shoulder and one on her arm. She stumbled along a corridor and up some steps, then his hands showed her into a room and pushed her down, gently, so that she sat on a chair she hadn¡¯t realised was there.


    ¡°Alyn,¡± said a voice that sounded familiar. ¡°Please don¡¯t be alarmed. We just want to ask you some questions.¡± She frowned, trying to work out who was speaking. Where had she heard that voice before?


    ¡°First, can you tell me who you have been serving?¡±


    ¡°Lord Iarlaith Miervaldis of the Fourth Star Court,¡± she said obediently.


    ¡°Good. And how long have you been serving him?¡±


    ¡°Since harvest last year.¡±


    ¡°And you served him frequently?¡±


    ¡°No, I never saw him until two weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°And what happened then?¡±


    ¡°He summoned me to attend him to Fifth Star Court.¡± This all felt very rote, as though it was a lesson she had learned. The voice coughed slightly, then went on.


    ¡°Why was he visiting Fifth Star Court?¡±


    ¡°Because he had been asked to investigate a murder.¡±


    ¡°Asked by whom?¡±


    ¡°By the Sun Emperor.¡±


    ¡°And did you hear the holy Emperor say so?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°So who told you?¡±


    ¡°My lord did.¡± Alyn felt a twinge of unease. It had been only Miervaldis¡¯ word, after all. But there had been the coach¡­


    ¡°And when you got here, what did your lord do?¡±


    ¡°He asked people questions.¡±


    ¡°And what did you do?¡±


    ¡°I accompanied him and went to lessons.¡±


    ¡°I see. Now, did you see your lord do anything¡­ strange?¡± And with that pause, Alyn knew the speaker. Although the words were different, the feeling was identical; she was almost certain that this had to be the dark man. That meant there was someone else in the room, because he already knew all this, she was sure. She tried listening harder, wondering if she could detect another person.


    ¡°Alyn?¡±


    What should she answer? He had done plenty of strange things¡­


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, because she¡¯d left it too long to say anything else.


    ¡°Can you tell me what he did?¡± Was there excitement in his voice? She thought quickly.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t go to the evening meals except once. He always ate in his room.¡± That counted as strange, she hoped.


    ¡°Anything else?¡± the voice pressed.


    ¡°He never dressed up. He always wore the same old things.¡± That made her sound like her sister, she thought, but maybe that was for the best.


    ¡°Anything more? Think very carefully, Alyn.¡± She did so, turning Miervaldis¡¯ actions over and over in her mind, shying away from the obvious as though her interrogators might read her mind and learn about the scholarly book, the reversible tunic, the visit to the Proverb in the Hand.


    ¡°We went to Ellmore and ate lunch once.¡± There was a muffled breath which she thought might be frustration. She hoped it was.


    ¡°Did you hear what your lord was accused of?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Did you understand what that means?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± Would it work if she played stupid?


    ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°It means he¡¯s not behaved as a lord ought.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what sort of things that might include?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said a second voice, and Alyn felt her heart leap. She was right; there was another person in the room.


    ¡°But ¨C¡° said the first voice, the one she thought was the dark man.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s enough. I won¡¯t have you putting ideas into the girl¡¯s head. If she knows anything, she¡¯ll tell someone, won¡¯t you, Alyn?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she said obediently.


    ¡°And you don¡¯t know anything else?¡± went on the second voice.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± she lied, and hoped they wouldn¡¯t notice. There was a pause, and she felt her heart hammering a rhythm of fear and odd exhilaration.


    ¡°You will be taken back to Fourth Star Court,¡± the second voice said eventually. ¡°You can continue with your studies there.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± she said again. The guard¡¯s hand came down to her shoulder again, urging her up from the chair. She stood up, a little shaky, and bobbed her head to where she thought the speakers were, then obeyed the guard¡¯s hand and walked before him back to the cell where he removed the hood. She sat down on the bench again, but this time, her mind raced over what she had heard and surmised. That had to have been the dark man, and he still wanted her help to accuse Miervaldis. But why? And why arrest him now, what had he done that had provoked him? Could it really have been at Lord Cassian¡¯s behest? Was the dark man really from the Emperor? Who was playing the double game here, Miervaldis or the dark man? Or ¨C the notion shocked her ¨C the Emperor himself?


    The thoughts were still tumbling over and over in her head when the guards came back, wearing more friendly expressions. They ushered her to the door rather than tugging her, and walked her back to the stableyard without talking, but with a more amiable silence than before. She trotted between them, glancing around, but none of the few members of the Fifth Star Court she saw would meet her eyes. They turned away from her and from the guards as though unwilling to acknowledge even their existence.


    It was raining properly now, and standing in the downpour was a modest coach she recognised, with her small chest looking lonely on its luggage platform. Sure enough, when she climbed in, she spotted the Sun Court insignia on the sides. She sat down and the guard closed the door behind her but didn¡¯t get in. The coach started moving, and she realised she was going alone, unaccompanied. All the way to Fourth Star Court? She stuck her head out of the window as the coach rolled out of the yard, but there was no-one there. Not even the guards had stayed to see her off.


    It was a very different journey to the one she had taken with her lord, but equally fast. After some time had passed the rain eased and the sun came out between the ragged clouds, so that she knew it was the afternoon. With that knowledge came hunger, but almost at the same time, the coach approached the way-station they had stopped at before, and while the horses were changed, the driver passed her some bread and cheese.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, but he just nodded and took up his station again, shaking the reins to encourage the new horses back onto the road.


    She lost track of the time in the end, not even registering the crossing of the Voront that had intrigued her so during the outward journey. They had started out much later in the day, so it was well past moonrise when they reached Fourth Star Court, and she was nodding sleepily as the coach pulled up. She half-heard the voice of the driver saying something to the stablehands who had come out to meet them, then the door opened and one of them was talking to her.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Come on, lass,¡± he said. ¡°We better get you back,¡± and she stumbled out of the carriage and followed in his wake as he led her to the pages¡¯ dormitory. He pushed her gently into her own room, which she vaguely recognised, and put the chest down before closing the door behind him. Alyn sat on the bed and looked around dully. It felt like it was all a dream, but the bed was soft and she was tired, so falling asleep seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do.


    She was woken by sunlight flooding her room and the birds singing brightly in the branches of the orchard trees. It was all sweetly familiar, and for a moment as she sat up, the events of the past two weeks seemed like some strange fiction, a daydream. Then she saw the chest still in the middle of the room, and realised she was still fully dressed, and it all came back to her with crushing reality. She scrambled from the bed and opened the chest; her things had been tossed in any which way, and her clothes were all crumpled, but that wasn¡¯t what concerned her now. She burrowed to the bottom, scrabbling desperately among the cloth until she felt the dry paper of her brother¡¯s letter, and breathed out in relief. Perhaps they had read it, but she didn¡¯t think so. It was safe. Not that that meant her lord was, of course. Or was he her lord any more?


    She chewed that notion over in her head as she removed the letter and stowed it inside the unused fireplace, somewhere she¡¯d long been using as a safe box. If Miervaldis was accused of such a serious crime ¨C if he were actually found guilty, and she found that unpleasant to think about ¨C presumably he wouldn¡¯t be her lord any more. Did that mean she wasn¡¯t supposed to be loyal to him? Had she really been loyal to him? He¡¯d never known about her doubts, her worries, but those surely weren¡¯t appropriate for a loyal page to hold. She slumped back onto the bed, worried anew. What was she supposed to say now?


    ¡°Hey!¡± She looked up as the door opened and Miraina stuck her head in. Her eyes were glowing and her face alight.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Miraina came in, closing the door behind her. ¡°Go on then,¡± she said eagerly. ¡°Tell me all about it!¡±


    An hour later, the two girls made their way to the little refectory that served the Fourth Star Court. Alyn found herself comparing it to Fifth Star Court and finding it more familiar and homely, but also slightly down-at-heel, like a pair of well-worn, comfortable shoes. Their path converged with several of the other pages, all making their way in for breakfast, and they called cheerful greetings to her. It had only been two weeks, but for her, it felt like much longer.


    Inside the refectory, she helped herself to porridge, jam, bread and cheese, and went to sit at her accustomed table with the other pages, where the questions began all over again.


    ¡°Where did you go?¡±


    ¡°Why? What happened?¡±


    ¡°Is it true there was a murder?¡±


    ¡°Do you know who did it?¡±


    ¡°Why did your lord go?¡±


    ¡°Where is he now?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s he like?¡±


    Alyn found herself simultaneously trying to talk, eat, drink and laugh, and eventually had to choose which to do before she choked. Somehow, she managed to finish breakfast and satisfy everyone¡¯s curiosity before their first lesson was due. That was an odd feeling ¨C back to normal lessons?


    ¡°Who¡¯s teaching now?¡± she asked Miraina as they walked back to their rooms to fetch their writing things.


    ¡°Lord Evernar. Tristin¡¯s lord.¡± Alyn recognised the name of the page, if not the lord. She fetched her writing things from the room and followed Miraina to the East pavilion, to one of the top rooms. The morning light flooded through the big windows, picking out the faded detail in the old hanging tapestries, gleaming off the old but well-polished brass candlesticks, and temporarily blinding her as she stepped through the door. Miraina nudged her to a cushion.


    Lord Evernar was a tall, slim, fashionably-dressed lord, who spent two hours talking vaguely about the duties of a lord to his people. Something seemed to be making him uncomfortable; he kept changing his examples halfway through giving them, which made the lesson confusing to follow. Miraina seemed as confused as Alyn did, and said at the end of the lesson that it had been a complete change of topic from last time.


    ¡°I mean, complete,¡± she said, as they made their way back to the refectory, stopping to wash their hands at the pump in the yard. A spider scuttled over the stones as Alyn put her things down and stepped up to the stream of cold water. ¡°Last time,¡± Miraina went on, ¡°he was talking about the fine manners of the eastern courts, and where they originated.¡±


    Alyn shrugged, shaking the water from her hands.


    ¡°Maybe he got bored with that,¡± she offered. Miraina made a rude noise.


    ¡°Him, get bored of talking about manners and etiquette? I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    There were more people than usual in the refectory, but it only became clear that something odd was going on when the First Sage entered the refectory along with a finely-dressed noble she didn¡¯t recognise. Most of the others did, however ¨C there was a near-immediate hush, and those standing made obeisance. Alyn copied Miraina, realising from the form of the courtesy that this had to be the First Lord of Fourth Star Court. The First Lords represented their Courts in the Sun Court itself; although any lord could attend the Sun Court if they desired, it was considered important that at least one lord from each Star Court attend, and the appointment was a prestigious one.


    The First Lord of Fourth Star Court was an elderly man with a sharp face and neatly-arranged white hair. He cast a long look over the crowd, then nodded slightly.


    ¡°My lords and ladies, pages and servants,¡± he said, and his voice carried well, ¡°I have an important notice from the Sun Court. I would request your attendance, and that of every member of this Court, in the chapel one hour from now.¡± Then he nodded to them all, turned and left. A low buzz of chatter sprang up as the door closed behind him and the Sage. Miraina turned to Alyn.


    ¡°Is this about your lord?¡±


    ¡°It might be,¡± Alyn said, feeling uneasy. She hadn¡¯t told anyone what had happened, only that she¡¯d been sent home ¨C which had been met with good-natured derision and joking suggestions that she hadn¡¯t been serving properly. Was this about Miervaldis? What had happened?


    An hour later, the entire population of Fourth Star Court squeezed itself into the chapel. It was a much smaller chapel than that belonging to Fifth Star Court, of course, but then there weren¡¯t so many people, and they did all manage to get in. The First Lord and First Sage stood at the front on the dais, and when the last page had managed to edge in, the doors were shut and the First Sage led them in a quick Paean, then a Supplication, not one of the standard ones. He asked for wisdom, insight and the justice of the gods in every heart and mind. The words left Alyn even more afraid of what was about to be said.


    The First Lord stepped forwards after the Supplication and the whole chapel seemed to hold its breath.


    ¡°My lords, ladies, pages and servants,¡± he said, just as he had done before, ¡°thank you for attending me this afternoon. I¡¯m sorry to have to say this, but my duty here is to inform you that Lord Iarlaith Miervaldis is standing trial at the Sun Court. He has been accused of behaviour unfitting his station, and the Emperor has decreed an investigation be undertaken to determine whether the accusation is true.¡±


    There was a long pause, then heads began to turn to Alyn, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Alyn felt paralysed by the attention and the First Lord¡¯s words. She should have expected it, but somehow, hearing it here, in Fourth Star Court, made it so much more real. She realised she had been expecting Miervaldis to show up in a few days, having quickly sorted out the accusation at the Sun Court. Wasn¡¯t he supposed to be friends with the Emperor? If he was¡­ if he was, then the accusation must have some grounds in reality, since surely the Emperor would not want to preside over the trial of a friend! She shivered. Would she have to go to the Sun Court herself?


    ¡°I would like to speak to Alyn Vanyasdotter in my chamber, please,¡± the First Lord continued. Alyn jumped. ¡°You may all go. Thank you for your attendance, and please, I would ask that you be discreet when speaking of this.¡± He stepped back, and the First Sage came forward to speak the Dismissal. After he¡¯d finished, there was an immediate flurry of talk as people whispered excitedly of what had been said, and what hadn¡¯t been. Alyn stood as though frozen, feeling eyes on her from all sides. Solicitously, Miraina took her arm.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she hissed in Alyn¡¯s ear. ¡°You have to go to his chambers now!¡± Alyn started, and led herself be herded away.


    The chapel in Fourth Star Court was part of the Court itself, unlike the one in Fifth Star Court, which stood separately. The First Lord¡¯s chambers were conveniently close by, but Alyn wished they were on the other side of the Court. She felt totally unprepared for this. Miraina knocked on the door for her, and shoved her through when it opened.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± she whispered after her. ¡°Good luck!¡± The doors closed, and Alyn stood numbly before an elderly, very distinguished-looking servant, who was clearly waiting for her to say something.


    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m Alyn Vanyasdotter,¡± she managed. ¡°The First Lord asked to see me.¡± The servant gave her a very long look, then made the appropriate obeisance to her. It felt, somehow, like he was doing her a favour. Then he turned, urging her to walk behind him. He had more poise, more elegance to his carriage and his manner than Lord Miervaldis had ever shown, despite his status. Alyn followed him, cowed.


    The inner chamber was richly decorated and surprisingly small. The First Lord was seated behind an enormous desk of dark wood, covered in various papers. He looked up as Alyn was shown in. The servant performed an elaborate obeisance with careful solemnity, then made his way out silently. Alyn made her own obeisance as carefully as she could, somewhat different from the servant¡¯s due to her own rank, but felt as she finished that she had not managed half the respect he had shown. The First Lord dd not seem offended, thankfully.


    ¡°Alyn. You were page to Lord Miervaldis and attended him in the Fifth Star Court.¡± He paused, but it hadn¡¯t been a question, so she stayed silent. He looked down, then up again, eyeing her with an odd expression on his face. ¡°I can¡¯t go into the details because very little has happened yet. However, I do want to tell you that Lord Miervaldis has specifically declined to have you come before the Sun Court to present evidence at this trial. In fact, he asked me to reassign you to another lord as soon as may be possible.¡±


    The words felt like a physical blow, and Alyn flinched. He didn¡¯t want her. He didn¡¯t need her. In the face of so important a trial, he didn¡¯t want her there. She felt cold and miserable, and wanted to curl up there and then, but the First Lord was watching her carefully, with that same funny expression, so she did her best to hold herself steady and her face still, and not let any of the shock and misery inside show. After a while ¨C a long while, it felt like ¨C he went on.


    ¡°I just wanted to tell you that now, before anything else happens,¡± he said. ¡°In fact, your evidence may be needed. Lord Miervaldis can¡¯t overrule the Sun Court, and if they call for you then you will have to go. I will also not reassign you until the trial is finished; to do so would not be appropriate. But I did want to warn you now. Do you understand?¡±


    She didn¡¯t, not at all, but she made herself nod, and then say:


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± Surprisingly, her voice was steady, if quiet.


    ¡°Good. Then you may go.¡±


    She made obeisance again, then walked backwards to the door, not turning her back to the eminent lord because that would be rude. The door opened as she approached, and the elderly servant showed her out, face impassive. Miraina was waiting outside the door.


    ¡°What happened? Alyn, are you all right? What did he say?¡±


    ¡°He just said I wasn¡¯t needed right now, but I might be later,¡± Alyn said, trying to hold her voice steady. Miraina looked at her, concern written all over her face.


    ¡°Lessons are off this afternoon. Do you want to ¨C¡°


    ¡°I¡¯d like to rest, I think,¡± Alyn interrupted. What she really wanted was to be alone, but to say that would hurt Miraina, and it was true that she was tired. Miraina nodded understandingly, and went with her to the pages¡¯ dormitory, not saying anything else. As they walked, though, Alyn felt people watching her and caught snatches of conversations, phrases here and there.


    ¡°That¡¯s his page, right?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s never had a page before.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s never here, though, is he?¡±


    ¡°She can¡¯t care that much, she never saw him before two weeks ago!¡±


    ¡°¡­ doesn¡¯t look well.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s true?¡±


    The orchard provided a welcome screen from both the looks and the conversations. Miraina saw her to her room, and hesitated at the door.


    ¡°Do you want, I don¡¯t know, tea or something?¡±


    ¡°No thanks,¡± Alyn said, sitting down on the bed. ¡°I just want to sleep. I didn¡¯t get much last night.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Miraina nodded understanding. ¡°I¡¯ll be next door if you need anything, all right?¡±


    Alyn managed a smile for her friend, then flopped down onto the bed as the door closed. The world seemed very strange right now, as though it had been turned on end. She wondered if she was going to wake up back in Fifth Star Court, and find that this was all a dream. It certainly had that sense of surreality.


    She turned over and stared at the wall. Miervaldis had been arrested on what couldn¡¯t possibly be a serious charge. Yes, he did some weird things, but nothing concrete enough to stand under an accusation that serious. That meant¡­ that meant either that he had done something she didn¡¯t know about, or that someone had accused him in order to get rid of him. Was that at Lord Cassian¡¯s urging? Perhaps, but whoever it was who had made the false accusation, they had to be pretty sure of themselves. They must have something else to bring before the Sun Court to make such an accusation stick.


    Why had Miervaldis said he didn¡¯t want her? He¡¯d never behaved as though he thought her service was worthless. Or had that all been an act? She didn¡¯t want to think that, but she had to admit she didn¡¯t know the enigmatic lord half as well as she thought she had. It could have all been a charade. Well, she thought, flinging herself over to stare at the ceiling again, if that was how he felt, then she didn¡¯t care and none of it mattered at all. But if it wasn¡¯t how he felt¡­ had he refused to have her there because he was worried about her? Was that possible? Why would he be worried for her at the Sun Court? Or was it that he was worried her evidence would damn him further? That made more sense, although it didn¡¯t make her feel any better. Had she already made it worse? She remembered her brief interrogation at Fifth Star Court, her lies and half-lies. Should she have told the truth? Her conscience stabbed at her harder now. It had been all right to lie to protect him, she¡¯d felt then, but had she just made it worse in some way she couldn¡¯t fathom? That would be unbearable, but would she ever find out? She turned over again, and buried her face in the pillow. She wasn¡¯t crying, but she felt shaky and tired and as though tears were only a few more thoughts away. Rather than that, she let herself drift into sleep, a refuge against guilt and worries she could do nothing about.


    She slept all through the evening meal, but Miraina brought her bread and cheese and gossip.


    ¡°I saw the First Lord going,¡± she said, as Alyn ate. ¡°It was just after dinner, in a fast carriage.¡±


    ¡°He must be going back for more of the trial,¡± Alyn concluded.


    ¡°I suppose. I wonder when we¡¯ll find anything else out.¡± Miraina cast Alyn a speculative glance. Alyn shrugged. She knew nothing more, and didn¡¯t want to think about it anyway.


    Getting to sleep that night was not as hard as she¡¯d feared, and in the morning, bar a few curious looks, everything seemed as close to normal as it was possible to be. Alyn got up, washed, went with Miraina to lessons, had lunch, and then went to her archery lesson. In the first year, the only weaponry the pages learned was archery, unless their lord chose to teach them something else. The use of swords was only taught to second year pages, a decision Alyn had never really understood. She was quite looking forward to learning to use a sword, although she didn¡¯t envisage a life as a Swordmaiden.


    ¡°Did I miss much?¡± she asked, as they entered the big practice hall.


    ¡°Not really. Olver almost hit a hound that got loose and was running around the hall last week. It wasn¡¯t near the targets, but that¡¯s probably more dangerous with Olver.¡± Alyn laughed.


    They donned their gloves and arm protectors, and chose their bows from the collection of practice weapons, all well-used but well cared for. Alyn struggled momentarily with stringing hers, then managed it with a muttered curse as it pinched her fingers.


    ¡°All right, everyone to the back wall!¡± Lord Indar came in, carrying his own bow. It was a beautiful weapon, rich ash wood decorated with inlaid patterns, but he rarely used it, preferring to demonstrate with the common bows. Still, it was always with him. The pages all made their courtesies, and he nodded at them to straighten.


