‘Bah, Kilp! He’s simply the Governor of the city, and I’m sure he’s happy with that,’ said Jaciel. She wasn’t looking at her daughter now. Her eyes were out of focus, dreaming of some unseen, distant object, almost certainly the Dropstone salt cellar or the imagining of a work of her own that would surpass the ancient master. ‘You make too much of this, as always, Clariel.’

‘No I don’t,’ said Clariel calmly. ‘You are immersed in your work, Mother. You have no idea what is going on in the city. I admit that I don’t know enough either, but I do know that I don’t want to be part of the politics and the plotting. I’m going to go back to Estwael. I’m going to live in the Great Forest as a hunter.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ snapped Jaciel. ‘We’ve been over this before. No! Not another word on the subject. I am grateful to you for procuring the salt cellar, but do not imagine this gives you licence to behave like a spoiled five year old!’

Clariel opened her mouth, her lips almost curving into a snarl, but she managed to shut it again. Anger boiled up inside her, the rage threatening to take hold. Clariel forced it back by will alone, starting the breathing exercises she’d learned from The Fury Within. There was no point in continuing to talk, Clariel thought. She would simply go to Magister Kargrin’s tomorrow, take the money, allow him to disguise her with Charter Magic, and flee.

The whispered chant of the bearers provided a backing rhythm to her breathing exercises. Her breath came slowly in and went slowly out, as she imagined the calm place the book told her was of central importance in restraining the fury. She pictured her favourite glade in the Forest, where two clear, cold creeks met, and two ancient willows curved overhead to make an arch. She had often lain there on her belly, tickling the trout under the red stone ledge … There she was, the dappled sunshine on her back, her arm in the water up to her elbow, still as a stone herself, the fish brushing her fingers …

It only occurred to her much later that Jaciel was probably doing the same thing, and her mother’s calm place lay in her work. There they were, two people who were so much the same, retreating into their inner worlds, one of the Forest, one of gold. Both steadying their breathing, slowing mind and body as they restrained the fury that was their birthright.