‘Oh please, not a tea ceremony,’ muttered Clariel. Gullaine smiled and indicated for Clariel to go ahead of her, out into the sunshine. Clariel went, blinking at the brighter light, and found herself on the wide battlements of a very high wall. It was built directly above the sea cliffs, and the waves rolling in below delivered a regular, dull thud like a muffled drum. There was another tower some forty paces ahead but she paid it little notice, for King Orrikan III was close by, sitting on a well-cushioned chair pulled right up next to an embrasure.

He was smaller than she’d expected, and looked older, if that were possible. He had a red-and-gold skullcap on his head, tilted back to show his Charter mark, with wisps of pure white hair escaping out from under the cap, his long beard flying over his shoulder, caught by the sea wind. His skin was red and quite shiny, particularly his nose, which was long and rather pointed. His eyes, when he looked over at Clariel, were dark brown and very weary.

‘Come, child,’ he said, passing his teacup to a servant in red-and-gold livery who stood behind his chair. A faint smile crossed his mouth as the cat-beast loped past Clariel and sat on his feet. The sending had got smaller, Clariel noticed, which was just as well. It wouldn’t have been able to fit between battlements and chair otherwise.

‘They know the family,’ said King Orrikan. ‘But you have more of the look of the Abhorsens, I think. Not much of my side from your grandmother, my cousin Leomeh.’

‘I never knew her, Your Highness,’ said Clariel, coming close and bowing low.

‘Yes, she died quite young,’ said the King. ‘Many of the best do. It is only old relics like myself who hang on too long. Now, where is that drawing?’

‘Um, what drawing …’ Clariel started to say, when the servant who’d taken the teacup silently proffered a scroll to the King, evidently the drawing in question. He took it and unrolled it slowly, his bent, arthritic hands barely able to hold the paper.

‘Ah,’ said the King, as he finally got it unfurled. The finely detailed drawing showed a woman in armour on a wall, standing with one foot up in an embrasure, looking out. ‘Go and stand just so, girl, over there.’

‘Yes, Your Highness,’ replied Clariel, stepping up into the embrasure. She turned about and gave Gullaine a puzzled look, but the older woman didn’t say anything.

‘Give her your helmet, Gully,’ called out the King. ‘Can’t tell otherwise.’

Gullaine unbuckled her helmet and held it out to Clariel.

‘It’s to see if you look like someone,’ the Captain said. ‘In the drawing.’

‘No it isn’t,’ said the King, who despite his great age obviously wasn’t deaf, for Gullaine had spoken quietly. ‘It’s to see if you are the woman in the drawing.’