    ¡°We¡¯ll start with a warm up,¡± he said, as he always did. ¡°Three arrows each, four targets. On my count.¡±


    The targets were already set up, four straw bales in a row at the far wall. Alyn followed Miraina to stand behind two other pages in line for the far left target. Each page stepped up to the line, took three arrows, and, at Lord Indar¡¯s command, loosed them one by one. The pace was measured, and most of the pages kept up, although one or two still fumbled a little. Lord Indar didn¡¯t say anything, but Alyn knew he noticed.


    Her turn came, and she selected three arrows from the bucket and laid them across the bale in front of her, retaining one, which she nocked, and drew the bow, holding it steady, breathing calmly, waiting for the word.


    ¡°Loose,¡± said Lord Indar, as he had nine times before, and on her breath out, she aimed and fired. The arrow went pleasingly straight, thunking into the straw bale, and she grinned as she bent to pick up the next one.


    After the warm-up, the arrows were collected by the pages who¡¯d been first to shoot. Lord Indar gathered them all up and told them today they would practice shooting in the wind, since there was a good strong breeze. There were collective mumbles and sighs as they all trooped out of the hall and followed the lord up to the big meadow, where four more targets had been set up. Worryingly, these were actually human-shaped, and a lot thinner than the warm-up bales. Lord Indar explained at length how to compensate for the wind, demonstrating the effect of the wind on his arrow¡¯s flight. Then he had them all line up as they had done before, and try to hit the target. This took longer than the warm-up because he spent time with each page, having them shoot one-by-one. In between, all bows were downed and the pages collected their arrows to leave a clear target for the next archer.


    Finally, Alyn¡¯s turn came; she stepped up, and Lord Indar came to stand beside her as she aimed. The wind was blowing steadily across, so she pointed the arrow a bit to the side to compensate, as he had instructed them. He didn¡¯t say anything except, ¡°Loose!¡±


    She shot, and the arrow curved with the wind, whipping past the figure to hit the ground beyond. She hissed in exasperation.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Lord Indar said. ¡°You¡¯re not pulling as hard as I am, so you need to compensate more. Or pull harder.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Alyn said obediently, and aimed the next arrow further over.


    ¡°Loose!¡±


    This one hit, but only just. The last one made it to the chest, albeit at an angle.


    ¡°Well done,¡± Lord Indar said, and went on to the next student. Miraina gave Alyn a cheerful thumbs-up.


    After all four had finished, everyone laid their bows down and Alyn walked out with the other three to collect her arrows. She tugged the two successes from the target, then walked on and bent over to pick up the other, the one that had missed. As she bent over, she heard a shriek, and something hissed over her head. Almost simultaneously, she heard Lord Indar¡¯s angry shout.


    ¡°All bows down!¡±


    She looked over. Another arrow lay on the grass, some few hundred feet distant. Had someone been shooting at her? But who?


    She left that arrow, thinking it would be better not to mess with it, and hurried back to the relative safety of the group, wondering which idiot had been fool enough to mess with his bow. But nobody owned up, despite Lord Indar¡¯s long, angry rebuke which was directed at all of them because he didn¡¯t know who to blame, and as they all trudged back to the hall, chastened, Miraina whispered that she¡¯d seen nobody holding a bow at the time.

 Chapter 11

    Apart from the incident with the arrow, the next days were entirely normal - so normal, in fact, that Alyn almost felt as though the previous two weeks hadn''t happened. She went to lessons, gossipped and laughed with Miraina and the other pages, played games, and once or twice helped out at the stables. Two hours of mucking out meant she got half an hour with the riding horses. Half an hour wasn''t very long, but it was good enough, and she enjoyed riding the tall horses, feeling their spirit and responsiveness even just cantering around the big meadow.


    Three days after the arrow had nearly hit her, the messengers brought news. Every day except Holy days, they rode between the Sun Court and the various Star Courts, fetching and carrying messages and letters. Any letters or news from the Sun Court arrived the same day they were sent, and letters from one Star Court to another took only one more day to arrive. It was a fast, efficient system, but it was mainly valued as a source of unofficial news and gossip. The men and women who rode the fast courier horses were invariably inveterate rumour-mongers, and the same system which meant letters got to their destination so promptly meant gossip spread just as quickly.


    Alyn didn''t actually know when the messengers arrived that morning; most of the time, the pages only got to hear courier gossip first-hand if they were in the right place at the right time. Alyn, Miraina, and several of the other first year pages were in the kitchen that morning, scrubbing the floor and cleaning the walls of one of the smaller pantries as a punishment for trying to steal a bit of pie the night before. The gossip spread round the kitchen fast enough, but it took a while to filter back to where they were. Even a small Court had big kitchens, and even a small pantry took some scrubbing.


    "I''ll get more water," Alyn offered, standing back from the wall. A great deal of grime had come off with the pages'' work. Miraina, on her knees attacking the floor, grunted in acknowledgement. Alyn picked up both pails and staggered out the back door to the little kitchen garden where she pitched the dirty water over the cabbages. The pails were filled one by one from the water pump; she dragged the handle up and down, and the spout gushed water wheezily into the buckets. Despite the early start and hard work, she felt cheerful; it was a lovely day, and the pie had been worth it.


    She walked carefully on the way back, taking the steps one at a time, and easing sideways into the pantry, then carefully placing the buckets on the floor. Then she stopped. All three of her friends were standing watching her very carefully.


    "What is it?"


    There was no answer for too long. Then Miraina smiled, but it wasn''t a real smile.


    "Nothing," she said airily. "Thanks for getting the water," and she stepped around Alyn to grab a bucket and continue. The others followed her example, saying nothing. Perplexed, Alyn bent to get her own cloth, but it was gone. She looked around, frowning.


    "Have you seen my cloth?"


    "No, sorry." Miraina carried on scrubbing. Alyn looked harder, on the empty shelves and in the corners, but the pantry was bare and there was nowhere for a somewhat grubby cleaning rag to hide.


    "If it''s not here, why don''t you finish now?" Miraina said eventually. "We''re almost done, and it won''t take long." It felt deliberate, but Alyn could hardly argue with the logic. She stood still for a few moments longer.


    "All right," she said eventually. "Thanks. See you at the lesson?"


    Miraina made a vague noise, and the others were silent. Confused and upset, Alyn left. She walked through the main kitchen, where preparations for breakfast were well under way. The head cook saw her go, but didn''t acknowledge her; didn''t even ask if she''d finished or why the others weren''t with her, didn''t tell her that she should have learned her lesson. Feeling it far more than if she had had a stinging rebuke, she went back to the dormitory to get clean.


    Breakfast was equally strange. She was earlier than the others so she sat down where the first year pages normally sat, but although most of her year saw her as they filtered in, none of them sat near her. She didn''t see Miraina at all. After a lonely breakfast, the lesson was worse; Miraina was still absent and when she asked after her friend, she either got a brief ¡®don''t know,'' or no answer at all, just a blank stare. She gave up after a few tries and sat staring into space, hardly even noticing when Lord Evernar appeared. The pages all made obeisance, and she copied them, not thinking about it.


    "Be seated," Evernar said, and coughed. She looked up at him; he was dressed in fashionable green silks ruched around his waist. It looked oddly effeminate. He glanced down and met her eyes, then blanched and looked away. She frowned. What''s wrong with him?


    The lesson was supposed to be about the development of manners and the fine points of etiquette, but Lord Evernar appeared very distracted. He kept starting sentences and then trailing off without finishing, and there were several long silences where he just stared into space. After he had rambled for an hour and a half, he stopped himself suddenly in the middle of the topic, announced that the lesson was over, and hurried from the room before half the pages had managed to bow.


    Needless to say, Alyn couldn''t get any of them to talk to her. It was both very upsetting and really irritating, and so were the funny looks she got at the refectory at lunchtime. Again, no-one sat near her - and it wasn''t just the pages who were avoiding her now, it was everyone. Feeling like she had some hideous disease, she went back to her room after lunch, taking a long route by the back stairs to avoid people as much as possible. Was this how lepers felt? It wasn''t nice at all.


    In her room, she flopped down on the bed and thought. She knew what had to be wrong; one of the couriers had brought news of the trial, and something had happened to Miervaldis. She had hoped there''d be news sooner or later, and the fact that no-one would talk to her meant it had to be bad. Acknowledging it like that, even to herself, felt horrible; a heavy weight in her stomach, a foreboding pounding in her head. But not knowing was worse. Had he been stripped of his status? Exiled? Even - executed? That was a possibility, although she couldn''t bring herself to believe that would happen. Even, even if he had been sentenced, surely he wasn''t dead yet?


    But it had been five days since he had been arrested. That might be enough time.


    There was only one thing to do, and that was to catch the evening couriers. They weren''t as anticipated as the morning ones, so were usually easier for lowly pages to catch and gossip with when they arrived. They normally came several hours before sundown at this time of year, but that was a long time from now. Alyn scowled to herself, thinking. She didn''t want to go to the lesson and have everyone stare - or pointedly not stare - at her. She didn''t want to go anywhere with other people right now. In the end, she stayed in her room, not wanting to do anything and desperate for the day to pass. It was a very long, miserable time until the shadows lengthened, and she made her way down from the little dormitory, through the orchard and round the back of the Court to the stables and the coach yard. The couriers would come there for remounts, and the Court servants would wait with outgoing messages to exchange for any incoming. She tucked herself into a convenient corner in the yard, and waited.


    It didn''t take long; she''d judged the timing well, although she''d been early, unable to wait any longer. Less than half an hour after her arrival, she heard the clatter of hooves and two lathered horses cantered into the yard and pulled up short. The couriers both jumped down as the Court servant came forward with a small bag.


    "Just these," he said, and accepted the two bags the couriers brought. "Will you stay for food?"


    "If there''s any ready," said the senior courier, which was a courtesy; there was always food ready for the couriers. The servant nodded and hurried away with the bags. Two grooms had already come out to take charge of the weary horses, and one more man led two fresh mounts out. The couriers shook their arms and stretched. The older one said something to the younger and went off in the direction of the yard privy. The younger headed for the fountain, where he sat down and stripped off his coat, splashing his face with the water and yawning as he did so. Alyn judged it was the right time, and slipped out of her corner.


    "Oh, hello," he said cheerfully as she approached. "Are you waiting for a letter? Only the bags have already gone..."


    "No, actually, I was wondering what news there was." She tried for a light tone, as though it meant nothing to her.


    "Nothing since the morning, sorry." He made a face. "Everyone''s asking that..."


    "Oh, but I haven''t heard the news this morning," she said, then hurried on when he looked confused. "I was busy cleaning in the kitchen, and no-one will tell me what was said. I''ve been busy..."


    "Oh well," he said, ignoring the obvious flaws in her excuse in favour of a chance to show off. A very junior courier running the evening routes probably didn''t get to do that very often. Alyn sat down next to him and tried her best to look attentive rather than desperately worried. He leaned forward, with the grin of one who loves being in the know.


    "It''s news from the Sun Court, of course," he began importantly. "I mean, you know, right? Because it''s your lord who''s on trial?" Alyn started, horrified, then realised that by "your lord" he meant "a lord from your court", not "the lord you serve". Hastily she nodded, trying to cover her reaction, but he hadn''t noticed. "Well, they''ve been in session for days now and not a word from them, but yesterday we all found out what he''s been accused of."


    "I thought it was behaviour unfitting his station?"


    "Yes, yes, but there has to actually be an unfitting behaviour, you know? Like, I don''t know, selling something or whatever. Well, this is amazing. You''d never think it!"


    Alyn thought, get on with it, and tried harder to look intrigued.


    "He''s been accused of sorcery!"


    For a second, the words didn''t sink in. Then at first, she felt a flood of relief that the trial wasn''t over yet, he hadn''t been convicted. Then -


    "Sorcery? What kind of sorcery?" Her voice was indignant despite her efforts. The courier grinned at her, eyes alight.


    "Not just any old magery," he said grandly, "but ensorcellment!"


    Alyn sucked in a breath. It was bad enough to be accused of practising magic, something no lord should touch. It was worse to be accused of ensorcelling another person, something forbidden even to legitimate mages.


    "Who - who has he ensorcelled?" she managed, pushing the words out.


    "His page!"


    At that point the other courier came back and the boy jumped to his feet.


    "I better go," he said, brushing himself down. "It''s quite something, right?" He grinned conspiratorially and hurried off to look official by his new mount. Alyn stayed seated on the stone wall staring straight ahead, her head spinning and a heavy feeling in her stomach that was to her previous dread like a rock to a pebble.


    Miervaldis was accused of ensorcelling her. That was a crime punishable by the most extreme sentences. Miervaldis didn''t want her at the trial. The only way to disprove a charge like that was for a skilled mage to examine the ensorcelled person. If her lord didn''t want her there... then it had to be true. He had ensorcelled her? He had infiltrated her mind, her defences? She knew very little about magic, but that practiced upon another person without their consent, that was dirty. That was offensive to the very core of propriety. To think that he had done that..


    She shook her head violently. It couldn''t be true. How could it? When could he have done it? Ensorcellment was supposed to take a long time, because to penetrate the natural defences of the mind and coerce another person''s will couldn''t be done quickly or forcefully. He''d had two weeks in Fifth Star Court; they''d been together most of the time. Had he done it then? No, no, how could he have? She''d doubted him when she received Byran''s letter, she remembered; a properly ensorcelled person would never stray from absolute faithfulness. But maybe it hadn''t been complete then? She didn''t know, because she''d never thought she needed to know, and now she did need to know, she didn''t want to even think about it. Did that mean it was true?


    "Argh!" She bit back any more, jumped up from the fountain and ran through the back archway and out towards the orchard, paying very little attention to her surroundings. No wonder everyone was being so careful around her! What did you say to someone who had been ensorcelled? What did it mean for Miervaldis? An accusation like that meant death, if proved; there was no other guaranteed way to break the hold on the victim''s mind. Did that mean he was going to die, if he couldn''t prove himself innocent? If that was true, why not ask her to come to the Sun Court? Or was he hoping to get off lightly if nothing could be proved either way? Did the person on trial have the right to deny the Court evidence, if that evidence was in the form of his page?


    She reached the big meadow and continued running, the evening sunlight casting a long, slanting shadow behind her. She barrelled through the long grass at the end and reached the ridge, stopping when she got to the top, bending over and breathing heavily. She wiped her nose and realised she was crying. The tears glazed her vision and broke the golden-red sunlight into refracted sparkles.


    Suddenly tired, she sat down by the big tree that topped the ridge and made a distinctive silhouette that was visible from her room by the orchard. She leaned back against it and stared at the glowing sky. The questions kept coming. Had the First Lord known about the accusation when he''d spoken to her? She remembered him looking at her so oddly - was that why? Would the Emperor really let his friend be punished without pulling her in as evidence? Or was Miervaldis really friends with the Emperor? She only had his word - and the evidence of the little coach with the Sun Court insignia - to say otherwise. And to her now - quieter, more tired, and thinking more clearly, if also more slowly - that charge seemed all too believable. Lords weren''t supposed to do magic for the same reason they shouldn''t be practising a trade or craft; they were supposed to be working for their people, bringing their needs to the attention of the higher lords, or the Emperor himself. In smaller demesnes like her father''s, it was common for the lord to also work his own lands, but even then, that meant giving orders to the people who actually did the work. Lords mustn''t work; that was enshrined in the highest laws of the lands, both legal and moral. To work would be a betrayal of their people, their station and their Emperor, and thus a defiance of the gods. For a lord to do magic, well, that was even worse. That spoke of years of study, years of defying the law, years of ill intent. It would be like a lord practicing medicine, except where a physicker lord would presumably work to heal others, a mage lord would work solely for his own ends. That was what the law stated; magic led its practitioners astray and nourished selfishness and whimsy. Mages were tolerated because magic was necessary, but they were never trusted, and rarely liked. Magic-using lords - that was bad enough. But one who ensorcelled his page... that was an abomination.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    But Miervaldis was given to whimsy, given to curiosity. She remembered his book in the coach, his questions to the physicker and the stablemaster. His cleverness and control in Ellmore with Neirin and in the Court at the end, facing the crowds when Pyrrhus was taken away. If ever a lord looked like he might be a secret scholar, a secret mage, Miervaldis did.


    Thinking about him that way, though, reminded her of the morning when they''d eaten breakfast in silence, after Lord Isidor''s tirade at Pyrrhus'' arrest. She''d thought then that she had barely known him, wondered then which of his many guises was the real lord. And she''d doubted him - doubted his motives, his desires, his intentions. And doubted his loyalty. That had been the last day she had seen him, and she had doubted him.


    Nobody who had been ensorcelled would have done that.


    Suddenly relieved, she slumped back against the tree, tilting her head back to rest against the rough bark. It was getting cooler as the sun sank, and the light deepened and spread even as the sky darkened, but the weight of dread had gone from her stomach. She couldn''t have been ensorcelled, not unless he had botched it somehow, but that didn''t seem a plausible alternative. She didn''t know much about magic, but everyone knew ensorcellment practically enslaved one person to another, so much so that no criticism of the mage to the victim was possible, and there was absolutely no likelihood of the victim actually doing the criticism. A little doubt needled at her then - everyone knew, but was that really the case? After all, it was just what They said, the They who always said and always seemed to know. She didn''t actually know for sure if her conclusions were correct, but although the niggle remained, it wasn''t enough to weigh her down. Her mind still whirled with questions, but none that were so important any more, and she became aware how tired she was. It had been an exhausting day, both physically and mentally. She stared out at the setting sun, then closed her eyes. Just for a moment. The tree was oddly comfortable even with its heavy, knurled bark, and the grass was soft, and she was so tired.


    When she woke, of course, it was dark, and the moon had risen, a pale crescent giving very little light amid banks of cloud. The knurled bark wasn''t comfortable any more, and her behind was numb. It was also cold; she shivered as she stood up stiffly and stretched. One leg had gone to sleep, and she hopped around the tree shaking it and biting back rude words as it tingled agonisingly back to life.


    She started back down the hill, stepping carefully in the wan moonlight. It wasn''t far to the orchard, but among the trees, now thick with leaves, she walked even more slowly, feeling in front of her for branches. They were visible, but only just, and only close up. She was concentrating so hard on not walking into any of them that she didn''t realise she''d turned away from the dormitory cottages and was walking towards the main Court itself until she emerged from the orchards to be greeted by an ornate window. She stopped, confused, and turned back - and froze.


    Over by the dormitory, there was someone sneaking through the door. A slender, dark figure, moving with assurance. Somehow, though, she knew it wasn''t a page, someone who had a right to be there. It looked furtive, sinister. She tried to tell herself that she was being stupid, but instinct and fear fixed her to the spot. The dark figure slipped through the door and closed it behind itself. Alyn breathed out quietly, and only then realised she was standing against the pale stone of the Court wall and was probably quite visible. Hastily, she scurried back to the orchard and hunched behind one of the larger trees, hoping she blended in. She looked at the dormitory, but it was all dark.


    After about ten minutes, the door opened again. Alyn''s stomach lurched, and she felt cold all over, but the figure that emerged just glanced around and moved off in a casual fashion. It was the same figure, though, that she was sure of. She waited until the moon had begun to sink towards the paling horizon before going back in, but during all that shivery, tired time, there was no movement and no threat from the dormitory, and the mysterious figure did not reappear.


    Eventually, she braved the open ground between orchard and building, slipped through the door and hurried up the stairs to her room, her spine tingling. Inside, she bolted the door, then lit the lamp, her fingers fumbling. The light it cast over her little room was reassuring, but only for a moment. Then she caught her breath as she realised - the room had been searched. It had been done carefully, but there were things that had been changed, things that weren''t where she had left them. The bedclothes, which she had tucked in neatly, were pushed aside, and the pillow had been shoved into the corner. The rug was rucked askew, and the window was ajar where she had left it locked shut against the birds that sneaked in to steal food and shiny things. All of a sudden, the room seemed horribly unsafe, no longer a refuge. She hastily locked the window again and checked the door was bolted, then sat down to try and gather her thoughts.


    Her lord was accused of ensorcelling her, which had to be a lie (she resolutely ignored the little voice that said maybe it''s true). He didn''t want her to come to the Sun Court - but that didn''t matter, so she put that thought aside too. If she were to come to the Sun Court for examination, it would be shown that the accusation was false. So whoever had made the accusation - and she thought Lord Cassian a likely candidate - would want her kept away from the Sun Court. In fact, whatever Miervaldis insisted on, she thought the accuser would have expected her to be called before the Court, and so must have expected the accusation to be rejected. In which case... she caught her breath. In which case, either it was enough simply to delay her lord and tarnish his reputation with this trial, or they had some way to deal with her evidence.


    Given the events of that night, and what had happened a few days before, she could guess which option was more likely. Perhaps it was paranoia, but she didn''t really want to wait around and find out. And with that conclusion, her resolve came quickly and clearly. She had to go to the Sun Court. Whether or not Miervaldis wanted her there, her evidence was the only way the accusation could be properly dealt with. If her guess was wrong, then her evidence would still be useful, but if it was right, it would be safer to go than to stay. And if... and if the accusation was true, then going to the Sun Court was the only way she would be freed.


