Clariel’s new guard was standing in the courtyard, near the front gate, watching two of Jaciel’s workmen stacking sacks of charcoal. She was rather surprised to see he was both shorter and even thinner than she was, and much older, probably at least thirty, if not more. His eyes were hooded, and he did not look at all agreeable. As Clariel left the stairs and walked closer, she saw he had a Charter mark on his forehead, the baptismal symbol that was the visible sign of a connection to the Charter. So he was at least capable of wielding Charter Magic, though the forehead mark itself meant little without a lifetime devoted to learning and practice.

But the guard’s forehead mark was mostly concealed by the red bandanna he wore, and would be totally hidden when he put on the open-faced helmet he held at his side. His surcoat showed the golden cup of the Guild, but it was done in a dyed yellow thread, not even a part gold alloy. The hauberk of gethre plates he wore under it was short, reaching only to mid-thigh, and did not meet his knee-high leather boots. A sword hung in its drab scabbard on the left side of his broad belt, and thrust through the belt on the right side was a narrow club of some dark, heavy wood.

He turned as Clariel approached, bowed his head and snapped to attention.

‘Good morning, milady,’ he said, without a flicker of emotion in his eyes or face. ‘My name is Roban. I have been assigned by the Guild to guard you when you go about the city.’

‘Thank you,’ said Clariel. ‘Um, why do I need to be guarded? We got here without any guards.’

‘Actually, we were with you from several leagues outside the High Gate, milady,’ replied Roban. ‘Incognito, being as the Lady Jaciel wasn’t yet admitted to the guild.’

He didn’t look at Clariel, but at a point somewhere above her right shoulder. It almost felt like he wasn’t talking to her, but reporting to some invisible officer who was hovering above her head.

‘Did you really follow us in?’ asked Clariel. ‘Why?’

‘Orders, milady,’ replied Roban, not actually answering the question.

Before Clariel could continue, she was interrupted by the bustling arrival of Valannie, who was always bustling, constantly on the move, busy doing something or organising other people to do things. She was probably only ten years older than Clariel, and certainly did not look prematurely aged, but there was something about her that made her seem much older than anyone else around. She reminded Clariel of her grandmother, her father’s mother, who had been just such a managing person.