Even with the steadiness of the bearer’s step, there was a small amount of swaying and tilting, rather like being on a barge. Clariel had been on a barge once, when she travelled with her father along the Metal Canal that took silver ore from the mine at Mount Shulle to Ponstayn, where it was smelted and refined. She had not particularly enjoyed the experience, disliking the mine and the metalworking town. They were far to the west of her beloved Estwael and surrounded by clear-felled dales, the nearer woods gone for lumber long ago. Her father had liked it though, perhaps because he was seen as a significant figure there, being an important buyer of silver and not just Jaciel’s husband.

There wasn’t much to see out the closest coin-size hole in the palanquin’s curtains apart from even more houses of white stone. There weren’t even many people, probably because they were being herded out of the way by the guards that accompanied the palanquins on every side. Despite the presence of the guards, Clariel regretted that she had only her smallest dagger, and nowhere to hide a larger weapon, since she’d been forced to wear slippers of a soft silver mesh fabric rather than boots.

With nothing to see, Clariel turned away from the peephole, remembering to do it slowly so as not to invite criticism from Valannie for cracking her face paint. She hoped this would be her first and last ride in a palanquin, because it was getting even more airless, and the slight swaying motion was making her feel sleepy, but not in a good or comfortable way.

It should be one of the last, at least, she told herself. She would go to Magister Kargrin tomorrow, get her money and a disguise and leave. It would probably be best if she was disguised as a man, which she had done before herself, without the aid of Charter Magic. She smiled as she suddenly thought of what a magic disguise might do. If she was bespelled to look like a man, would that go so far as to give her the parts of a man, to look at, at least? That would dissuade even the most suspicious, if it came to that kind of inspection …

The sudden, sharp sound of metal on metal brought her out of this amusing daydream and she shot upright with her hand on her knife, legs swinging towards the curtain, before Valannie managed to raise her hands in alarm and cry out.

‘Milady! It’s only the metal stars in the road, under the guard’s hobnails!’

Clariel’s hand slowly came out of her sleeve, but she did not lie back.

‘What stars?’

‘We are on the Avenue of Stars,’ said Valannie. ‘There are many tiny stars set in the flagstones. It is a wonder of the city.’