    She stood up, looking around. She wasn''t going to need much, but she made herself think clearly. She packed a change of clothes, thinking it might be wise to have clean clothes to appear before the Sun Court. She didn''t have any food, but she did have a small flask, which she could fill from the stable well. She had no weapons at all, and no way to get one easily; the Fourth Star Court weapons were kept securely in a small room inside the training hall, and it would be locked, she knew. Shrugging, she put her small bundle inside a cloak, wrapped it round and tied it up in the traveller''s fashion, so as to leave loops to put her arms through. The flask she hooked to her belt.


    Then, trying hard to breathe easily, she unlocked her door, doused the lamp and sneaked down the stairs and back into the orchard.


    Although she kept looking around all the way, Alyn didn''t see anybody else on the walk to the stables. Certainly, there was no sign of a stealthy, black-clad assassin. Putting it that way, even in her mind, made her wonder again if she was being paranoid, but then, it still made sense for her to go to the Sun Court.


    The coach yard was also deserted, and she filled her flask from a bucket left by the well before sneaking into the main block itself. She had wondered if one of the grooms would be awake and on guard, but there would be no reason for him to be, and she knew they slept above the stables anyway. They''d notice a major disruption. She just had to move as quietly as possible.


    She stood for a moment inside the stable to let her eyes adjust to the dimness, then moved towards the stalls. The first horse was too tall, a leggy dark bay with a rolling eye, but the horse beyond looked more reasonable. She recognised both as the courier horses the evening messengers had ridden in on. Good; that meant they were fast. She tiptoed past the shifty bay to the grey mare in the next stall, who put her head out to be stroked. Alyn made friends with her quietly, then noted the stall number and went to the tack room that served that stable block. The mare''s saddle and bridle, thankfully cleaned and ready, hung on the appropriate rack. She put the bridle over her shoulder, careful to loop the reins out of the way, lugged the saddle from the rack and staggered back to the stall, where she managed to haul the saddle onto the low dividing wall without making much noise. The mare pricked her ears forward with interest as she opened the stall door, and made no fuss about being bridled. Alyn saw her name had been embroidered onto the headband, the letters woven into the decorations. She squinted to read it: Cloud.


    "Cloud, hmmm?" she murmured to the mare, and rubbed the soft nose again, wishing she had apples or carrots. Then she ducked under the horse''s neck to pull the saddle from the wall and ease it onto her back, smoothing it down and checking the girth to make sure it hadn''t snagged her skin. Cloud stepped sideways and tossed her head.


    "Easy," Alyn muttered, hoping the horse wasn''t going to start playing up now. She picked up her bundle and put her arms through the loops again, then turned to lead the mare from the stable and stopped. There was someone standing in the main door to the yard.


    "Where are you going?" Miraina''s voice asked, and Alyn felt her stomach lurch in relief.


    "I''m going to the Sun Court," she said quietly. "I want to give evidence."


    Miraina cocked her head and frowned, although Alyn could only dimly make out the expression.


    "Why?" she asked. "Surely that will mean Miervaldis is convicted?"


    "Not if he''s innocent," Alyn said firmly, although the thought made her heart sink. Cloud, impatient, shoved her nose into her back, and she jumped forwards. Miraina didn''t budge.


    "You think he is because you''re ensorcelled," she said, although there was doubt in her voice now.


    "I might be," Alyn said. "But surely it''s better if I go? Whether he is innocent or guilty, he will be proved to be so."


    "He doesn''t want you there."


    "I don''t care." Briefly, Alyn thought she saw Miraina''s expression change again. Presumably going against a direct order was also not what an ensorcelled person was supposed to do. "Please let me go. I just want this all to be over." She wondered about voicing her suspicions, and then thought that would just make her sound even more unbalanced.


    "You''re not supposed to go to the Sun Court just like that," Miraina argued, but Alyn knew she''d won. Every time her friend felt like she was losing an argument, she''d pick some silly rule to try and bolster her case.


    "This is special," Alyn said, taking a risk and walking forwards. Cloud came willingly, almost dancing. The mare''s hooves made muted thuds against the straw-covered floor, but they would be louder on the stable cobbles, she realised. As she had hoped, Miraina moved aside for her to pass. Alyn looked at her, and saw the worry in her face, the indecision. She hesitated, but couldn''t think of what to say. There wasn''t really anything to say that could make it better, so in the end she said only, "thank you."


    Cloud''s hooves did clatter in the yard, and Alyn tightened the girth and mounted as quickly as she could. Luck was with her, and none of the grooms poked their heads out of the loft to check what was making the noise. She urged the eager horse towards the gate, looking back only once. Miraina was standing by the arch at the other end, ready to return to the dormitory, she hoped. She negotiated the gate, which was only bolted, then raised a hand in farewell, but by then her friend''s figure was no longer visible.


    The sun would rise in an hour or two, and Cloud would be missed even if she wasn''t. She walked the mare from the yard lane to the road, the same road that she and Miervaldis had driven along almost three weeks ago on their way to Fifth Star Court, and finally gave the mare her head.


    Cloud had a lovely smooth pace, and covered the ground fast. She clearly knew the road, and Alyn hardly had to do anything except stay on, which wasn''t difficult. The dawn chorus erupted around them as the sky gradually lightened, the cloud cover becoming dove grey then shading to pale, pale pink in the east. Cloud''s hooves beat a staccato accompaniment, and here and there a startled bird flurried off the road with a scolding cry as the horse passed by. Alyn had plenty of time to think, and her thoughts wandered down paths that turned beneath her, until she was sure of nothing except that her being at the Sun Court would be a good thing. The whole trial made no sense. If the murderer wanted her lord out of the way, this was a stupid way to do it. Why make such a wild accusation? What on earth could it be based on? What had she done that could be suggestive of being ensorcelled? Even if she was prevented from testifying, without her evidence Miervaldis stood a good chance of evading the charge - didn''t he? Why not make a less crazy, more solid accusation, one that could be believed and not disproved so easily?


    She couldn''t make sense of it, and wondered if she was missing something - something she didn''t know that would swing opinion against Miervaldis, or some motive or reason for doing this that would make such a desperate accusation more plausible. And the nagging question kept returning; why did he not want her there?


    The sky ahead blazed pink and gold as the sun rose, and she pulled Cloud to a walk for a little, to let the mare rest. She took a drink from her flask, and wondered how much further it would be. The road stretched straight and clear behind and before, running between the tall trees she remembered from the last journey. They were thinning now, no longer a wall between the road and the fields either side, so hopefully it wouldn''t be long until they reached the junction, but she didn''t remember clearly. At least it was still the right road.


    The moon, a pale crescent in the morning sky and only briefly visible between clouds, had set before they reached the junction. The road was still clear of pursuit and any other traffic, and Alyn urged the mare past the changing station which she obviously recognised. Thankfully, she seemed willing to carry on, and nobody came out of the station to ask her business. Alyn chose to go north up the orbital road, remembering that the Sun Court was accessed by four roads, heading out directly north, east, south and west. The road from Fourth Star Court went mainly east but slightly to the north, because Fourth Star Court was to the south west of the land, although more west than anything else. She hoped she was right. She hadn''t noticed the road they should have passed on the way to Fifth Star Court, but she hadn''t really been looking for it. Now she alternately trotted and walked the mare to rest her, and watched carefully for any sign of the western Sun Court road.


    It was pretty obvious, in fact. There was a broadening of the orbital road, and a road just as wide and even better kept led off directly east; it had been visible from some distance away as a line of trees, although she hadn''t realise the trees stood on either side of the road until she got there. More than that, though, in the centre of the orbital road, directly opposite the turning, was a tall obelisk of polished black stone. On its top it bore a carved sun emblem, just to make it absolutely clear. Just beyond it, she recognised the sign for and entrance to a way station, which was thankfully not visible from where she rode.


    By this time it was early morning, but not so early that people weren''t about. She passed a wagon with a sleepy driver who barely noticed she was there, and several people stumping cheerfully along with large packs on their backs. They seemed to think she was a courier, which she supposed was understandable, but it made her feel guilty even as she returned their wave of greeting.


    Cloud ran readily on the Sun Court road, but she was clearly getting tired, and Alyn, not wanting to exhaust the mare when she didn''t know how far they had to go, kept walking her regularly, although the slow pace made her worried, and she kept looking behind nervously. The road went straight on between its guarding trees, and the sun climbed higher in the sky, and Alyn kept looking behind her, and then, suddenly, the trees stopped and Cloud walked out onto a broad grassy sward, and Alyn reined her in, staring up at the Sun Court in amazement.


    Where the Star Courts she knew were large clusters of buildings, both homes and places of work, the Sun Court looked for all the world like a gigantic ornamental garden. For all that she knew it was the administrative centre of the kingdom, she couldn''t conceive of any work being done in there. From where she had halted the mare, the outer Court walls were about half a mile away, comparatively low and surrounded by trees. Above them, the Court stood on higher ground, and consisted of an array of low buildings set well apart from each other, each one different but equally gracious. It extended for miles in all directions, with here and there a tall tower or elegant spire protruding above the roof tops and trees. From what she could see, the intervening spaces were gardens and courtyards, tended for hundreds of years, no doubt, and brilliant with colour now in the early summer. It looked like a beautiful palace, a place for the highest royalty to relax and spend a pleasant summer, not a place where life and death decisions were made. Not a place where the Emperor, the will of the gods on earth, resided and spoke.


    She urged Cloud forwards at a walk, still following the western road. Shortly, she came to a crossroads with a road that presumably ran around the Sun Court. Ahead of her, the western gate had come into view, tall and forbidding between two turrets, with closed doors. Of course, she couldn''t go in there. The western gate was for the army, not that there was one in the Sun Court at the present time. She could remember being told about the Sun Court gates by Byran when they had been much younger. From old, the western gate was the military gate, and kept solely for the use of the military, much as the eastern gate was kept for the Emperor himself and his family, and the northern gates for visiting foreign dignitaries. The southern gate was the general gate, open every day and used by everyone, commoners and nobles alike. She sighed, and turned Cloud to the right, watching the wall through the trees as the mare plodded south.

 Chapter 12

    In the end, it took another hour''s walking before she came to the southern gate. The road she was following dipped before her then flattened out to the left, and its even paving became ornate and decorated. Walls began on either side of the road as it dipped towards the hollow in the ground, and by the time they reached the gatehouse, they were ten feet high. The gatehouse itself was an imposing structure despite its lavish ornamentation, looming over the entrance road looking watchful and dangerous, a guard for the lovely palace inside. Alyn walked Cloud towards it, feeling a bit dwarfed. The road was clearly wide enough for several carriages at once.


    As she approached, a challenge rang out.


    "Name and purpose!"


    She reined Cloud in, and the tired mare let her head hang.


    "I''m Alyn Vanyasdotter of Fourth - I mean, Third Star Court," she called back, mentally kicking herself for the stumble. "I''ve come to testify at Lord Miervaldis'' trial."


    There was a long pause, then the response, which was better than she''d hoped for.


    "Wait there."


    A man came from the back of the gatehouse and hurried towards the palace. Alyn peered through, curious. The ornate road continued through the gatehouse and for some way beyond, before it crossed a small, pretty river. She couldn''t see beyond that. There were white poles either side of the road beyond the gatehouse, which she guessed were flag poles. There weren''t any more trees.


    In time the man came back, and ran straight up to her. Cloud fussed, wearily.


    "You''re to come with me," he said, making a perfunctory bow. Alyn scrambled down from the mare''s back, feeling that she shouldn''t be riding while her guide walked. He had already started ahead, and she hurried to catch up, pulling the mare behind.


    The guard led her through the gatehouse and over the river, and she saw that the poles were indeed flag poles, flying more flags than she''d known existed. She wondered what they all meant, although she did recognise the few individual Star Court flags she knew. After crossing the river the road ran up to an immense square yard; on the other side was a white building with low eaves and a wide doorway. Two guards stood by it.


    "Give them your horse," the guard said as they crossed the bare expanse of the yard, and Alyn patted Cloud before handing her over. She was a courier horse; she''d be well looked after.


    "Thank you," she whispered into the horse''s mane. Her guard was already walking through the building and she hurried to catch up. She realised as they came out the other side that it was just a corridor, a way through to the heart of the palace. The guard stopped her as she came through the big doorway, out into the sun again but into a smaller courtyard this time. There was a fountain splashing in the middle and clever arrangements of rocks and small mountain flowers all around the edge.


    "This way," he said, and led her to a small chamber to one side. "We have to make sure you''re not armed."


    Alyn submitted to the search, which was thorough but gentle. They wanted to take her bundle away, but she explained that it was fresh clothes, so they compromised and allowed her to get changed there, although they did insist she change her boots to a pair of soft white leather slippers they gave her. The guard exchanged his shoes for slippers too. She wanted to wash but there wasn''t a chance; she came out of the little room and her guard hurried her along again. He led her through several buildings, connected by open corridors so that she walked on polished wooden floors under a roof, but saw flowers, trees and statues in the courtyards on either side. She remembered one of her teachers saying that although the Sun Court was situated in the middle of the Star Courts, the first Sun Emperor had been from one of the southern Courts and his palace was modelled on the style of his home, hence the wooden construction and the large, airy halls. It was an attractive style for the summer, she thought, but did wonder how bad the winters were.


    Eventually the guard led her out into another big courtyard to face a big building with pillars all round it, one of the few buildings which had to be more than one storey and the only one she''d seen so far made of stone. It looked a bit out of place and somewhat ominous, although the stone was white and ornately carved. There were steps up to the enormous door, which was closed, but her guard took her up there, opened a little door in the big one and muttered something through it. Alyn waited, feeling like her fate had been taken entirely out of her hands. Then the guard beckoned her forward and she stepped through the little door.


    Inside it was dim, the walls covered in rich dark wood panelling with ornate carving on the rafters. She stood in an antechamber which was the width of the building, but only a few feet deep; in front of her was a wooden dividing wall reaching from the floor to the ceiling, which looked like it was the same height as the building. A corridor led through it, lit by lamps which illuminated the single door at the end; a smaller door, but still a scary one, she thought. She could hear now the rumble of voices debating, arguing... this must be the courtroom at last, and through that door her lord would be on trial. She felt shaky all over.


    There was a whispered discussion going on among the three attendants who had let her in; her guard had stayed outside. They eyed her up and down and the muttering went on for several minutes before one finally broke away and walked down the corridor to the small door. Alyn stared after but he didn''t actually go through, only talked to someone on the other side. There was a pause, then he beckoned to her.


    After a moment''s hesitation she walked towards him, flanked by the attendants. He gestured her on impatiently and opened the door for her, almost pushing her through. The noise was much louder now and she wondered how anyone could debate anything in such a racket. The door closed behind her and she looked around.


    The room was enormous, panelled in a rich red-hued wood and full of tiered seating. Tall windows punctuated the walls high up above the top tier of seats, letting in the midday light. The door actually came out halfway into the room - the corridor had been normal height and ran underneath some of the seating which was now directly behind and above her. There was also seating either side and forwards of the door and those lords noticed her arrival, though nobody else did. The noise was clearer now and she caught some of the words where before it had just been inaudible, angry rumbling. As far as she could tell, they were arguing whether it was possible to convict a lord without evidence. She could make out some of what was said, in snatches.


    "... can''t say anything without evidence!"


    "Yes, but this is different...."


    "... why not get the page, that''s what I say!"


    "You know he''s been accused before..."


    The last sentence made her heart sink. Maybe there was something that made a difference, something she hadn''t known. Hesitantly she walked forwards. In front of her was a tall, carved stage, perhaps as tall as the door she''d just come through, with steps leading up to it from either side and railings all around. A small gong stood on a stand to one side. Behind it a thin curtain, embroidered with fantastic, delicate patterns in gold and silver, divided off the rear portion of the stage, although she didn''t understand what it was there for. There were four people standing at the front of the stage; one was a lord she didn''t recognise and two were guards. They flanked the fourth person, her lord, Miervaldis. Despite everything, her heart felt lighter when she saw him, even though she hadn''t done anything yet. He looked tired, she thought, his face drawn. His expression and stance were hard to read, but she thought she saw a mix of irritation and worry. Then he looked down and saw her and it changed to pure horror.


    It was at that point that the racket began to die down as more and more lords noticed her. When there was silence at last, a herald dressed in elaborate green and gold livery stepped forward from the front ranks of seats.


    "My lords," he said in a nasal, carrying tone. "I present to you Alyn Vanyasdotter from Third Star Court, who until recently was serving as page to Lord Miervaldis of Fourth Star Court." Hastily, she made obeisance in the general direction of the stage, the form of one page to many lords, which was the closest to the situation she could think of. The herald stepped back and there was absolute silence.


    The unknown lord on the stage came forward to the railing and stared down at her. He looked important, she thought, and like he knew he was important; he wore deep blue velvets cut in what she thought might be the latest fashion and held himself very gravely. His deep voice carried clearly when he spoke.


    "Alyn Vanyasdotter, am I to understand that you have come here to testify against your lord?"


    "No, my lord," Alyn said, shocked into boldness. "I have come to give evidence. Whether it will be for or against him isn''t for me to say."


    A muttering rang through the hall, growing steadily louder until the important lord raised a small hammer and beat the gong. The high, sweet ringing was surprisingly penetrating and the noise died down at once. Alyn realised that the important lord, whatever his actual name, was the current First Judge of the Sun Court. Judges were chosen by the Emperor on a case-by-case basis. She wondered why this one had been picked and if he would be fair.


    "Well said," the First Judge declared. "You may rise." She did so, and he carried on. "I will put questions to you, and then those assembled may do so also, at my discretion. First, I must ask you your name and your family."


    "Alyn Vanyasdotter of Third Star Court. My father is Richal Vanyasdotter, who holds a demesne in the Bathurin Hills to the north-west of Tevium."


    "And do you, Alyn Vanyasdotter, pledge upon your honour, the honour of your family and the honour of your Court, to tell the truth before those assembled here?"


    "I do." Alyn felt slightly weak at the knees. The oath was familiar in form, but having to swear it before so many lords, and in the Sun Court itself, felt far too significant. The First Judge coughed and shifted his feet.


    "Then I shall begin. Where have you been for the past three weeks?"


    "At the Fifth Star Court, serving Lord Miervaldis."


    "Do you recognise your lord here?"


    "Yes," Alyn said, a little confused. "He''s standing to your left." Miervaldis was indeed, although he wasn''t looking at her. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. She wondered why he looked so dispirited. Had she made a mistake to come here?


    "Did he ensorcel you?"


    "No, my lord!" Perhaps that was too vehement, she thought, but she faced forward defiantly. The First Judge nodded slightly, and continued.


    "Did you see anything unusual in his behaviour while you were serving him?"


    "That''s hard to explain, my lord," Alyn said carefully. "I had not seen Lord Miervaldis before this period, so I wasn''t accustomed to his habits."


    "And that''s not odd?" called a voice from the floor. She resisted the urge to look around. The First Judge struck the gong and scowled. When its echoes had died, he spoke again.


    "Do you find that odd?"


    "I did, my lord, but it was explained to me."


    "I see. So what did you notice that was unusual in your lord''s behaviour?"


    "He never went to the evening meals," Alyn said, sticking to her words from before. The First Judge just nodded, so she continued. "He always wore the same old things. And once we ate in Ellmore as though we were just commoners." Another low muttering swept round the room, then a different voice was raised in protest.


    "I told you she''d say that! It''s clear she''s ignoring the other -" he broke off as the gong sounded, but Alyn barely heard it this time. Had it been her fault all along? Because she had refused to name the books, the tunic, the other visits to Ellmore as strange? Was that their evidence for claiming she was ensorcelled? But what could she have said before?


    "Alyn, can you describe your lord''s over-tunic to me," the First Judge asked gravely. She swallowed.


    "It''s dark grey on one side, my lord, with red edging," she said steadily. "On the other side, it''s plain blue and worn."


    "What do you mean by ¡®the other side''"?


    "It''s reversible, my lord."


    "And that does not seem odd to you?"


    That was the important question. Alyn looked up and met his gaze briefly.


    "It did, my lord, but when I thought about it, it made sense." This provoked more muttering, but it stayed quiet. The First Judge gestured for her to go on. "Lord Miervaldis was called to Fifth Star Court to investigate the murder of a scribe. A common servant. Dressing as a commoner, to mingle with the crowds and talk freely, made sense to me."


    "I see," said the First Judge. "And what of his books?"


    "His books?"


    "He has several treatises on various scholarly topics. You didn''t see them?"


    "I don''t think so, my lord," Alyn said, skirting very close to lying. She hadn''t seen the title of the book that had been in the carriage, after all.


    "I see. And you still found it odd that you ate with your lord in Ellmore?"


    "Yes, my lord. Because we didn''t talk to anyone, we didn''t do anything that might have given us information. We just ate. That''s why I found that strange."


