‘Yes, mother,’ replied Clariel. Jaciel did look very regal, she thought. She was proud of her mother, as a truly great Goldsmith and artist. But she had often wished that she could swap this grand personage for someone easier to get on with. Her aunt Lemmin, for example. Jaciel would actually be a better aunt than mother, she thought. Good for gifts and visits and influence, without needing to offer much actual love or time …

‘Milady?’

Clariel blinked. Valannie was holding back the red and gold curtains of the nearer palanquin, and a block had been placed to make it easier to climb inside. Clariel had never ridden in a palanquin before. It seemed stupid to her to be carried by people when you could walk yourself. But as Captain Gullaine had explained to her the night before, it was the usual protocol to arrive at the Palace by palanquin, or on horseback if given leave to ride within the city, but this was usually reserved for royal couriers or other special messengers.

The interior of the palanquin was padded with cushioned velvet on all surfaces, so much so Clariel wasn’t sure exactly where she was supposed to sit. She climbed in and positioned herself at one end, discovering that there was a depression amid all the cushioning, though it made her not so much sit as recline. Valannie climbed in the other end, carrying her cedarwood case of cosmetics, and twitched the curtains closed. There were small holes to see out, disguised on the outside as gold coins against the red, but they didn’t offer much of a view. Or let in much air, so it was quite stifling inside.

‘Please remember to keep as still as possible, milady,’ said Valannie anxiously. ‘I will retouch your face, of course, but please do try to keep it undisturbed.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ muttered Clariel. She settled back and slowly turned her head so she could see out through one of the small holes. One saving grace about being trapped in a palanquin with Valannie was that the maid probably wouldn’t talk too much, not wanting to crack her own face paint, or encourage Clariel to answer and destroy the last hour of work.

There were eight bearers carrying the palanquin. Clariel could hear them whispering a kind of marching song to one another to help them keep in step and make sure the ride stayed level. She smiled as she recognised the chant; it was a song the Borderers sang, though with ruder words.

I once loved a lover but I left … right … left

Never find another as right … left … right

Should I have left … right … left … right …

I once loved another but I left … right …

Should’ve listened to Mother right … left … right

But I’d still have left … right … left … right …