Clariel returned his bow, a second slower than her parents. She was thinking about Kilp and Aronzo armed and armoured, and her empty sleeve and generally weaponless state. But surely there could be no real danger … not when they had arrived so openly, and Jaciel an important figure in the Guild … If there was danger, it would not be a danger that could be met by a dagger from her sleeve or boot.

But still she felt wary, more on edge than ever, and the edginess would not leave her, no matter that she told herself she was jumping at shadows. She just had to get through the dinner, and the night beyond. In the new day she would see Kargrin and get out.

‘Please, be seated,’ said Kilp. He clapped his hands. Four servants entered in answer, each carrying a tall silver ewer of wine. They did not ask what the guests would prefer, but simply filled the four goblets in front of each of them. A waste, Clariel thought, but typical of the showing off that Aronzo seemed to like. He’d obviously inherited the trait from his father.

‘I wanted us to have a small, private dinner,’ said Kilp as they sat. Aronzo was next to Clariel, but she edged her chair away and angled her legs, so that Aronzo’s questing foot could not touch her own. ‘The two leading families of the city.’

‘Will your lady wife be joining us?’ asked Jaciel, indicating the empty chair. ‘I have not seen her for some time.’

‘I fear Marget is ill,’ said Kilp, with a sigh that did not alter the coldness of his predatory eyes. ‘As you know, the poor dear suffers from many ailments.’

‘You are equipped for battle,’ said Harven. ‘And the Trained Bands have been called out. Should we postpone this dinner? I … We would not wish to get in the way of whatever … whatever is occurring.’

Kilp waved one hand in a relaxed dismissal.

‘It is nothing of any great consequence. A rabble of rioters has proclaimed they will march upon this house and present their “demands” to me. Malcontents from the Flat, who have no stomach for honest work. But they could be annoying, damage property of guildmembers and so forth, so we will essay forth and … contain their protest … before they get anywhere important. Let them stone their own windows and burn their own hovels, I say. We will keep them penned in, have no fear of that!’

‘What are their demands?’ asked Clariel.

‘Who knows?’ said Kilp. ‘They want this and that, changing by the day or even hour. They complain of too much work, or not enough … The truth is they need firm handling. But enough of this, these troublemakers will occupy too much of my night as it stands. Let us talk of other things, and begin to eat.’