    There was a pause. The First Judge looked down thoughtfully. Miervaldis was still standing with his head bowed. The guards simply stood there. Behind them all the gorgeous curtain billowed with an unfelt breeze; Alyn wondered how it could be so light with all the embroidery.


    Eventually, the First Judge cleared his throat and threw open the questions to the rest of the lords. They shouted them incoherently, so that he had to keep ringing the gong and calling them to order, before passing the question on to Alyn. None of the questions were as hard as those she''d already had to answer, and some of them were downright inane.


    "Did your lord cavort with common women?"


    "Did he ever do a magic spell in front of you?"


    "Did the accused speak of his home demesne?"


    "Did he discuss his business in Ellmore?"


    Eventually the questions died down, but Alyn could tell the lords weren''t satisfied. There was an uneasy, edgy feeling in the air. Clearly the First Judge could feel it too; he took inordinately long to speak, which only heightened the tension.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Lord Miervaldis," he said finally, and Miervaldis raised his head and returned the steady gaze. "From the testimony of your page, I would find you innocent." There was an immediate uproar and the First Judge had to beat the gong three times before the Court quietened.


    "However," he went on, his voice sounding a little hoarse now, "given what has gone before and the opinion of your peers in this Court, I cannot follow through on that pronouncement." Miervaldis nodded slowly, his expression veiled again. Alyn thought, I was right. There was something before. The assembled lords murmured and shifted, waiting for the pronouncement. The First Judge hesitated, then turned to the railing to stare out at the crowd but said nothing. It was as though he didn''t know what to do now, or as though, Alyn thought, he knew what he wanted to do but couldn''t bring himself to say it. She took a deep breath.


    "My lord," she said, and her voice echoed off the high ceiling, sounding very lightweight after the First Judge''s deep bass tones. "I am willing to be examined."


    She''d expected more noise, but there was none; the Court held its breath. The First Judge stared impassively down at her.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean, my - ah, Lord Miervaldis has been accused of ensorcelling me, hasn''t he? I''m willing to be examined - by a mage - to disprove that."


    Now there was noise, but above it all was Miervaldis'' shout:


    "Alyn, no!"


    She saw the guards step closer, and he subsided. The noise abated without the help of the gong this time.


    "If you are willing, that would be the ideal solution," the First Judge said. "Are you familiar with this sort of magic, then?"


    "No, my lord." A trick question? She wondered.


    "Are you aware that the examination is said to be painful? And possibly dangerous?"


    Dangerous?


    "I am, my lord." She swallowed. Would they find out about the letter her brother sent? Was she about to make things worse? But it was too late to stop now. The First Judge smiled and nodded.


    "Then if you are still willing, we will proceed," he said, sounding satisfied. He turned and gestured, and Miervaldis lunged forward to the railing.


    "Alyn, don''t! I forbid you to do this!"


    "My lord," Alyn said shakily, "I am no longer your page. I do not have a duty of obedience to you. I do have a duty of obedience to my conscience."


    "Stop it!" Miervaldis shouted again, then turned to face the throng, his face pale. "I''ll say what you want. I''ll confess. Please, don''t do this!"


    There was once again uproar in the court, half of them clamouring for an end now he had shown willing to confess, the other half shouting for the examination to go ahead. Alyn felt drowned by all the noise and the First Judge beat the gong again and again, to no avail. Then the embroidered curtain twitched and the lords all fell silent at once. Alyn stared, mouth open. A dark figure was faintly visible behind the folds of thin fabric, but when he spoke, his voice reached the far corners of the room with quiet authority.


    "Alyn Vanyasdotter, are you willing to submit yourself to this?"


    Alyn almost sat down, so great was the shock of realisation. This was the Emperor. It had to be! The Sun Emperor, ruler of the Nine Star Courts and will of the gods on earth. Even looking at his face was a privilege rarely granted. She stared at the indistinct form, then realised an answer was required.


    "Yes, your holiness," she stammered, then hastily bowed, clumsily making the unfamiliar courtesy of page to Sun Emperor.


    "You truly believe Iarlaith Miervaldis is innocent?"


    "I do, your holiness." Her voice sounded a lot firmer than she felt.


    "Then rise, and proceed," said the Emperor. Miervaldis swung round to face the curtain.


    "But - your holiness -"


    "Be quiet, Iarlaith," said the Emperor evenly, but there was a touch of iron in his voice now. "Stand aside and respect what is given to you. You don''t get to choose your gifts."


    White-faced, Miervaldis turned back, and he did not speak again.


    Two doors flanked the stage, one on either side, at ground level where the steps came to the floor. Now the door to Alyn''s left opened and two men came out; the court mages. The first was an elderly man with a long grey beard neatly combed, and dark, grave eyes below bushy grey eyebrows. He wore flowing white robes edged in purple with a decorative mantle on top. Despite his age he still looked sharp and vigorous; Alyn guessed he was the First Mage. He came forwards and stopped below the curtain, bowing to one knee in deep obeisance, followed closely by the second man. He was much younger, with long pale hair tied back behind him and a subdued, watchful air. His clothes were comparatively simple; long cotton robes and an over-robe of dark brown with minimal embroidery. He also made obeisance, but unlike the First Mage he knelt down and placed his head and chest upon the floor. Alyn wondered at that, for it was the form of courtesy from one common-born to the Emperor. That was unusual, for such a one to become Acolyte to the First Mage.


    The Emperor, a vague shape behind the curtains, said something quietly and both men rose. Then the younger one came forwards to where Alyn stood. The older man summoned guards and within moments a chair was brought over to her.


    "I am Esarten," the First Acolyte said as he approached and bowed deeply to her. That felt wrong, but of course, the forms of common-born to noble could never change, not even when the commoner was First Acolyte of the Sun Court and the noble was merely a fourteen-year-old page. The whole Court was hushed but he spoke quietly, as though he wanted his words to be for her alone.


    "I have been asked to examine you for evidence that you have been ensorcelled," he said. "Do you understand what that entails?"


    "N... not really," she confessed. Her legs were shaking.


    "Sit down," Esarten said gently and urged her to the chair. "I will enter your mind and examine it for traces of someone else''s presence. That means I must sift through your memories and examine your intentions and attitudes. If there is something there that does not fit, I will look at it further. It may have been put there by someone else, and if it was, that is ensorcellment."


    "I see."


    "I''m afraid it will hurt." He sounded genuinely sorry and when she looked up she saw little worry lines crinkling around his brows. "Your mind will try to resist," he went on. "There is also a danger of incapacitation, but it is slight. I will do my best to be quick, and to disturb as little as possible. Do you still consent to this?"


    Alyn swallowed. She didn''t want to think about what incapacitation might mean and she''d known it would hurt when she came here. Before she could change her mind she nodded firmly.


    "I do," she said, and her voice sounded clear and confident, totally unlike how she felt. Esarten nodded solemnly.


    "Then I will begin," he said, and moved to stand behind her. She felt suddenly vulnerable, sitting down with her back to him, but before she could do anything it had started.


    At first, she just felt a light pressure in her mind. It was hard to explain, to put into words, but it felt like something was pressing gently just inside her skull. It was almost a slimy pressure and felt slightly dirty. She squirmed involuntarily. Then it started to hurt.


    It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. Esarten''s touch was light and somewhere inside she recognised that, but he still had to filter through everything in her mind. All bodies have strong defences against invaders and the mind is no exception; even a non-mage''s mind is hard to penetrate, hard to examine. Esarten''s mind slid like a knife through hers and her defences rose against it, making it blunt where it had been sharp, forcing it to batter where it had tried to slice, resisting the invader and increasing the pain. It felt like he was cutting through her mind with an actual physical knife, and mincing what was left behind. She was dimly aware that she was biting her lip, hard, but didn''t possess the resources to stop. The pain went on and on, increasing every time he sought further, until she couldn''t bear it any more and still it went on.


    She only knew he had finished because the pain had stopped increasing. It was still there, as though her mind had been flayed, and every thought hurt as though she was rubbing salt into the wound. Slowly she came back to physical awareness, although the mental pain didn''t diminish. She realised she was crying; tears were sliding down her cheeks and her throat was raw. Her eyes were open but there was a white mist in front of them and she couldn''t hear anything. Her hands, though, were hypersensitive; she could feel the individual fibres of the cloth where they rested on her knees. Her lip was bleeding where she had bitten it, but when she licked it she couldn''t taste the salt.


    Something bumped against her hand, then somebody gently opened her fingers and clamped them round a mug. The hand guided her mug to her mouth and she obediently took a clumsy drink. There was barely any taste, but it was warm and soothing and somehow restorative.


    "That''s right," said Esarten''s voice, close to her ear. "Drink that. It will help."


    She tried to speak, but her mouth felt clumsy and her throat hurt.


    "Don''t speak," he said. "It will be a little while before you can, anyway. Don''t worry. You did well."


    What was that supposed to mean? She drank a bit more of the warm drink, and this time she could taste the milky honey sweetness. She raised a hand to rub her eyes but it was caught and stopped.


    "Don''t rub your eyes," said the First Acolyte. "You''ll recover your sight in time. Sensory disruption is normal in these situations, don''t worry."


    Don''t worry? The instruction almost made her laugh, but she recognised concern in his awkward attempts at reassurance. Obediently she drank more, one small sip at a time, and by the time she had finished the white fog had cleared a bit and she could see his face, albeit fuzzily. She looked around, recognising the stage and the hall, and wondered why everyone was so quiet.


    "I put a sound shield up," said Esarten, as though she''d spoken her thoughts aloud. "There''s a complete furore out there and I didn''t want your ears exposed to that so soon after the examination." He didn''t say, but Alyn guessed, that it had also stopped her screaming from sounding in the Court, and she was grateful for that. There was a pause, then he took the empty mug from her hands.


    "Are you ready for me to drop the shield?"


    She nodded, although she wasn''t really sure. He faced away from her and then sound surged back, the sound of hundreds of men all talking at once, and she flinched in the chair. The ring of the gong sounded and the hall fell blessedly silent.


    "First Acolyte, what have you found?" The voice was not familiar. Alyn couldn''t see well enough to work out who was speaking, but she thought it might be the First Mage.


    "There is no trace of ensorcellment, my lord Mage," said Esarten clearly, confirming her guess. Then the rest of what he had said hit home and she breathed out sharply in relief. She''d almost forgotten what it had all been for. Dimly she was aware of the lords shouting and talking again, but it seemed a long way away, and not really anything to concern her any more. She felt herself slipping from the chair and thought that it was ridiculous, that she ought at least to be able to sit up straight, and then thought it was good that the mug had been taken from her, otherwise she might drop and break it. Then she wasn''t thinking anything any more.


    The next thing she was aware of was a large, soft, warm cushion. She was lying on it under a cover, wearing something that felt like silk. Her eyes were shut - it was proper darkness, not the weird, milky fog that had covered her sight before - and she felt like she had just woken from a long, satisfying sleep. Cautiously she opened her eyes and saw a white ceiling with beams of wood criss-crossing it, and a window directly above her bed on the left side and a tree outside. The branches bobbed close to the window, still covered in blossom despite the season. It looked beautiful and it made her smile. Her sight seemed quite normal, unaffected. Slowly she turned her head to the right and there was barely any pain, only the ache one might feel from a stiff, abused joint.


    Miervaldis was seated to her right. His eyes were closed as though he had nodded off in the chair. The light glinted off the grey in his hair and she saw with some exasperation that he was still dressed shabbily, even in the Sun Court.


    The Sun Court! She was in a bed in the Sun Court! She sat up abruptly, then wished she hadn''t as her head protested the sudden movement. It also woke her lord; he blinked for an instant, then raised his head.


    "Alyn!"


    "Now, my lord, don''t disturb the poor girl." That was an unfamiliar voice. Alyn looked over and saw a stout woman sitting in the opposite corner doing something with wool. She looked friendly; Alyn guessed she was there to keep an eye on her.


    "Thank you," she said, and her voice was hoarse but working. "I woke up myself, actually."


    The woman put down her wool and needles and got up carefully, then bustled about in the corner for a few minutes before bringing over a tray with a selection of edible things on it. She shooed Miervaldis away from the bedside and placed the tray before Alyn. There was dried meat, dried and fresh fruit, a sweetmeat and a bit of soft, still warm bread. Alyn realised she was hungry and fell to with a will, but she didn''t manage the dried meat. It looked too much like it might hurt. There was also a mug of tea, which went down very well.


    "Thank you," she remembered to say halfway through the bread. The woman just smiled.


    When she had finished, the tray was removed and Miervaldis resumed his seat. He kept looking like he was about to say something, but stopped himself every time.


    "What happened?" she asked eventually. He blinked at her.


    "I''m sorry, I hadn''t realised. Of course, you don''t know. Well, first they carried you out, then the First Judge had to beat the gong multiple times to make them all shut up. Then he pronounced me innocent and that was it, really." His face was guarded. She wondered if that really was all that had happened. He looked away suddenly.


    "Alyn, I - I am so sorry... I didn''t, didn''t want you to have to go through with that. And I am so very glad you are all right now..."


    Alyn didn''t know how to deal with his honesty or his pain, so she didn''t say anything. Tongue-tied she waited, and after a moment he looked back at her, his face carefully masked of the expression that had been in his words.


    "Is there anything you need?" he asked eventually, and she thought carefully.


    "No," she said at last. "But I think I might go to sleep again."


    "Do," he said, sounding relieved. "I''ll be here, or nearby." And he sat back in the chair as though willing to wait there for her until the world ended. She was about to say she didn''t think she could sleep with him there like that, but she fell asleep instead.


    The second time she woke, it was early morning. The pink glow of sunrise glinted across the room, raising red hues in the wooden beams and throwing dappled tree shadows on the walls. Miervaldis wasn''t there - that would have been inappropriate at night, after all - and neither was the older woman. The room was empty but her clothes, freshly washed and pressed, lay on the rack with her soft slippers underneath. There was a bowl of steaming water by the door and a towel. Someone was clearly expecting her to be awake.


    She got out of bed and crept over to the bowl. It really was as warm as it looked and she stripped off the silky nightgown and washed as thoroughly as she could, then dried luxuriously in the thick towel before dressing. It felt really good to be clean all over and her head didn''t even hurt this morning.


    She pulled on the Court slippers and carefully poked her head out of the door. To her surprise, there was a small boy curled up on the floor outside, dressed in somewhat over-large Sun Court livery. He yelped as the door opened, then hastily bowed.


    "My lady, there''s breakfast in the Hall of Morning Lights and I''m to lead you there when you''re ready," he said all in a rush.


    "I''m ready," said Alyn. It felt odd to be addressed as ¡®my lady''. The boy bobbed and grinned and set off down the corridor. She followed behind, looking around in renewed wonder.


    The Hall of Morning Lights proved to be exactly that - a small, graceful hall set on a rise with long windows facing east. There were prisms in the top windows which refracted the morning sunlight into a dazzling display of colour across the top of the walls. The room also held a long table loaded with food of all sorts and two chairs, both empty, on opposite sides of the table facing each other. The boy showed her to one of the chairs so she sat down, and he dashed off to return with a full pot of hot water and a candle and mount to put it on, so it would stay warm. Bemused, Alyn poured herself a mug of hot water and added some of the fragrant flowers and leaves from the saucer of tea by her side. The sweet scent filled the air.


    "That smells delicious," said Miervaldis, and she jumped. He was standing a few feet away from the other chair and the boy was standing beside him beaming. Alyn watched as her lord sat down. The boy brought him another pot and mounted it over another candle. Was the whole spread just for them? It seemed a bit extravagant to say the least.


    "Do eat," Miervaldis urged her. "It''s a long way home from here." He followed up his own advice by helping himself to some of the smoked salmon and she copied him.


    After they had both eaten their fill - and that was a great deal for Alyn, who hadn''t realised how hungry she was until she''d started - they sat for some time drinking their tea. Then the small boy appeared, and with him, a herald, also in Sun Court livery.


    "My lord and lady," the herald said, ramrod-straight and staring fixedly in front of him. "The Sun Emperor desires to see your faces. I will lead you to him."


    He didn''t wait for an answer but turned and marched out. Alyn scrambled to follow, wondering if that meant what she thought it meant. Miervaldis walked behind her as they went down corridor after corridor, through courtyards and gardens, across little humpback bridges and through colonnades of wooden columns. Eventually they came to a small, graceful building that stood alone in the middle of a particularly well-tended garden. It was the only building Alyn had seen since she''d entered the Sun Court that had not been connected somehow to at least one other building. The herald led the way along a little winding path that meandered around the garden, giving them a good chance to appreciate the flowers and scents of the place. It was charming, appearing half-wild but clearly carefully looked after. Small waterfalls bubbled from overhanging rocks and merged into bigger streams. Trees arched over the path, making sunlight dapples on the stone. Flowers added splashes of colour, seemingly at random but always in harmony with each other. It was a masterpiece of gardening.


    "He tends it himself," said Miervaldis quietly, and Alyn understood. This was the Sun Emperor''s own garden. She felt overawed and humbled, and wondered how many people had seen this personal treasure.


    The herald and his boy stopped by the door to the little dwelling. There were steps up to a walkway that ran around the building and the door was halfway along the side. The herald didn''t say anything as they approached, but he rang a bell that was suspended from one of the slender columns that supported the overhanging roof. It made a sweet, light note. The door opened silently and the herald gestured them through.


    Inside it was all one room but there were intricately painted screens here and there to block sections off. Presumably they could be moved at the master''s whim. The walls were of a pale, thin wood and there were many windows, so that the whole room was light. Alyn only saw that later though; like her lord, as soon as she had entered the room, she knelt to make the full obeisance to the Sun Emperor.


    "Rise," he said, and she recognised his voice from the trial. "I would be grateful if you would take tea with me this morning."

 Chapter 13

    For a long moment nothing happened, then Alyn heard Miervaldis sit up so she did the same, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. The wooden panels were highly polished and glowed in the morning sun. Someone entered from a door to one side of the room and Alyn looked sideways to see an older man with downcast eyes, wearing a veil and carrying a tray. He placed the tray on the low table before them and made full obeisance, then rose and left, walking backwards all the way, still looking down.


    The tray carried pots of sweetly-scented tea, plates of warm bread and two jars of conserve. There was also fruit, raisins, and baklava; her mouth watered at the sight. Then there were several things she didn''t recognise but thought came from the far south, where she''d never been; rings of pastry with conserve over them, small dark solid squares and crumbly slices of something with a grainy texture. The tray sat between them, steaming invitingly in the silence. Then she heard the Emperor rise and half-saw, half-heard him pouring the tea. He placed the cups before them and she started. The Emperor was serving her tea?


    "You can look up, Alyn," said Miervaldis quietly, and she raised her eyes nervously. The Emperor was just sitting back down behind the table, on a pile of cushions on a slightly-raised dais. He was a tall, slim man with long dark hair styled neatly to fall down his back. He wore immaculately clean white robes which had intricate gold and purple embroidery around the hems. Alyn immediately thought irreverently that he must have special clothes for gardening. Over the top of the robes he wore a decorative tunic with more of the delicate embroidery. His eyes were dark and looked tired, despite the early hour.


    "Please, help yourselves," he said and gestured to the tray. Alyn didn''t dare move until her lord did and then she lost herself for a short time in the food. They''d breakfasted already, of course, which had sated her appetite, but the food brought to the Sun Emperor was better than anything she''d had before and she very much wanted to taste just a little of everything on the tray. Even the tea was delicious, with a subtle flowery flavour which complemented the food perfectly, especially the little squares which were densely sweet.


    "Do you like the baklava, Alyn?" the Emperor asked after a little while, and she froze, the second piece of baklava halfway to her mouth.


    "Ah, yes, my lord Emperor," she managed, after a moment of silence.


    "It''s one of my favourites," he said cheerfully. "Have you tried the halfa?"


    "Halfa?"


    "This one," and he handed her a slice of the grainy crumbly stuff. She bit into it tentatively, and was rewarded with a rush of sweet-savoury, almondy flavour.


    "Yes, my lord Emperor!" she said fervently when she''d swallowed, and he chuckled, though not mockingly. It made her feel more at home.


    After they had eaten and Miervaldis and the Emperor had carried on a gentle, meandering conversation about exotic plants, the veiled servant took the tray away and brought in fresh pots of tea. This time the Emperor ignored them, settling back on his cushions and taking a long breath.


    "I wanted to thank you, Alyn," he said, and Alyn jumped, not ready for this.


    "My lord Emperor?"


    "For your honesty and your commitment to your conscience." She looked up at him and his face was grave. "There are people who would have given much to see your lord imprisoned or executed and you stopped that from happening. I am very grateful to you, because he is important to me."


    Alyn glanced sideways involuntarily and saw Miervaldis look uncomfortable.


    "My lord Emperor, surely -" he protested, but the Emperor waved his hand.


    "You know it''s true, Iarlaith," he said. "And I am deeply sorry for putting you in such a situation, but I will never regret asking for your help." Alyn looked from one man to the other, not really understanding what was being said. She thought that "asking for your help" probably didn''t mean the most recent request that Miervaldis uncover the murderer in Fifth Star Court. She remembered him saying that he''d met the Emperor before, when "a situation arose" in the Sun Court. Was that what he was referring to?


