‘Cellar of an inn near what was once the Winter Palace, when the current Palace was smaller and only used in summer,’ said Kargrin. He was nearly completely out of the Charter skin now; it looked like he was standing on a pair of giant mole feet that had been cleanly separated from the rest of its body.

‘How did you find me?’

‘My rats followed Kilp,’ said Kargrin. ‘I knew about the prison holes, from when I was Castellan. They were filled with rubble when the Winter Palace was demolished more than a century ago, but yours was dug out by Kilp’s people. Fairly recently. I doubt it was planned for you. I suspect he probably had me in mind for it. How are you feeling? Up to running?’

‘Yes,’ said Clariel. ‘And fighting, too.’

‘We’d best hope not,’ said Kargrin. He had folded the Charter skin down smaller and smaller until it was no larger than a pocket handkerchief. He carefully put this in a pouch on his belt – the Charter skin had been worn over his clothes, even including his sword and boots – and wriggled his shoulders and shook his feet. ‘Always feel grubby after wearing the moleskin. When we get the all-clear we can go upstairs. The innkeeper is a former Royal Guard. He’s shut up for the day. We can look out on the street from the common room. There shouldn’t be too long to wait. I hope.’

‘To wait for what?’ asked Clariel.

‘Bel is going to land a Paperwing in the street and pick you up,’ said Kargrin.

‘Really?’ asked Clariel. She had seen Paperwings a few times. They were magical craft made of laminated paper, every inch of their fabric deeply imbued with Charter marks. They flew like birds, and could carry two or even three people, presuming the Charter Mage flying the craft could successfully work the wind. ‘Is Bel strong enough to be doing that? Where could it land? The one I saw in Estwael came down in the park, it glided along the ground like a … a pelican landing on water.’

‘I hope Bel is up to it,’ said Kargrin. ‘I would not ask it of him save that there is no one else who can fly the Paperwing. As for landing, we’re on Old Nevil Street here. It’s broad and straight, and there are few people about since Kilp announced a curfew and restricted the day workers to the Flat.’

‘What is happening?’ asked Clariel. ‘Kilp told me my mother survived, but I’m sure she couldn’t have.’

Kargrin rubbed his nose and wrinkled it up and down a few times.

‘Mole lingering. Hmmm. That is interesting to know. What did happen at the Governor’s House?’

‘Kilp … he … they killed my parents …’

Clariel found it very hard to say those words.