    "My lord Emperor," she said timidly, when no-one had spoken for a while, "may I ask a question?"


    "Of course."


    "Why would anyone want to see my lord imprisoned?"


    "Because he is important to me," the Emperor repeated, and Alyn sensed she wasn''t going to get any more out of him. She certainly didn''t feel brave enough to ask anything further, although she itched to know if anything was going to be done about the nameless conspirators. After a while Miervaldis asked after the Emperor''s family and the conversation became light once more. She felt relieved to be out of it, just left to enjoy the tea and the experience of sitting with the Sun Emperor in his personal rooms.


    Presently the Emperor brought the conversation to a natural close and rose. Alyn and Miervaldis rose with him, then Miervaldis made obeisance and Alyn copied him, realising that this personal conversation was coming to an end.


    "I must thank you both again," the Emperor said formally. "Please accept my deepest gratitude, and also my regrets."


    "Regrets, my lord Emperor?" asked Miervaldis from his kneeling position.


    "I must ask you to return to Fifth Star Court. The situation there is... delicate."


    "Of course, my lord," said Miervaldis, sounding somewhat surprised to be asked. Alyn guessed he had been expecting to go back.


    "Alyn. What is your wish?"


    It was her turn to be surprised. She had expected to be sent back with Miervaldis - after all, if he was declared innocent, surely she was his page once more? But if she had the choice, what would she choose?


    "I will go back with my lord," she said.


    "Are you sure, Alyn?" It was Miervaldis who spoke, not the Emperor, somewhat of a breach of protocol.


    "Yes, my lord!" she said, a little put-out at his questioning her. Didn''t he want her service? The Emperor chuckled again quietly.


    "You can''t control loyalty, Iarlaith. You should know that."


    Miervaldis sighed, relaxing slightly as though he had come to a decision or accepted one made for him. The Emperor turned his attention back to Alyn.


    "I''m glad to hear that. Very well then. Please continue serving as you have done."


    "Yes, my lord Emperor."


    The conversation was at an end. She heard the Emperor retreating, although he didn''t leave the room. She and Miervaldis backed out, eyes down, to rejoin the herald and his boy who were waiting outside the building. Had they been there the entire time? They started off down the path through the little garden. At the end she turned to look back, but could barely see the building through the exuberant plant growth. She thought that was probably deliberate.


    They were led back to their rooms, which turned out to be quite a way away from each other in the sprawling complex assigned for visitor''s accommodation. Alyn packed her few clothes, all clean and folded, and followed the boy to the little courtyard where she''d first been searched. Miervaldis was there donning his shoes, and Alyn followed his example. It felt odd to be wearing her boots again after two days of the soft Sun Court slippers. Then they were led through the building and across the big courtyard to a familiar small dark coach. Alyn climbed in after her lord, hoping that Cloud had been well looked after, wherever she was.


    The coach set off, going south. Apparently they weren''t going back to Fourth Star Court. Alyn had a spare set of clothes but she did wonder about her lord. But then, he didn''t seem to care much about his clothes anyway. It would have been nice to have been able to pack some things but perhaps the journey would have taken too long if they had gone via Fourth Star Court. She sighed.


    The first hour of the coach ride was silent. Miervaldis said nothing and Alyn didn''t want to start a conversation. Instead she looked at the scenery going by, first the outer boundaries of the Sun Court lands - smooth, green, rolling hills with stands of trees here and there - and then the lands along the banks of the Voront, which ran south past Sun Court lands until it was crossed by the orbital road on its mighty seven-arched bridge. She watched the big river rolling on, noticing barges both horse-drawn and sail-powered and numerous small boats where there were towns. The river provided a livelihood for a huge number of people and the road ran past the outskirts of the little towns that crowded its banks.


    She also pondered, on that long, silent journey, the unspoken conversation that had taken place between her lord and the Emperor, beneath the talk she''d heard. The Emperor had said that her lord was important to him. Was that because Miervaldis had helped him in the past? What had he done? Why would that put him in danger - who would want to hurt someone important to the Sun Emperor? She drew in her breath, realising the question held a deeper, more relevant one. Who would want to hurt the Emperor himself? She remembered Miervaldis saying "There''ll always be people who disagree, Alyn, even with the will of the gods on earth," and she remembered the worrying conversation in Cathecassa with Lady Ismene. People disagreed with the decrees of the Sun Emperor. Did that mean some people were willing to go further than just disagreement? She shivered, not wanting to think about that any more.


    "You can ask questions," said Miervaldis suddenly, and she looked over in surprise. He appeared tense and she wondered if he''d spent the past hour thinking of how to start a conversation. She racked her brains for an innocuous question but couldn''t think of one at all, so she asked the one that had most needled at her since the news had come through that she wasn''t required at the trial.


    "Why didn''t you want me at the Sun Court, my lord?"


    He started, then ducked his head with what looked like a rueful smile. Had he been expecting something else?


    "Because I knew they would want to examine you," he said.


    "But surely that''s a good thing?" Alyn was confused. The examination had cleared him faster and more conclusively than anything she or anyone else could have said.


    "For me, yes." He was looking straight at her now, eyes serious. "But was it a good thing for you?"


    Remembered pain made Alyn flinch. She turned away, struggling with the unwanted recall. Esarten''s hands, gentle on her shoulders and his skill, digging relentlessly in her head, lacerating her mind as it tried hopelessly to resist. She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head as though she could dislodge the memories.


    "It wasn''t a good thing for you," Miervaldis said, speaking very quietly. "I know what it feels like, you see. I didn''t want that for you. After all, it was only chance that brought you to serve as my page."


    Miervaldis had been through an examination as well? Shocked, she looked up, but it was his turn to be looking away. When had that happened? But she remembered the trial - the lords muttering about what had happened before, what he''d been accused of before. An examination would make sense, she supposed. It made her feel much better to know that her initial supposition, that he was protecting her, was right.


    A long silence fell but it was more comfortable now. Alyn found her perceptions of Miervaldis revised again, closer to the lord she had thought she''d known. She wanted to ask about the way he''d behaved when he arrested Pyrrhus but didn''t quite dare, afraid, perhaps, of bringing that persona back. But her brother''s concerns and her own worries about her lord were gone, and it was such a relief. She hadn''t realised how much the suspicions and warnings had preyed on her mind, hadn''t understood how worried it had made her. Everything was all right now. She was serving the right person, doing the right thing.


    Then again, they were on their way to continue a murder investigation. That she wasn''t so keen on. Fleetingly she wished she was going back to Fourth Star Court but that wouldn''t have been right either. They could only go forwards. There was never a going back.


    "Do you know what has happened at Fifth Star Court?" Miervaldis asked, breaking the silence with the same topic she''d been considering.


    "No, my lord, I didn''t hear much of the gossip."


    "Hmm." He fell silent, thinking. Then: "Do you know what happened to Lord Kadir after I was arrested?"


    "No, my lord. We were separated shortly after that and I didn''t see him again." Miervaldis looked frustrated.


    "I was so close," he said. "I was so near to understanding what was going on and then those guards wrecked everything!"


    "The ones who arrested you, my lord?"


    "No, although they didn''t help." He smiled ruefully. "Being arrested never helps an enquiry. No, the guards who dragged poor Pyrrhus from his lesson and then kept him for ages before bringing him to me. I barely got a chance to speak to the poor lad and he was both angry and terrified. It''s not going to make our job any easier."


    "My lord, I was wondering..." She broke off but he nodded at her.


    "Go on."


    "I was wondering, was it Lord Cassian who accused you? Because you said you were going to visit him two days before we got arrested and, well, it seemed like a very rushed accusation."


    "A rushed accusation?" Miervaldis broke in. He looked curious. "Why?"


    "Well, it was silly." She spread her hands helplessly. "It was something that could so easily be disproved, it was like, um, like they were in a desperate hurry to get you away, my lord."


    "It could only have been easily disproved if you had come to testify as you did," Miervaldis pointed out. "They may have counted on you not being willing or... not being alive."


    That made Alyn jump. She''d almost forgotten the worries that had partly caused her flight from Fourth Star Court.


    "Did something happen?" He''d noticed her surprise.


    "Yes, my lord," she confessed. "There was an arrow shot while I was collecting mine from the targets at the big meadow - it could have been an accident. But then someone searched my room one night when I wasn''t there too, so I got worried. That''s partly why I came."


    "You see. Yes, it did seem a desperate tactic, but it would have worked if you could be dealt with and it was backed up by enough force to do that. I''m so sorry for putting you in such danger..." He looked genuinely upset.


    "That''s why I thought it might be the murderer who did it," she carried on, not sure what else to say. "Because they''d be desperate. But the Emperor said there were other people..."


    "I wouldn''t be surprised if there was a... collaboration," Miervaldis said. "The people the Emperor spoke of are... well, at present they don''t have much say in the Sun Court. It''s too big a risk to be associated with heresy - any lords who sympathise would be unwilling to stand up and be counted, at least at present. But someone unconnected, who''d have an entirely different motive for the accusation, would be very helpful to them, of course."


    "My lord, why doesn''t the Emperor just arrest them?"


    "That''s... complicated." He paused, and Alyn thought he wasn''t going to say any more. She remembered the political conversation in Cathecassa and the mention of the Emperor''s older brother. She wondered how to bring that up without actually naming him but before she could speak, Miervaldis continued. "The people in charge are, well, not confirmed. There''s plenty of suspicion but no proof. And to be honest, if everyone who is suspected of being involved actually is, then the Sun Emperor himself is the only person not involved, if you get my meaning." He actually laughed, and Alyn wondered how he could take it so lightly. "In fact," he went on, "almost nobody is known. The only time people are actually identified, they''re invariably small fry who know nothing about the ringleaders. Or they''re dead. Usually both."Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "I don''t understand, my lord. If it''s the Niethians... don''t they know who they are?"


    "The Niethians aren''t worth arresting," Miervaldis said bluntly. "They''re a harmless group of discontented commoners and petty nobles. Just a recruiting ground, if that. Anyone who''s really involved wouldn''t be seen dead at one of their meetings. No, this runs far deeper than that. It exists, but that''s all that''s known. It can''t even be investigated properly for fear of upsetting people. Lords." He fell silent again, brooding. Alyn fidgeted on her seat. The coach jolted as it passed over a rut in the road.


    "But might it still have been the murderer who brought the accusation, my lord?" she asked eventually. Miervaldis looked up.


    "It''s a good theory, but I''m afraid it''s unlikely to be Lord Cassian."


    "Why?"


    "Because I didn''t see him that day. I tried, but he refused to open his door. I suppose it''s possible that he was approached and agreed to make the accusation, but that''s true of anyone - it doesn''t really make him stand out as a suspect. Any more than he already does anyway."


    Alyn fell silent, discouraged. She wanted it to be Lord Cassian. Did that make her a bad person?


    At the end of the radial road they changed horses, then set off round the orbital road once again. It wasn''t far to the turn to Fifth Star Court and they rolled into the stableyard in mid-afternoon. Miervaldis unfolded himself from the coach seats and clambered out; Alyn hopped after him.


    The sky was grey now, after what had been a promising start. Or maybe it was only grey in Fifth Star Court, Alyn thought. She couldn''t quite imagine rain falling on the beautiful Sun Court, although the lushness of the plants surely meant it did, and frequently. Maybe it only fell during the night. But here in Fifth Star Court it was grey and gloomy, and the grooms who came out moved slowly and looked grumpy. Were they grumpy because it was her lord returning?


    They didn''t say anything, just took the horses'' heads and led them away. She saw them conferring with the driver in a small huddle by the stable doors. Miervaldis shrugged and turned for the archway to the main Court. There was nobody there to meet them but he went straight into the building and headed for the suite of rooms they''d had before. Several people stared at them en route but most ignored them. Allyn guessed that the news of Miervaldis'' acquittal had arrived the day before by morning courier. They were probably expecting him back.


    The rooms were open and clean. Miervaldis'' things were still inside, although she guessed they must have been searched. He didn''t say anything about it but did ask her to go and sort out some tea, and dinner for them both in the evening, and to get replacements for some of the things she''d left behind in Fourth Star Court.


    The walk down to the kitchens was nerve-racking to say the least. She kept expecting to get jumped on by pages - they''d be out of their lesson by now - or for someone to shout at her or accuse her of treachery. Nothing happened, but she was aware of being watched almost the entire way. She thought Miervaldis was probably hoping for gossip but that was unlikely to happen, not with the way things were now. As she''d expected, the cooks at the kitchen were cold and formal and although they agreed to send up dinner later, she rather suspected it would be cold and unappetising. The only reason the tea she was given was hot was because she''d asked for it right then and there.


    She carried the tray away feeling gloomy. It wasn''t pleasant to bear the brunt of an entire Court''s dislike. Up the first flight of stairs, though, she ran into Ythilda carrying a pile of sheets and the maid''s smile came as such a shock that she nearly dropped the tray.


    "Are you all right?" the maid asked, concern in her voice.


    "Yes - I''m sorry." She balanced the tray again and smiled. "I just didn''t expect to see you here. Just here, I mean... I knew you''d be here somewhere..."


    "Your rooms should be ready for you - is there anything else you need?"


    "They''re fine, thanks, but actually, there is. I came without luggage, only a change of clothes. Is there any way..."


    "I can arrange for some wash things and some underclothes for you." Ythilda''s tone of voice was sympathetic.


    "Oh, thank you!"


    "Is your lord all right?"


    "Yes, fine. We''re both fine." Alyn wondered why the maid was so concerned or if she was simply being pleasant. But if she was willing to talk, perhaps the tea could wait a little longer....


    "Can you tell me what''s happened here? Over the past few days I mean, since we left."


    "It''s been a week, actually. More than. What do you want to know?"


    "Really, what happened to Pyrrhus... and Lord Kadir, uh, Berinhard and Lord Isidor." Ythilda glanced aside and hesitated before speaking.


    "Lord Isidor''s being kept apart from Court," she said finally. "Word is it''s his mother who wants him away from here. I think she''s worried of what he might do, because Lord Berinhard and Pyrrhus have been imprisoned for the crime of murder." Alyn nearly dropped the tray again. She hadn''t thought it would be so bad.


    "Steady on." Ythilda moved to her elbow but she had it under control.


    "They''ve been accused of the murder?"


    "I''m afraid so. On account of what Lord Cassian did to their father, you know." Alyn felt sick. Miervaldis had ordered Pyrrhus'' imprisonment. It was because of her lord that he and his brother were now accused of murder and that felt dreadful. A little voice in her head kept insisting that it might have happened anyway, that they might really be guilty, but she ignored it, not wanting to accept its truth.


    "Thank you," she said carefully, and tried to smile. "That''s good to know."


    "You''re welcome," said Ythilda, and smiled again, but Alyn understood now that although the maid might be friendly and willing to answer questions, she thought the same as the rest of the Court. She thought that it was all Miervaldis'' fault. She was right too, that was the worst thing.


    When she got back to the room with the tea, she told Miervaldis everything Ythilda had said. Her lord just nodded thoughtfully, although he did frown when she said Pyrrhus and Kadir were accused of murder.


    "That''s not what I meant," he muttered, but didn''t elaborate. Instead, after drinking tea he left the room to make what he called ¡®arrangements''. After that they stayed in the rooms all that evening, mostly in silence. Alyn tried to read but didn''t get very far. The fire was unlit, and nobody came to light it, although the weather was warm so it didn''t matter much. The dinner was late and cold, as she''d expected, and neither of them ate much. They went to bed early and she wondered what was going to happen in the morning. How could they conduct an investigation if nobody would speak to them?


    In the morning Miervaldis told her over breakfast - served late and rather sparse - that they were going to Cathecassa that day. Alyn felt both relieved and nervous; relieved because Fifth Star Court was so unpleasant for them to be around and nervous because Lady Ismene was a formidable lady, and she got the distinct impression that her lord didn''t intend this to be a social call.


    The grooms were surprised when they showed up and more still when Miervaldis announced his intention to ride. It was a fair way to Cathecassa but it would be quicker riding and they could get back the same day, Alyn realised. Two horses were led out for them; Miervaldis inspected them both carefully before nodding. They were not attractive beasts, one small dun mare with a heavy head and shaggy mane, and one leggy dull brown gelding with an oversized white blaze covering half his face. Miervaldis mounted the brown horse with reasonable skill, leaving Alyn the dun mare, who whuffled in a friendly fashion when she introduced herself. They left the courtyard with no more words, and the grooms watched them go in silence.


    Outside Fifth Star Court the air felt cleaner and easier to breathe. There was no conversation but Alyn sensed her lord felt the same. The horses moved well despite their unattractive appearance; it would seem that the grooms had only given them ugly mounts, and not unfit ones. The road unrolled beneath their hooves and the fields passed by on either side, brown and gold with the growing crops, much as she had remembered from their earlier visit.


    They arrived before lunchtime, the horses breathing hard but not lathered. They clattered past the tall guardian trees and pulled up at the gate, where Miervaldis spoke to the footmen. They nodded and bowed, and one left his post to run to the house. Shortly he came back, the gate was opened and the visitors bowed through to the yard where they dismounted. Grooms came for the horses, leaving Alyn and her lord to brush themselves down and compose themselves for Lady Ismene.


    Unlike the last visit, she did not come out to greet them. The butler arrived and welcomed them in, with a touch of chill to his manner. Alyn followed her lord, subdued and this time not looking at the beautiful d¨¦cor of the house. Her stomach was knotting with dread and a little hunger. The butler led them to the same receiving room as before, the small white room with the big windows overlooking the gardens. Alyn stood behind Miervaldis but neither sat.


    After about ten minutes of absolute silence, Lady Ismene arrived. She smiled, but it was a cold smile, one which didn''t touch the rest of her face. It made Alyn shiver even as she made courtesy to the lady.


    "Lord Miervaldis, what can I do for you?" Lady Ismene enquired politely.


    "I would like a cup of tea, please," Miervaldis said mildly. His easy manner fell awkwardly into the elegant, frozen atmosphere of the room, but he didn''t seem to notice. "I expect my page would like one too."


    Lady Ismene recovered her composure smoothly.


    "Of course. Please, have a seat."


    Miervaldis sat down and Alyn went to stand behind him, hoping fervently that she''d be allowed to stay there this time. Nobody seemed to object. She rather thought they might have forgotten she existed, they were watching each other so carefully. The butler brought in tea in a delicate white teapot with gold swirls on its spout, but it was left untouched.


    "So what brings you here, my lord? Don''t tell me you were passing and thought you might drop in for tea?" The lady''s words were playful but the tone was careful. Miervaldis beamed at her, which she found worrying or annoying, Alyn couldn''t tell which.


    "I wanted to talk, actually," he said cheerfully. "I think I may have found something that will help with your husband''s, ah, problem."


    "My husband''s problem?"


    "Yes, you know. The problem of his being suspected of murdering his scribe."


    "Ah. Of course." Lady Ismene glanced away.


    "May I continue?"


    "Please, my lord." She waved a hand wearily, the gesture still elegant.


    "I think your daughter''s friend Lord Isidor was abroad that night on his own doings. I think his friend Lord Berinhard and his brother Pyrrhus, a page in Fifth Star Court, were involved. I think both have a lot to explain and that is why they are under arrest in the Court right now." He was leaning forwards, his easy tone now firm, and the lady was leaning back, off balance. Alyn had seen her flinch and catch her breath at the names mentioned. Your daughter''s friend Lord Isidor. What did that mean?


    "You think they are the murderers?" Lady Ismene managed, her voice high with tension and stress.


    "No! They''re not! I won''t have this!" The sudden shout from the doorway made them all jump. Alyn spun round, heart hammering in her chest. Lady Aithne stood in the doorway, hair round her face in disarray, her eyes wide and angry, her stance aggressive.


    "My lady," Miervaldis said, his voice mild again. "Do you have something to say?"


    Aithne hesitated, looking over to her mother. Alyn looked too and saw Lady Ismene turn away from it all, shoulders hunched. She turned back to Aithne, and saw the girl set her jaw.


    "I do," she declared. "Lord Isidor was visiting me on the night of the murder."


    Miervaldis raised an eyebrow.


    "Alone? Surely not." Aithne flushed, and scowled.


    "He is a kinsman," she said defiantly.


    "Well, that hardly answers my question. I know Lord Isidor visited you that night, my lady. That''s partly why he is not also under lock and key right now." And that was dissembling, Alyn thought to herself. Lady Reyhana was why Lord Isidor hadn''t been arrested. Well, maybe.


    "Kadir -" began Aithne, and her voice broke. She covered her mouth with her hands and turned away but not before Alyn had heard a sob.


    "Lord Berinhard visited you as well, didn''t he?" asked Miervaldis gently. "I think I understand what''s been happening. You met him, didn''t you, while Lord Isidor and he were serving together, and then after the duel you found ways to continue seeing each other?"


    "It wasn''t quite like that." Alyn jumped, surprised. The voice was Lady Ismene''s; she had turned back on the chair and was watching Miervaldis with tired, wary eyes. "It wasn''t until Pyrrhus came to Fifth Star Court that Aithne saw Kadir again. They have been meeting ever since, with Isidor''s and Pyrrhus'' help and with my blessing."


    "But not your husband''s. Am I right?" The lady lowered her eyes.


    "Yes," she admitted, and Alyn understood at last. Without Lord Cassian''s consent, there was no way Kadir could marry Aithne. If indeed Cassian ever caught wind of their meetings, she rather thought he''d put an end to them out of pure spite. The families were officially in enmity since the duel and a marriage between them would be difficult to arrange even with the best will in the world. And Kadir - well, Kadir now had two reasons for wanting to get Lord Cassian out of the way. So now their silence made sense, and Isidor''s too. If Aithne had admitted to seeing him on the night of the murder, she would have not only have provided a motive, but also acknowledged he was in the right place at the right time. And she would almost certainly have destroyed any hope she had of marrying her Kadir. Alyn felt sick with pity for them both. She looked over to where Aithne stood against the door, face still hidden, then back to Lady Ismene. The lady was sitting upright again, her expression fixed and proud but now completely open. There was nothing left to hide.


    "What will you do now?" Aithne asked, her voice steady although her face, now turned towards them, was tearstained.


    "That depends on what you can tell me," Miervaldis said gently. "At what time did Lord Isidor come to you?"


    "He came just after darkness."


    "And was Lord Berinhard with him?"


    "No, he always waited to be sure. Isidor checked with me and then rode off again. He came back less than an hour later with Kadir."


    "And what did he do then?" Aithne glanced guiltily at her mother.


    "Ah, he left," she said.


    "But Kadir stayed?"


    "Yes." There was defiance in that syllable. Alyn guessed that although Lady Ismene had known of the lovers'' meetings, she hadn''t known of the disappearance of their erstwhile chaperone.


    "Do you know where Lord Isidor went?"


    "I don''t. But he can''t have gone far. He came back before dawn, and when he left he took Kadir with him."


    "When did he leave? Was it dawn by then?"


    "No, it was still dark but beginning to get light. It was cloudy so we couldn''t see the moon, but I don''t think it was long until dawn. Otherwise... he''d have stayed longer."


    "I see." Miervaldis looked thoughtful. Alyn remembered the groom saying, "His horse was back by the morning shift", which fitted. And that meant that Kadir couldn''t possibly be the murderer, didn''t it?


    "Will you need me to testify?" Aithne''s voice was steady. Her testament would provide an alibi but it carried the same consequence they had been trying so hard to avoid. Miervaldis sighed, and lowered his head.


    "I will try my best to find the murderer without needing your word," he said. "It was important that I know, but at the moment I have no need to tell anybody else." Aithne''s face lit up with hope, but Miervaldis went on. "If I need to, though, I will ask you. I know what it will do, but if you are both alive and free then there is still hope. There will be none if Lord Berinhard is judged guilty of murder."


    "I know that!"


    "Aithne..." interjected Lady Ismene, reprovingly.


    "It''s all right," said Miervaldis. "Thank you for your honesty, Lady Ismene, Lady Aithne." He stood up and Alyn moved behind him. Lady Ismene looked surprised.


    "Won''t you stay?" she asked. "It''s lunchtime. I''m sure we can accommodate another two mouths."


    "Well..."


    "You haven''t finished your tea either." Her voice was stern but she was smiling slightly. Miervaldis gave in with good grace.


    "Thank you, my lady, we will."


    Lunch was served in the same dining room they''d eaten in before, although it was simpler fare. The servants brought in soup, bread, cold meat and a selection of vegetables, and the conversation was light and cheerful. Nothing was said about murder, Lord Cassian or the Emperor. Aithne joined them a little late, having taken the time to change and wash her face, and she seemed much more open than she had been before. They discussed plants again and then, bizarrely, the finer points of calligraphy and the differences in writing between the various Star Courts. Alyn thought she ought to be used to her lord and his chameleonic conversation skills by now, but they always caught her out. Why on earth did he know so much about calligraphy?


    The time passed quickly and after the long-awaited tea to finish off the meal they returned to the courtyard. The grooms led out the same horses they''d ridden in on, looking refreshed and ready. Lady Ismene and her daughter came out to bid them farewell, standing together by the door as Alyn and her lord mounted.


    "Thank you for your hospitality," Miervaldis said, and bowed from the waist to Lady Ismene.


    "No, thank you," she returned gravely. "Thank you for your honesty."


    "And thank you for your promise," said Aithne. Her voice was full of hope and she was smiling as though it had all been arranged already. Alyn just hoped they weren''t going to let her down. Miervaldis turned his mount to go but as he did so, the butler emerged from the house and came to Alyn''s mare.


    "From the kitchen," he said, and handed her up a little box.


    "Thank you!" said Alyn, realising instantly what it was. Her mouth watered despite the meal they''d just eaten and Lady Ismene laughed as they rode away.


    When they were a good distance down the road, she urged her horse closer to Miervaldis''. They weren''t riding at speed any more, which made it easier to have a conversation.


    "My lord, can I ask a question?"


    He glanced around at the countryside but there was no-one visible for miles around.


    "Yes, go on."


    "This means it wasn''t Lord Berinhard and it wasn''t Lord Isidor?"


    "That''s right."


    "And it can''t have been Pyrrhus?" She felt nervous, although the idea of the little page doing anything violent was ridiculous.


    "Theoretically it could have been but no, I don''t think it was. I rather think Pyrrhus went down to town to lead Isidor to Kadir and then stayed there until his brother came back. That''s why Isidor said Pyrrhus had been with him."


    "So was Lord Isidor really arguing about a horse?"


    Miervaldis laughed. "He may have been but I think not. I suspect, whatever the actual debate was, he was arguing on behalf of Kadir and Aithne, although without actually mentioning them, of course. He seems to be very loyal."


    "So... so who''s left?"


    Miervaldis shifted position in the saddle and sighed. "I don''t know. We seem to have done a remarkable job of eliminating just about everyone who was in the running..."


    Brenna, Alyn thought, remembering the list they''d gone over before. Aethan. Lord Isidor. Kadir and Pyrrhus. Who were the other two suspects?


    "There''s Lord Cassian, my lord," she said.


    "There is, although I''m still not happy about accusing him in the absence of any evidence and motive. If he won''t talk to me and we can''t find anything else, though, we may have to offer the inadequacy of what we have to the Sun Court. Well, we''ll do what we can. But there is one other avenue we haven''t pursued all the way to its end."


    "Do you mean Liliya, my lord?"


    "That''s right. Liliya and her mother, Silvi. I want to find out more about them, although I don''t know how. Perhaps..." He glanced at the sky. "If we hurry back we''ll have time to head into Ellmore this afternoon. I... may be able to talk to some people who might know."


    Alyn looked sideways; he was staring straight ahead with a noncommittal expression on his face, but she guessed who he meant. Did that mean he would take her into town too? Was he going to trust her with his secrets? The thought was an oddly flattering one.


    She urged the dun mare onwards after the brown gelding, hoping they''d be in time.

 Chapter 14

    They were in time, just about. The grooms received the horses with the same surly expressions they had worn in the morning, but Alyn was too excited to notice. Back in their rooms, Miervaldis changed - not to his reversible tunic, which had never been returned, but into a dull grey shapeless coat. The material was fine, but the cut and colour was enough to dissuade a close examination. She had a more difficult time of it, having only two outfits with her. Obviously the one she''d worn for the Sun Court trial was out; that was the best she had anywhere. The other, the one she was wearing now, she felt might also be a bit ostentatious for Ellmore. Miervaldis looked her over thoughtfully, fiddling with the buttons on his cuff. She noticed one of the buttons on his right sleeve was missing.


    "Hang on," he said, and went back to his room. She heard the sound of a chest opening and he re-emerged bearing a shirt.


    "Wear this," he said cheerfully. "It doesn''t matter if it''s too big, you''ll fit in just fine."


    Alyn looked the garment over dubiously. It was off-white, with puffy sleeves and a simple collar. She took it into her room and put it on; it hung ridiculously loose, and she had to tuck most of its length into her trousers, but she had to admit, it didn''t look like something a noble would wear. Miervaldis eyed her as she came out, then nodded.


    "You''ll do. Come on, let''s go."


    "Yes, my lord!" She fell in behind him, and they left the Court.


    The road was as long as she remembered it and she was tired from the riding, but anticipation kept her going. By the time the roofs of Ellmore first came into view through the trees she felt it had to be time for dinner. Her stomach rumbled and Miervaldis laughed.


    "There''ll be food, don''t worry," he said. "Although we should do our research first, if we can. If you can manage that."


    "I''m fine, my lord."


    "We won''t be long. They may not even be open by now. Oh, and don''t use ¡®my lord'' from now on, please. It''s not going to help with, ah, fitting in."


    The town was as bustling as ever, and Miervaldis blended in perfectly. She felt awkward and out of place but in fact nobody paid her any attention, and after a little while she felt able to relax a bit. Her lord pushed through the thronging crowds ahead of her, forging a path through the people talking and laughing and jostling for food and drink, heading to a large square which stood at what she thought was the centre of town. Market stalls were set up across it, although none were occupied at this time of night. Miervaldis threaded his way through them to the other side, to a large, ornate building bearing a big sign standing out like a tavern sign might, with two crossed keys and a tower.


    "The Guildhall, my - ah...?" she tailed off, remembering just in time not to use the honorific.


    "Yes. I hope we''re still in time. They may be closed." He hurried up the steps and pushed at the door, and to her surprise it opened.


    The lights were dim inside. They stood in a big hall with an empty desk to the left and shelves of books and records around it. A faded rug lay on the floor in an attempt to soften the harshness of the stone. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with beams of wood which blended into the darkness. To the right were two heavy wooden doors and a single clerk who was fiddling with a key. He looked up as they came in, and smiled.


    "Valdis," he said with warmth. "What are you doing here? It''s been ages. And who''s this?"


    "Not that long," Miervaldis said, with similar friendliness. His voice had changed slightly, losing the crisp pronunciation of the Court, acquiring the longer vowel sounds and slurred, lazy consonants of the people of the town. Alyn marvelled at it even as she decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn''t think she could pull that off. "This is Alyn, the daughter of a friend," her lord went on. "I''m looking for records - oh, the census would do." Alyn tried to remember if she''d seen the clerk before at the Proverb in the Hand, but couldn''t recall his face. She had been looking through thick, distorting glass anyway.


    "For your research?"


    "Yes. Well, a side thing." Alyn wondered what research he''d talked about before. But the clerk seemed friendly enough and accepted the explanation. He pushed open the door he was standing by.


    "Census records are in the first office on the right," he said. "Start to the right of the door."


    "Thanks," said Miervaldis and started down the corridor. Alyn scurried to follow.


    "Don''t be long!" the clerk called after them, and Miervaldis waved his hand.


    "I won''t," he called back.


    The corridor was wide, with a low roof and white walls pocked with doorways. Miervaldis turned into the first one, which led to a room filled with books and papers arranged mostly neatly on floor-to-ceiling shelves which took up all the wall space. There was a small desk in the middle, amply supplied with blank paper and pens, although no chairs. An unlit lamp stood on an iron stand nearby, with a striker hanging from a hook; Miervaldis bent over it and fiddled with it until the room was filled with flickering light. Alyn gazed around, amazed at the sheer quantity of paper. Did all the other doorways lead to similar rooms? There was a fortune in paperwork in this one alone! She didn''t remember ever hearing how Fifth Star Court townships were maintained, but there had been a lesson in Fourth Star Court on the record-keeping and tax procedures of the towns. The procedures would vary, of course, but were probably similar, intended to perform similar functions. She hadn''t listened to most of it, but now she wished she had. It looked incredibly complex. Did every town have to do this?


    "Here we are," said Miervaldis, and she jumped out of her musings and came over to the table. He laid down a thick sheaf of paper. "The most recent census records. Too recent to have been bound yet. These were taken... in 1320. Three years ago."


    He shuffled through the papers, then handed a pile to Alyn.


    "They''re not in alphabetical order, I''m afraid," he said. "It looks like these are the originals and no-one''s been through to copy and sort them out. See if you can find Silvi''s name, or her father''s. Hopefully we''ll find it before Jethro comes to throw us out."


    Alyn took her papers to the other side of the little table, wishing for a chair, and started to shuffle through. The records were indeed unordered. Each resident, it seemed, had come to fill out a form, or rather to have it filled out for them, since the handwriting was identical for most of the entries. She scanned over the first few sheets. It appeared that in Ellmore, a census required a name, an occupation, and an address. Numbers and other names attached to one entry confused her for a while until she realised that those had to be the other people at the same house. So not everyone had to turn up, presumably, just the head of the household.


    The task was daunting, and she was worried both that she''d miss it and that Jethro the clerk would come by before either of them found what they were looking for. She remembered all too well how long it had taken her to go through the stack of records Jaquan had been working on when he died. This time though they were in luck. After about ten minutes Miervaldis put down a sheet and said "found it" with satisfaction at about the same time that Alyn thumped her wedge of papers down and said "got it!" They looked at each other for a moment, then Miervaldis smiled and gestured to her to proceed.


    "I found Silvi, my, um, well, she''s here. Or she was three years ago anyway."


    "You found Silvi? That''s better than I managed. Here, write this down please." He waited until she''d found a pen with a decent nib, an inkpot that wasn''t quite empty and a suitable bit of paper, then dictated from his record.


    "Monar Stef''s son. Carpenter. Lives in the third cottage at Felton''s farm, two miles out of Ellmore on the south road. One wife, one son, one daughter-in-law, four grandchildren and his sister-in-law also living at the same address." Alyn scribbled the details down. Miervaldis picked up her sheet and scanned down it for Silvi''s details. His eyebrows raised when he found it.


    "Silvi Monar''s daughter. No occupation listed. Lives in number seven by the riverside and over the bridge. No other inhabitants."


    When Alyn had noted that down as well Miervaldis returned the sheaf of papers to its shelf, extinguished the light and left. Jethro was still in the main hall when they emerged, fiddling with one of the brackets that usually held lamps.


    "Did you find what you wanted?" he called over.


    "Yes, thanks very much!"


    "You''re welcome. Will you be in the Proverb later?"


    "Probably not. Some other time." There was regret in her lord''s voice. Jethro waved a hand in acquiescence, and they left him to finish up his work.


    Back in the crowds again, Miervaldis led her to a tavern. It wasn''t the Proverb in the Hand but a more normal, streetside enterprise named the Maypole. A large, battered post stood outside and she saw faint, faded flakes of paint on it. Presumably it had once been gaudily coloured as befitted the name of the tavern.


    Miervaldis went in and stood by the bar and she followed him. The man behind sauntered over.


    "Whatcha drinking, then?"


    "Golden Bird. Two, please." Alyn guessed that Golden Bird was a local ale. She''d never heard of it before but that sounded about right. The bartender turned to a barrel mounted on a tall rack behind the bar and started filling a mug. Miervaldis pulled out a tatty coin purse, which surprised Alyn; lords didn¡¯t usually carry small change, never mind a coin purse. Although really, I ought to expect things like that by now. Her lord put two small coins on the bar and collected the drinks, nodding thanks to the bartender and leading the way over to a table near the unlit fire. He put one mug across from him, signing to Alyn to sit down. She did so, hesitantly sipping the dark ale. It had an odd, metallic taste and the familiar alcoholic tinge, but it wasn''t too bad and she was thirsty. Miervaldis presumably was too, for he took a long swallow before asking for the piece of paper she''d been writing on.


    "Now, did you notice anything unusual about those records?" he asked.


    "Monar is a carpenter but his daughter worked at the Court?" she guessed. Carpentry was a skill, and as a skilled worker Monar and his family would be of a higher social class than those who usually worked at the Court, although conventions were more fluid for commoners than for nobles. Miervaldis nodded slowly.


    "I hadn''t thought of that," he admitted. "But he was attached to a farm, so my guess is that he wasn''t a particularly skilled carpenter. You''re quite right, although it was something else I noticed. Do you know anything about Ellmore?"


    "Not really." Alyn took another drink.


    "Not too fast. It''s stronger than you might think and I''m not carrying you back. Come to think of it..." he leaned out and made a gesture in the general direction of the bar, then turned back to her. "The thing is, Ellmore is arranged around the central square where we just were, but the best houses are those on the north side by the river. They''re upstream of the town so get the cleanest water, and they''re good, large houses. That''s where Silvi was living at the time of the census. Living alone in the best part of town, with no visible means of support. That''s what I found odd."


    "Liliya wasn''t listed either."


    "No, she could have been at Court at that time. Servants at Court aren''t usually counted in a town''s census unless they''re living at home, and sometimes not even then. The census is mainly for tax purposes and servants at Court are usually tax-exempt. At least, that''s how it works at Fourth Star Court, and I believe at Eighth and Sixth as well." He broke off as another man came up to their table.


    "Did you want food, or more to drink?"


    "Food, please. What do you have tonight?"


    "Pilov, with lamb and olives. Stewed pork with tomatoes. And casserole. There''s always casserole."


    "Pilov, please." Miervaldis looked at Alyn. She struggled to remember the dishes, but the whole experience was so new to her, they''d gone straight out of her head. She looked helplessly at her lord.


    "Two pilov," he said and the man nodded.


    "That''s four marks."


    Miervaldis nodded again and the man headed off.


    "Um... what is pilov?" Alyn asked, when she was sure he was out of earshot. Miervaldis grinned at her.


    "It''s a rice dish common to the region," he said. "Rice and lamb and carrots - and olives, in this case." She nodded dubiously and took another sip of the ale.


    "So anyway," Miervaldis said, going back to the sheet of paper. "Silvi''s living on her own away from her parents, in a big house and with no stated means of income. What does that suggest to you?"


    "She''d earned a lot of money?" Alyn guessed. "She was an upper servant before she left the Court."


    "She was what?" Miervaldis leaned forward, his eyes intent. Alyn swallowed, realising that she''d never passed along that last titbit of information.


    "I mean, she served the uppers," she said. "Her records showed that. The ones I looked up before, before Pyrrhus..." she tailed off. Miervaldis was staring over her head now, his face alight with thought. He was silent for some time, long enough for their food to arrive.


    "Four marks," said the server, and Miervaldis recovered from his reverie and put the money on the table. A large wooden platter was set down in front of each of them, bearing a mound of yellow rice studded with olives, carrots and raisins, covering large chunks of well-cooked lamb. There was a fork but no other implements provided. It smelled delicious.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Seconds cost one mark apiece," said the man as he turned and left. Miervaldis grinned at Alyn.


    "Go on," he said. "It''s good."


    Alyn didn''t need the instruction and she found it tasted as good as it smelt.


    "So," said her lord, after some time had passed and the mounds of rice and lamb had dwindled to less than half their initial size, "Silvi served the upper servants. The butler, housekeeper, valets and the chamberlain."


    "Yes, m - yes." Alyn kept eating, but more slowly now.


    "And she left to have a child, whom she bore and raised alone in a big house with no job."


    "She must have had money."


    "But her family are relatively poor, or they wouldn''t be attached to a farm. So the money is hers and it must have been a gift."


    "Could it be from Liliya''s father?"


    "That does seem most likely, yes."


    "Could we visit her? Now we know her address?"


    "Theoretically, we could." Miervaldis made a wry face. "But in practice I can''t do it like I am now, because why would she talk to a random stranger, much less tell confidences? And if I were to go as - well, as I ought to, the entire town would know that something was up, never mind the murderer, and the poor woman would be too terrified to say anything at all." He fell silent, looking at the plate thoughtfully. Then he called for another ale, and water for Alyn, and after that no more was said about Silvi and Liliya.


    They got back late that night, after spending an hour or so wandering around the town enjoying the night scenes. There had been a fire-eater in the small River Square plying his trade before a crowd of rowdy semi-drunks, and a juggler two streets over using small, burning balls, throwing and catching them so they made glowing loops in the air. Every tavern had a minstrel, with a few to spare, so there was plenty to see. The road back to the Court seemed five times as long as it had on the way in and Alyn felt like she was sleepwalking by the time they reached the side gate. Thankfully nobody but the gate guards were around to see their late return and she fell asleep immediately after changing, exhausted from the day. She didn''t even have time to wonder where they would be looking the next day, or to think about what they had found out at Cathecassa and in Ellmore, or about her lord''s friends who knew him only as ''Valdis''.


    It was Ythilda who brought their breakfast up in the morning, which meant it was fresh, the bread warm and the tea hot. Both Alyn and Miervaldis had woken late and bleary-eyed but they managed to be up in time to receive the tray and express profuse thanks to the maid as she closed the door behind her. Miervaldis walked over and locked it as he always had done, then turned back to the table.


    "What do we know about Silvi and Liliya?"


    Alyn had been expecting something like that but had been too tired to formulate an answer properly. She started listing, attempting a chronological ordering.


    "We know Liliya served Lord Cassian and left, probably due to his... actions. Her notice of payment for illness was very crumpled by Jaquan when he died, so it''s possible that he was copying it at the time, although we saw no copy. The original was later removed by somebody, which is why we think it''s important. We know Liliya''s mother also served here and towards the end of her service she worked for the upper servants. We know she has no husband and is living alone with no obvious means of support in an expensive house."


    "Is that it?"


    "I think so, my lord."


    He came and sat down, pouring himself a tea.


    "It''s not terribly suggestive, is it? Just a string of slightly odd occurrences. But there are one or two other things which I think may be relevant. Have some breakfast, go on."


    Alyn did so, waiting for him to tell her what he thought was relevant, but annoyingly he didn''t explain himself.


    "Unfortunately," he continued, "Lord Berinhard has two very excellent reasons for murdering Jaquan, although they''d be even better ones for doing away with Lord Cassian himself, of course. I really don''t want to have to rely on Lady Aithne''s evidence, but at this rate we might have to." He fell silent, brooding.


    "My lord?" Alyn ventured, after some time. He glanced up.


    "What is it?"


    "There was the chamberlain. He knows about Silvi and Liliya and he was very nervous when you asked about them. And..."


    "Go on," Miervaldis said, sitting forward. His face was intent. She swallowed, knowing where her next statement was going to lead.


    "And I saw him talking to someone... to the man who interviewed me after the arrest."


    "When did you see the chamberlain talking to this person?"


    "The day after you spoke to him about Silvi, my lord."


    "And you''re sure it was the same person who talked to you after the arrest?"


    "Yes, my lord. I recognised his voice."


    "You recognised his voice? But not his face?"


    "I had a blindfold."


    "I see. And you recognised his voice from when?" This was the bit Alyn had been dreading.


    "From before, in Fourth Star Court, my lord," she said steadily. "He came to your room while I was there to pack." Miervaldis'' eyes widened and he sat back.


    "Did he now? And what did he say?"


    "He said... he said he wanted me to report anything untoward. And he said my loyalty was first to the Emperor before you. That was all."


    Miervaldis looked at her for some time, then stood up and went to the window, where he watched the morning sky, bright blue with speckled clouds. Alyn waited, feeling horribly tense inside. Eventually he spoke without turning round.


    "What did you tell him?"


    "Nothing, my lord!" It came out far too vehemently but she was shocked at what he''d implied.


    "Nothing?" There was surprise in his voice as he turned round. To her relief he didn''t look angry, only confused.


    "No, my lord."


    "Even though you saw plenty of things that you must have thought untoward?"


    "I... yes, but I didn''t like him. I didn''t trust him. I did wonder, but... I think I trusted you more. My lord."


    Miervaldis turned back to the window, shaking his head.


    "To receive such, undeserved," he remarked to the sunlight, something she thought might be a quote, then turned back again. "So you think the arrest was linked to this man?"


    "He was definitely involved, my lord."


    "And he was speaking to the chamberlain...the day before we were arrested?"


    "Yes, my lord."


    "Well, that doesn''t implicate the chamberlain as such. Any such process would naturally have to be discussed with him. Perhaps we should speak to him though. Alyn, please find the chamberlain and ask him to attend upon me at his earliest opportunity, then run to the kitchen and ask for tea for three for the right time."


    "Yes, my lord!" Relieved to have something concrete to do, she hurried to the door. Miervaldis had turned back to the window and was muttering to himself, but as ever she heard the lock turn behind her before she had gone three steps.


    She found the chamberlain talking with the gate guards and he agreed to come and talk in their rooms after he''d been to the butler to discuss the meal for the next Holy day. He barely paid her any attention at all, so she wondered if he''d actually make it to the rooms or forget the arrangement. The kitchen staff were distinctly cool to her but said the tea would be there in fifteen minutes and no, they didn''t want her to wait for the tray. So then there wasn''t anything else to do but go back to the rooms and wait.


    Fifteen minutes later the tea arrived, and thankfully it was hot, although there were no sweetmeats. Five minutes after that there was a tap at the door and the chamberlain arrived. He bowed deeply, smiling obsequiously. Alyn noticed he was sweating already and his velvet robes were misaligned and hanging awkwardly.


    "Please be seated," said Miervaldis and the chamberlain sat down in the nearest chair. Alyn served tea and retired to stand in the appropriate position, out of the way but well within earshot, making sure she could see the chamberlain''s face clearly. The two men drank their tea for a little while and Miervaldis managed to maintain a gentle chat about the gardens and how they were kept irrigated in the warm south-eastern summer. The chamberlain followed his lead, clearly not knowing much about the subject but not wanting to interrupt. Alyn watched him fidgeting and wondered when he''d get up the courage to ask what Miervaldis wanted.


    "So, ah, my lord," he managed eventually after the second cup of tea. "How is your, ah, investigation going?"


    "Oh, I think I''m more or less finished here," Miervaldis said nonchalantly. A variety of expressions chased each other across the chamberlain''s face; shock, relief, worry, guilt and finally neutral pleasure.


    "That''s... good to know," he managed blandly.


    "Yes, I have a reasonably good idea of what happened. I''ll be going to the Sun Court today. The Emperor is personally interested, as you know."


    "Oh of course," the chamberlain nodded, wearing a peculiarly fixed smile. Alyn felt both nervous and intrigued. What was her lord playing at?


    "One thing, if I may?"


    "What would that be, my lord?"


    "I''m interested in gems and jewellery, as you know," said Miervaldis and the chamberlain bobbed his head as if he''d always known that, while Alyn struggled to keep a straight face. Miervaldis went on. "Might I see your staff of office, please? The decorations are most unusual - very attractive." He was now doing a good impression of a vacuous noble with no proper sense of perspective and a magpie''s intrigue with all things shiny. The chamberlain looked discomfited, then, clearly reluctant, held out the ornate staff. Miervaldis took it and examined it thoughtfully, then held it out to Alyn.


    "Come here, Alyn," he said, and she came over and looked at the staff obediently. It was a very fine piece of work with elaborate gold filigree over a hefty set of gems twinkling in scarlet and pale blue. She touched it with one finger and it felt cold. It looked top-heavy and a good weight at that.


    "Do you see this?" asked Miervaldis, indicating one area on it with a particularly deep crevice. Assuming that was what he meant, Alyn nodded obediently.


    "Yes, my lord."


    Miervaldis turned his head to stare at the chamberlain, who flinched from whatever expression was on his face.


    "You didn''t wash it well enough," he said, and his tone had changed from idle curiosity to a barely-hidden threat. "I can still see some, you know."


    "That can''t be! I -" the chamberlain stopped, half risen, realising too late that he''d said the wrong thing. His expression was frozen fear, shock and guilt all at once.


    "Yes," Miervaldis said quietly. "I have a good idea of what happened. Why don''t you tell me." It wasn''t a request, it was an order, delivered in that cold voice that made Alyn shiver. The chamberlain sat back again and stared at her lord in sullen defiance.


    "You don''t have any proof, do you?" he said eventually.


    "I don''t need it. You''re the only one with motive, means and opportunity. And no alibi." His voice had changed again, to imply careless assurance, to carry the lie.


    "What about Lord Berinhard?" Now the chamberlain sounded eager and Alyn found herself quite revolted by the man''s willingness to accuse another to get himself off the hook. If he really was guilty, and she still didn''t quite understand all the links. Yet.


    "I have a cast iron alibi for him," Miervaldis said. The chamberlain slumped, looking miserable. "And if you don''t tell me," her lord went on, "I shall go to your wife''s house and ask her. In person."


    The chamberlain looked horrified. He tried to speak, starting several sentences and stopping before a whole word came out. Eventually he managed a weak protest.


    "She''s not my wife..."


    "What is she, then?"


    There was another long pause, then he began to speak. It started out slowly with a lot of false starts, but became smoother and faster as he went on, as though it was a good thing to let it all out. To confess - and Alyn realised partway through that this was indeed a confession, if to a very unusual Sage indeed.


    "Silvi is... my lover of twenty-one years. She worked as a maid in the Court during my final year of service to Chamberlain Aghustin, the year before I became Chamberlain myself. But then five years later she became pregnant... of course I couldn''t marry her. Not then, not when I had only just established myself! I mean, the difference in status..." Alyn found herself amazed that the difference between two working-class servants could be deemed so great, but then there were strata in every class, even the nobles. The chamberlain stared straight ahead for a while, then resumed, twisting his hands together.


    "I made arrangements of course, and everything worked well. Silvi''s daughter - our daughter - came to work at the Court when she was thirteen. That was easy to arrange, because her mother had worked here. But the day she applied, I was busy seeing to Lord Raul, and before I knew it she had been chosen by Lord Cassian. Liliya is very beautiful." That was said as a simple fact, not as a man taking pride in his daughter.


    "Of course I tried to change it, but I couldn''t interfere too much in case anyone realised... and then six months later she had to leave. I knew why. Everyone knew why. Lord Cassian has always abused his servants, although even for him that was a short time. My poor girl!" Those were the first words that actually bore any trace of emotion towards Liliya. Alyn felt doubly sorry for the girl, who had presumably known her father and also known that he would never acknowledge her. That was hard enough to start with, even without what had been done within Fifth Star Court.


    "So she went home and recovered, and then a wonderful thing happened. A young glassblower asked to marry her! He was only young of course and didn''t have a shop, but even so it was a good match and she was happy with it." A glassblower would count as middle class, not working class. It was such an odd system, Alyn thought distractedly, that counted a servant in the Court lower than a craftsman working in the meanest shop in town.


    "The arrangements were made and it was all going well... and then Liliya came to me at night asking for money. She was in tears. I didn''t understand but I gave it to her - I thought maybe it was something like a present she wanted to buy for him. Girls can be so whimsical. But then one night I happened by Lord Cassian''s suite and I saw the light was on, so I went in to check the clerks hadn''t fallen asleep with the lamps still lit. It''s dangerous, you know. Jaquan -" he stumbled over the name and looked away, then cleared his throat and continued more quietly. "Jaquan was working at the far desk and didn''t notice me at first. The door was unlocked, so I made no noise. I came up behind him and he looked round and saw me and he looked so, so afraid, so upset. Horrified. Angry. He scrunched up the paper he was copying but I could see the copy he made. I could see it was a record of Liliya''s grant of leave. Then I - then I understood what had happened and why she had come to me for money. Everyone knew Jaquan was a little rat. Nobody liked him. It''s just the sort of thing he''d do!" He was speaking fast and breathing heavily, angered at the memory. Alyn held her breath. "So, so I, I hit him. With my staff. It hit the back of his head and he, he went down." He swallowed, looking suddenly ill at the memory, his face pale. "I took his pens and ink and his copy of the document, but - I didn''t want to disturb the official records so I hid the crumpled one in all the others and left them all over the place and went out. I locked the door... out of habit, I suppose." His head hung down and his last words sounded tired, as though the confession had taken it out of him. "I didn''t mean to kill him. But what he was trying to do... " he tailed off. There was a long silence, then he looked up, desperation on his face.


    "I''ll come with you, my lord," he said. "I''ll come with you to the Sun Court and - and the Sun Emperor. But please - please - don''t tell anybody. Let me accompany you, not be a, a prisoner. Please?" He was almost whispering. Alyn was shocked to find herself feeling strong revulsion towards him, as a man who was so obsessed with saving face and looking good that he refused to acknowledge a faithful lover, wouldn''t protect a daughter and even now, after confessing to murder, only thought of not looking bad in front of the Court.


    "Do I have your word that you will accompany me to the Sun Court?"


    "Yes, my lord."


    Miervaldis stared at the window for a moment, then looked back to the unhappy chamberlain.


    "I''ll make arrangements. We will be leaving very soon. Be at the courtyard in half an hour. If you are not there, then I will have to ask the guards to look for you."


    The chamberlain flinched and nodded. "I will be there, my lord." He rose shakily, not looking at either of them, and bowed out of the door. Miervaldis stood still for a long minute, then relaxed with a sigh.


    "That wasn''t very pleasant."


    Alyn agreed, but it wasn''t a question so she kept quiet.


    "Alyn, please go and arrange a coach for, oh, eight people - I''d like Pyrrhus and his brother to come, I think it would be good for them. We need to get to the Sun Court as quickly as possible. If we hurry, we may get there before the evening, in time for the Emperor to see us all today."


    "Yes, my lord," Alyn said, and hurried out. She was halfway down the stairs before she thought to wonder who the other three people were and what was going to happen at the Sun Court. Would there be another trial?

 Chapter 15

    Organising a coach for eight turned out to be impossible, or so the grooms said. They told her they could only prepare a coach for four and the vehicle they wheeled out was shabby and unprepossessing. They also claimed they had no fast carriage horses left. Alyn was almost at the end of her tether when her lord arrived with two guards, Pyrrhus and Kadir walking between them.


    "I''m sorry, my lord," she confessed. "They say they don''t have any coaches for eight, only for four..."


    Miervaldis raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and smiled ruefully.


    "It won''t be a problem," he said. "There won''t be any guards after all."


    "No guards?"


    "No. Everyone is.. busy."


    Alyn sighed. The two guards escorted Pyrrhus and Kadir to the coach and ushered them in. Then they came to Miervaldis, bowed perfunctorily and left, not even saying anything about the transfer of responsibility for the prisoners.


    "Are we having a driver?"


    "Probably not, my lord." She hadn''t had the heart to ask, after the grumpy reception she''d received.


    "Well, perhaps we can take turns." He still sounded relaxed and cheerful. Alyn had just started to wonder if the chamberlain would keep his word when he arrived, looking flustered but officious and giving a flood of instructions to a string of court servants clustering behind him.


    "My lord, is everything ready?" He made obeisance to Miervaldis and Alyn marvelled at the man''s ability to act like there was nothing wrong, like he really was just going along to escort Kadir and Pyrrhus. And why were they coming anyway? Surely it wasn''t just as a sop to the chamberlain''s saving face?


    "The coach is over there, Chamberlain. Please take a seat. We will be leaving shortly." He bowed again and headed over to the coach. Miervaldis had just started to follow him when there was a kerfuffle by the archway from the court.


    "Where are you taking my page?"


    Alyn spun round to see a tall, blond lord in some disarray, looking furiously angry. He stormed up to Miervaldis and she was secretly pleased to see that her lord retained the height advantage, even if only by a few inches.


    "Ah, Lord Lysandros? Pyrrhus is accompanying us to the Sun Court, where he can offer assistance in a small matter."


    "Small matter? You''re accusing my page of murder and kidnapping him without even telling me and you''re calling it a small matter?"


    Miervaldis coughed and looked aside, mouth twitching in what Alyn realised was amusement.


    "I do apologise. I should have informed you. If you are concerned, you''re welcome to accompany us."


    That came as a surprise to Pyrrhus'' angry patron but he assented, and boarded the coach with the chamberlain, Pyrrhus and Kadir. All four of them filled the interior, so Alyn, assuming she was going to drive, hopped up to the driver''s seat, which spanned the width of the coach, and looked back wondering what her lord would do. The grooms watched Miervaldis sullenly, daring him to ask for a driver or a bigger coach but he jumped up to the driver''s seat by Alyn and took the reins.


    "Let them stew," he murmured in an undertone and urged the horses on. Alyn enjoyed the look on the grooms'' faces as her lord drove the carriage out, even as she wondered whether he''d been referring to the grooms or the occupants of the little coach.


    The horses the grooms had chosen were mismatched both in colour and appearance and, more importantly, in speed and strength, although both were well-trained and mostly obedient. The coach did not move fast for the first leg but at the junction of the radial and orbital roads, Miervaldis had them swapped for better matched animals and they moved faster after that. Before, when they had travelled from the Sun Court to Fifth Star Court after the trial, it had taken them four or five hours - a long journey, but not too bad. But that had been in the fast coach. In this one, even with well-matched horses, Alyn wondered if they''d make it in time. The sun climbed into the sky and had passed its zenith before they came to the southern Sun Court road, marked as the western one had been by a tall, dark obelisk. Miervaldis changed the horses over again and hurried them on, allowing only a short stop for the privies.


    They drove along the river Voront once more while the sun descended. Alyn watched the river traffic and wondered what was going to happen when they got to the Sun Court. She also wondered what was happening inside the coach. She''d heard nothing from anyone, no talking, no arguing, nothing from Lord Lysandros, nothing from the chamberlain. Were they all sitting in frigid silence in there?


    They arrived at the Sun Court in late afternoon. The light was that lovely luminous gold that comes as sunset approaches. It made everything look better than it was, even the shabby little coach. They approached the southern entrance, the same one Alyn had brought Cloud to, and Miervaldis relinquished the reins to her and went to speak quietly to the guardsmen at the formidable gatehouse. After a few moments they were waved through, and Miervaldis jumped back on the coach as she drove past.


    She guided the team over the river and up the road to the big courtyard, where guards and grooms were waiting with polite smiles and bows. Their impersonal courtesy felt like warmth after the coldness of the grooms at Fifth Star Court. Alyn patted the horses in thanks before they were taken away.


    Disembarked, the party stared at the big building before them and what little of the Sun Court was visible beyond. Alyn, who''d seen it only four days earlier, watched the party. Pyrrhus looked awed and afraid, while Kadir wore a scowl to disguise his own awe. The chamberlain''s expression was hard to read but she thought it was a mix of pride, fear, guilt and anticipation. Lord Lysandros was watching the two guards walking towards them.


    "If you''ll come this way, my lords, honoured visitors," said the first to approach and he bowed. The party followed them both through the empty building and to the small courtyard where each was searched in turn, weapons taken away from Lord Lysandros, the only person to have any, and soft slippers handed out to each of them. Then they were led through the maze of corridors to a wide room with low couches. Teapots waited on small tables and the delicate scents mixed in the air.


    "Please be seated and take tea," said the same guard who''d spoken before. "Arrangements will be made for you to see the Sun Emperor as soon as possible." Then he retired to stand next to the door they''d come in by, while the silent guard stood at the other door leading out of the chamber. It was clear they weren''t to go anywhere but the room was comfortable, although nobody went to get tea. Alyn thought that was a terrible waste but didn''t dare to go herself, not alone.


    "Alyn, please serve the tea," said Miervaldis as though he''d read her mind, and she eagerly obeyed, offering each person a tea chosen at random from the five pots on the table. When everyone had been served, she helped herself, although that was not strictly correct.


    It was some time after the second round of tea that they were finally sent for. The light outside had dimmed to nearly twilight and the atmosphere within the room had stayed chill, with six people all pointedly trying not to speak to each other. But eventually the guard by the far door stood aside to allow a herald, a different man from last time, to step through. He surveyed the assembled crowd with some disdain, then bowed slowly.


    "If you will follow me, my lords, honoured visitors," he said, and turned without checking to see if anyone obeyed. Alyn scrambled from her position behind her lord, who followed the chamberlain who was dragging his feet. Lysandros, Pyrrhus and Kadir walked behind the herald and Alyn fancied she could see anger bubbling above Kadir''s head.


    The herald led them through more open corridors, so that as she walked, Alyn could look at the gardens and courtyards, now lit with small lanterns that shone bright against the coming evening. The sky, when she could see to the west, was glowing that silver-gold colour that sometimes comes at the end of a grey, cloudy day. The dull fire of the sunset was just visible on the horizon. She wondered where they were and if they''d be taken to the courtroom building. She''d completely lost track of their location in the maze of the Sun Court and had no idea if they were heading in the direction of the courtroom or not. She looked at Miervaldis'' back but that gave her no clues.


    It was very clear when they had arrived, even though it wasn''t the courtroom. The herald led them along a corridor open to the south and stopped by a large door. Not having been properly outside for some time, Alyn couldn''t get a feeling for the shape of the building but she thought it was big. The party stood silently by the door as the herald cleared his throat, then beat upon it with four measured knocks of his staff. A few moments passed, then the door was opened and another herald stood there.


    "I bring the supplicants for his majesty the Sun Emperor," said their herald, and bowed formally.


    "I receive from you the supplicants for the Sun Emperor," said the other herald, bowing in turn, then their herald stepped back out of the way. The new herald gestured them through the door. They stopped right inside, leaving Alyn, the shortest of the party and stuck at the back, almost no idea of what the room looked like. From her limited vantage point she could see rich dark wooden walls glowing with light from numerous lamps attached at about head height, and a wooden floor, well-worn but also well-polished. She squinted through the small gap between her lord''s right side and Kadir''s back and was rewarded by a view of the Emperor himself, seated on a raised dais at the far end of the room. He wore shimmering grey robes over a dark cool green garment and his face was veiled. To his right and to his left seating stretched out in a circle, occupied by lords she didn''t recognise and most of whom she couldn''t see.


    "Come forward," intoned the herald and Lord Lysandros, at the front, took a couple of steps. The party followed, spreading out a bit and Alyn saw the circle more clearly. There was only one row of chairs and most of them were occupied by what looked like very important lords indeed. She recognised the lord who had been First Judge at Miervaldis'' trial and the First Lord of Fourth Star Court. That meant this was to be a privy trial. She hadn''t paid much attention during that lesson - well, she hadn''t paid much attention to most of them - but she did remember the format of a privy court. Summoned to deal with private matters and small problems, the privy court consisted of the Sun Emperor, his chosen advisors and the First Lords of the Nine Star Courts. She didn''t think murder counted as a small problem but perhaps it was because it was a private matter. Or because it was the murder of a commoner, although that made her feel uncomfortable. There would be a declaration of the situation by the person requesting the attention of the privy court, then the Emperor would hear everyone who wished to speak, decide a resolution and declare it formally.


    "Who brings this matter before this court? Present yourself to his majesty the Sun Emperor."


    "I do," said Miervaldis, and he stepped from behind Kadir to the circle in the middle of the chairs, and made obeisance to the Emperor. Lord Lysandros followed so everyone else shuffled uncertainly after him to the circle''s centre.


    "And who are these people you bring? Do they pertain to the matter?" It was the herald speaking still, uttering the formal phrases, but Miervaldis addressed his answer to the Emperor.


    "They do, my lord. I present to you my page Alyn Vanyasdotter, Lord Berinhard of Eighth Star Court, Lord Lysandros of Fifth Star Court, his page Pyrrhus Berinhard and Emilio Otakar, chamberlain of Fifth Star Court." As each was named, they made obeisance and stayed kneeling on the floor. The herald turned to the circle.


    "My lords of the privy court, the supplicants." He struck the wooden floor with his staff, making a sharp, cracking noise, then made his own courtesy and retired to stand by the door. Silence reigned in the chamber. Then the Emperor spoke.


    "Rise, all of you." There was a shuffling and a rustling as they rose and fidgeted, not sure where to stand.


    "Lord Miervaldis, present the matter." That was still the formal requirements, Alyn guessed. Miervaldis bowed briefly.


    "My liege, you asked me to investigate the matter of the murder of a scribe in the Fifth Star Court. I have made enquiries and come to a conclusion. I would present my findings to you and I have these here with me to attest to my case."


    "Then proceed."


    "The scribe Jaquan was murdered while writing, hit on the head with a heavy blunt instrument. While I was at Fifth Star Court, several matters came to my attention that bore upon the murder. Most notably, Jaquan served Lord Cassian, who has several enemies. He was responsible for the death of Lord Idony Berinhard in a duel. Lord Kadir here is his son and was present in the area at the time of the murder."


    There was the scrape of a chair as one of the encircling lords stood up, not one Alyn recognised. The Emperor looked in his direction, then inclined his head.


    "I would ask what that has to do with the man''s scribe," the lord said brusquely. There was hostility in his tone.


    "It was suggested that if Lord Cassian could be framed for murder, that would be even better than actually murdering him," Miervaldis said smoothly. The lord frowned but sat down again. The Emperor gestured for Miervaldis to continue.


    "I do not, at this time, wish to accuse Lord Berinhard or his brother Pyrrhus of murder. Other things have come to -" Miervaldis'' speech was cut off by three chairs all scraping at once. The Emperor gestured to one of them, to a lord Alyn couldn''t see.


    "On what grounds do you consider them innocent?"


    "My lord, if I might continue, all will become clear. I would be happy to discuss proof later, if that is necessary."


    The lord sat down again and the Emperor nodded to Miervaldis, leaving the questions of the other two lords unasked.


    "Firstly, there was the unlikely framing. It is true that Lord Cassian has no alibi for the time of the murder, having been in his room all that night. It is also true that he has the key and the door was locked. However, the keys to his room are available to almost any of the household servants and to all his personal servants, to his heir Lord Isidor and probably to anyone else who paid attention to where the servants go after their duties are done. And there was no reason I could find for Lord Cassian to kill his scribe.


    "However, there were other people who might have wanted to do away with Jaquan. During my time at Fifth Star Court, I found several people who described him in unpleasant terms. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but from their testimonies Jaquan appears to have been a sneak and a blackmailer, a man who delighted in other people''s secrets and used them for money. When I examined the body, it was surrounded by papers, the most crumpled of which was a notice describing a grant of leave to a certain maidservant. This was later stolen from the pile while it was left in a locked office, confirming to me that it was important."


    A chair grated again and the First Lord of Fourth Star Court stood up, waited for the Emperor''s permission, and said, "Please get on with it, my lord." A little ripple of laughter pattered round the circle, easing the tension slightly, although not in the chamberlain. Miervaldis bowed from the waist.


    "I do apologise and I will try to be succinct. The maid in question is the daughter of a servant in the court and had served Lord Cassian for a short time. Her grant of illness was due to his abuse of her."


    There was a hard silence. Nobody knew what to make of the statement but several of the lords looked uncomfortable. After a little while, Miervaldis continued. "I investigated and found that the girl was shortly to marry. It would seem that Jaquan found out what had happened and was in the process of trying to blackmail the girl for money. Her father is rich and could afford a good sum. Jaquan did not count upon the girl''s father coming to him while he was making the copy of the grant of leave for his own use. The man understood what was going on and lashed out in anger. And so Jaquan died."


    A general hush fell over the circle as everyone waited to see what the Emperor would do but he also simply waited. Eventually a lord stood up and was given permission.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "You spin a good tale," he said, and his tone was also unfriendly. "But is there any proof of this, this desperate father?"


    "There is," said Miervaldis and nudged the chamberlain. The man stood frozen, staring numbly ahead, unable to speak. Lord Lysandros, Pyrrhus and Kadir were all gaping at him in shock and amazement. He made a tiny croaking noise, then dropped to both knees and abased himself again before the Emperor.


    "It''s the truth," he managed, his voice muffled by the floor but clear enough. With that confession chairs grated all around them as the lords stood up, but the Emperor gestured them all to silence.


    "Emilio Otakar, do I understand that you are confessing to the murder of the scribe Jaquan?"


    There was a long pause, then "I am," came from the floor.


    "And is Lord Miervaldis'' summary a good description of what happened?"


    "Yes."


    "Is there anything you wish to add to it?"


    "No, my lord Emperor."


    The Emperor stared at the huddled chamberlain, then raised his head to the circle. "Are there any questions for Emilio Otakar?"


    There was a pause, then the First Lord of Fourth Star Court stood up again to receive permission to speak.


    "Emilio Otakar, are you responsible for the accusation of sorcery against Lord Miervaldis?"


    "Yes."


    "You made a false accusation against a lord of another Star Court to prevent him finding out about your crime?" As though it made it worse that the chamberlain had accused a lord from a different court, Alyn thought, puzzled.


    "Yes."


    The First Lord of Fourth Star Court sat down again, but now the Emperor leaned forward to speak.


    "Was that solely on your initiative?"


    "No."


    "Explain."


    There was silence and Alyn wondered if monosyllables were all the chamberlain was capable of now. Then he spoke again. "I was approached by another man, who said he was concerned about Lord Miervaldis and, ah, his influence. He suggested to me that it would be better if the lord left and that perhaps I could help in that way, by filing an accusation."


    "Did you know this man?"


    "No, my lord Emperor."


    "And did he know what you had done?"


    "I don''t think so."


    "So why did he approach you?"


    "I think because... because he knew I did not like having another lord investigating my court."


    There was a general indrawn breath from the encircling lords. Alyn guessed they didn''t like having a commoner refer to a Star Court as his, although she understood what the chamberlain meant. The Emperor carried on.


    "So why did you accuse Lord Miervaldis of ensorcellment of his page?"


    "That was his idea."


    "And it didn''t occur to you that it would be easy to falsify?"


    "He said he would take care of it. That all I had to do was file the accusation."


    The Emperor let the silence hang for a while, as the lords thought about what had nearly happened and the lie the chamberlain had propagated at another''s suggestion. Another who was still unknown. Then he asked if there were any more questions, but this time there were none. He sat back.


    "Then the matter is over. Is there anyone who wishes to question the resolution of this case?"


    There was silence around. No-one wanted to argue with an actual confession, although Alyn thought cynically that with anything less concrete the collected lords would have argued with Miervaldis out of principle.


    "Then I must declare that this resolves the matter and that Lord Berinhard and Pyrrhus Berinhard, page to Lord Lysandros, are innocent of involvement." There hadn''t been any doubt of that from the moment the chamberlain had confessed, of course, but nonetheless the brothers looked elated at the announcement. They came forward and bowed in thanks. Alyn watched their faces and wondered if that was why Miervaldis had had them come, to witness the Emperor personally declaring their innocence. It would certainly have more impact.


    "Do you have anything to say before I proclaim justice?" That was directed to the chamberlain. Alyn wondered if he felt it was an honour to be sentenced by the Sun Emperor himself. In the normal order of things the murder of one commoner by another would be dealt with in the town courts, or at worst by the First Lord of the appropriate Star Court.


    "Mercy, my lord Emperor," the chamberlain said miserably from the floor. His voice sounded choked.


    "Do you think you deserve mercy?"


    There was silence. Clearly the chamberlain didn''t and neither did anyone else. Then from beside Alyn, Miervaldis spoke up.


    "My lord Emperor, if I may speak? If mercy is deserved, then it is not mercy, it is justice. By definition, mercy is given to the undeserving." His voice was mild, as though they were discussing philosophy and not the sentencing of a murderer. The assembled lords looked shocked and surprised and not a few of them angry. The Emperor leaned forwards and although she couldn''t see his face, Alyn thought he was intrigued.


    "You would argue for this man, even though he is responsible for the accusation of sorcery and the trial you endured?"


    "Mercy isn''t dependent on the crime," Miervaldis said, "it''s dependent on the character of the person offering it." Which wasn''t, Alyn thought, a direct answer. There was a dangerous pause, while all present tried to work out if that was a veiled insult. Then the Emperor laughed and the tension eased.


    "What mercy would you ask, Emilio Otakar?"


    The chamberlain eased himself up a little, remaining in obeisance but allowing himself to speak clearly.


    "My daughter is getting married in two weeks, my lord Emperor. I.. I would ask that I be allowed to attend her wedding before... Before." There was a pause, then he went on in a rush. "And if it be permitted, to have a, a quiet... execution?"


    Alyn found herself feeling sorry for him now. Even at the end, saving face mattered so much. His whole frame was quivering and she wondered dispassionately if he was sobbing.


    "I will grant you leave to attend your daughter''s wedding," the Emperor said. "But I have not, in fact, declared your sentence." The lords in the circle sat up suddenly, although they''d been paying attention all along. From the door, the herald stepped forwards and thumped his staff on the floor once more. Miervaldis bowed to one knee and the others in the centre of the circle copied him as the Emperor rose.


    "I have heard the testimonies of Lord Iarlaith Miervaldis and the accused, Emilio Otakar. I have found the evidence satisfactory and declare that Emilio Otakar is guilty of the murder of Jaquan, scribe to Lord Cassian. All others suspected of this crime are found innocent.


    "I now declare sentence upon Emilio Otakar, chamberlain to Fifth Star Court." He paused, as though for dramatic effect. The silence was absolute. "His service as chamberlain of the Fifth Star Court is ended, effective immediately. He is granted two weeks'' grace to attend the wedding of his daughter. If his face is seen within the borders of the land controlled by the Nine Star Courts at any time after that date, his life shall be forfeit.


    "In addition, I declare that blood debt has been claimed upon the life of Jaquan, scribe to Lord Cassian of the Fifth Star Court. This must be paid by Emilio Otakar before the date set.


    "This I hereby declare and make known to all present."


    The herald slammed his staff one more time, and the Emperor sat down. There was a gradual easing of tension around the room as the encircling lords started speaking to each other in low voices. Alyn glanced over to the ex-chamberlain, still huddled in obeisance. It could have been execution, she knew. Exile would be hard, but better than death. She wondered if Silvi would follow her ''husband'' to whichever of the neighbouring countries he chose and how he would get on there, no longer a young man and, she thought, probably not speaking any other language.


    "A shrewd businesswoman," Miervaldis murmured next to her. Alyn glanced up.


    "My lord?"


    He looked down with a crooked smile.


    "It will be Jaquan''s cousin who claimed blood debt, the one I spoke to at his funeral. He can afford it, of course." Alyn remembered the woman, her cold, correct manner and her comments on her cousin. It wasn''t difficult to believe she''d made the claim, although going straight to the Sun Court showed a fair nerve.


    The herald stepped forward into the murmuring crowd and held his staff up for silence, grudgingly granted.


    "My lords, the privy court is over." He made a deep bow to the Emperor, and everyone else copied him except for Otakar, who had remained on the floor since the pronouncement of his sentence, head still bowed. The Emperor raised a hand to stay those within the circle even as the other lords rose and moved to leave. The herald came forward and urged Otakar to his feet, gently guiding him out. Alyn watched him go, wondered what would happen to him. Would he get his wish, to save face, to go out gracefully? The Emperor coughed and she hastily returned her attention to the front.


    "My lords Berinhard," he said, looking to Kadir and Pyrrhus. "I must tender my apologies to you for the inconvenience you have suffered. I am grateful that you were here for the judgement and to you, Lord Lysandros, for your care for your page."


    Pyrrhus looked totally awestruck and Kadir didn''t manage to say anything. Lord Lysandros bowed again.


    "You are very gracious, my lord Emperor," he said steadily.


    "If you would care to be my guests tonight, you may return home tomorrow morning," said the Emperor. "It is late to travel now."


    The herald came forwards again, perhaps responding to some signal Alyn didn''t see, and ushered the three away leaving only Alyn and Miervaldis before the Emperor. This time, he shut the doors behind him so they were truly alone.


    "I''m sorry I can''t offer you tea this time," the Emperor said, and the formal tone was gone from his voice. He sounded tired but relieved. "I wanted to thank you again for a job well done. Of course you are welcome to spend the night here and go home in the morning, but is there anything else you would ask of me before you leave?"


    Alyn drew in her breath. The Sun Emperor was offering them a favour? A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, 998 of which she dismissed as unworthy. The second to last she considered and reluctantly discarded, but the last...


    To her side, Miervaldis bowed.


    "It is my honour to serve you, my lord Emperor," he said, and Alyn heard only complete sincerity in his voice.


    "There is nothing I can offer you?" The Emperor sounded sad, making Alyn wonder if he''d made a similar offer before and been similarly rejected. Miervaldis declined with a smile and a shake of his head. Pursued by her thousandth thought, Alyn stepped forward, level with her lord, and bowed.


    "If I may, my lord Emperor?" Her voice was shaky, and she bit her lip.


    "Please."


    She swallowed. "My lord, I - I mean, what happened to Liliya, I don''t want it ever to happen again." The Emperor cocked his head, looking puzzled as far as she could tell through the veil. "I mean," she went on, searching for the right phrase, "it''s too easy for lords to abuse those who serve them. There should be, something should be done." She subsided, feeling like she hadn''t done the issue justice at all.


    "What would you suggest?"


    "My lord?"


    "What would you suggest should be done, Alyn? There are already laws, you should know that. I can ask for Lord Cassian''s behaviour to be investigated but that is too late for Liliya. How would you suggest I stop this happening in other Star Courts?"


    Alyn was mute, unable to think. Beside her, Miervaldis murmured something she couldn''t make out. He sounded amused.


    "Well," the Emperor said, after a little while, "I will make sure Lord Cassian is... dealt with, at any rate. But if you would have things change, Alyn, you must put in the effort. Write a report for me on how you would make the changes. I will read it, and consider it."


    "Thank you, my lord Emperor," she managed, breathless. The idea of writing a report for the Emperor himself was hideous - more work to do - but at the same time, the chance to actually do something, to help shape the policy of the Nine Star Courts... already ideas were coming into her head.


    "I would know something, Iarlaith."


    "Yes, my liege?"


    "When did you first suspect Otakar?"


    "I thought something was up when I spoke to Ythilda, the maid who discovered the body. She said the chamberlain told her to get a messenger first, before he told her to get a physicker. But that was before he''d even seen the body. Wouldn''t the natural response be to get the physicker first? Or even just to see the situation himself? He didn''t, because he knew the outcome. So, well, that''s when I thought he knew more than he claimed."


    "I see. Well, I am in your debt once again, Iarlaith. This is a bad habit you are forming in me."


    "You owe me no debt," Miervaldis returned and the Emperor laughed again quietly. Then he rose and turned; Miervaldis dropped to his knees again and Alyn copied him. There was a door in the wall behind the seat on the dais and the Emperor made for that, opening it to reveal a passage. Just before he left, he turned once more to face them.


    "I am truly grateful for your help," he said, then closed the door behind him. Miervaldis let out a breath but before they could even rise, the main door opened and yet another herald stood there. He bowed, stiffly.


    "My lord Miervaldis, I am here to guide you and your page to your rooms tonight."


    "Please, lead on," said Miervaldis cheerfully and Alyn tailed after him, looking forward to the comfortable Sun Court bed.


    In the morning breakfast was served in the same room as last time, the Hall of Morning Lights. A small boy, probably a different one from last time although Alyn wasn''t quite sure, led her there. The long table was once again loaded with food of all kinds and this time five chairs were arranged around it. Kadir, Pyrrhus and Lysandros were already seated; the boy showed her to the fourth seat and brought her tea. As she poured, Miervaldis came in, nodded genially to those present and took the last seat.


    It was an odd meal. No-one spoke. She got the distinct impression of embarrassment from Lord Lysandros, as though he wanted to apologise for his rudeness the day before but couldn''t quite bring himself to say anything. Pyrrhus clearly wanted to speak but didn''t dare; she caught him shooting meaningful glances in her direction, although she couldn''t quite interpret them. The fifth time he stared at her and raised his eyebrows she smiled and nodded and that seemed to satisfy him. Kadir ate steadily, only looking up occasionally. She couldn''t tell what he thought but his shoulders were stiff and tense even now.


    At the end of the meal, the herald came back, and announced their coaches were ready. They followed him to the little courtyard where their shoes were returned and then passed through the corridor building to the big square where two coaches were indeed waiting. Lysandros stopped, but Miervaldis carried on to the smaller coach.


    "Are you going to the Fourth Star Court?" he enquired.


    "Yes, m''lord," said the driver, bowing. Miervaldis nodded and climbed in, and Alyn followed. She watched as the others went to the other coach, not without several looks in their direction. Pyrrhus even waved a bit. Then their driver seated himself and picked up the reins and the horses started moving and before long she couldn''t see the others any more.


    "Are we going straight to Fourth Star Court, my lord?"


    "That''s right," said Miervaldis. "I didn''t really want to go back to Fifth Star Court, to be honest. My luggage can be sent on, I don''t need it anyway. And you didn''t have any this time, except that one change of clothes. Why, did you want to go back?"


    "No, my lord," Alyn said, and put her face next to the window, to watch the scenery going by and feel the fresh wind on her face. Too much had changed for her to feel like she was going home exactly, but it was where she wanted to be.


    ****


    Two months later, long after the furore had died down and Alyn had forgiven Miraina and the other pages, news came through from the Fifth Star Court. She would have missed it if it hadn''t been for Miervaldis. He had stayed in Fourth Star Court since their return, although he kept an erratic schedule, out more often than not and rarely needing her service. For her part, she had found it easy enough to slip back into the regular schedule of lessons and work and her lord''s occasional need for her service at meals was a change for the better from her first six months. She did find herself missing something from time to time, although she couldn''t quite put her finger on what it was. That morning he called for her after the lesson and she went up to his rooms at lunchtime and knocked on the door. It swung open. He was sitting on the dusty couch facing the door, with a large, heavy book on his lap and papers scattered about the floor. He held a carbon stick and his fingers were already smudged with its use.


    "Oh, Alyn, come in. I heard the news this morning - did you?"


    "No, my lord."


    "Oh, well. I thought you might like to know. Lord Cassian has stepped back from his duties, they say, and is taking a long rest due to, ah, nerves. He''s to be staying with a Community of the Espiridon Brothers. Have you heard of them?"


    "No, my lord."


    "They''re a very reclusive community, far to the west. They hold to strict vows of chastity, poverty and labour. Of course, there''s no evidence, but I rather suspect the Sun Court is behind that."


    Alyn drew in her breath. The idea was almost intoxicating, that this had happened because she had asked for it. She wondered briefly if the Emperor himself ever felt like that or if he was used to it, and that was a sad thought.


    Miervaldis was looking at her, one eyebrow raised. "Have you finished that report yet?"


    "No, my lord," she admitted, feeling guilty again. He was making her do it properly, reading up on all the laws involved and thinking through how to make it clearer both to the nobles and to those who served them what was permitted and what was not. And how to deal with it when it went wrong. It was hard work, but she was enjoying it on the whole. Recently, though, it had remained untouched for almost a week and she was conscious of the need to get on with it. Thankfully Miervaldis didn''t pursue it any further.


    "There''s one more thing," he said, looking up at her with a smile. "News of an engagement. Lord Kadir Berinhard of the Eighth Star Court will marry Lady Aithne Cassian of the Fifth Star Court next spring."


    "Oh, that''s wonderful!"


    "It is. I rather doubt we shall be invited, I''m afraid." Alyn hadn''t really thought they would be, but now bristled on her lord''s behalf. He held up his hand, laughing. "I haven''t been not invited yet, don''t worry. But I rather think they''d prefer to forget about that unpleasant little episode." He shrugged, setting it aside, his fingers still playing with the long carbon stick as though they wanted to get back to work.


    "We can always send them flowers," he said, and smiled.