‘You will,’ said Tyriel. ‘It won’t be as bad as you seem to imagine. The Abhorsen’s House is very pleasant. It has gardens, there is fishing, and a multitude of sendings to tend to you. Some of them are even remarkably fine cooks.’

‘And jailers?’ asked Clariel.

‘For your own safety, they will make sure you do not leave the House,’ said Tyriel. There was a tone in his voice that brooked no further questions. Clariel sighed and let her head slump back.

‘Can you walk? I expect you would feel more dignified than if you have to be carried to a horse – I presume you can ride, for that matter? Your mother loved to ride.’

‘Did she?’ asked Clariel woozily. She rolled over and managed to push herself up to a sitting position. ‘She never got on a horse unless we had to travel. But I can ride well enough. And walk … Just give me a minute or two.’

‘Take your time,’ he said. ‘It’s a short ride along the riverbank.’

When Clariel was ready to walk, they didn’t go back down the secret or semi-secret stair, but instead down a broad and open staircase at the far end of the mews balcony. This went all the way down to ground level, ending in a kind of alley between buildings. There were grooms waiting there holding horses, and a dozen or so people already mounted. Half of them wore gethre plate hauberks, with shields, helmets, spears and swords; and the other half in lighter mail without shields, but they had short bows in saddle-cases above their left knees and quivers on their right. They were the first inhabitants of Hillfair that Clariel had seen not wearing hunting clothes.

‘I doubt that there are any assassins lurking so close,’ said Tyriel. ‘But I am a great believer in caution, it cannot be overrated. You are sure you can ride?’

‘Yes,’ said Clariel. She felt less shaky now, and was determined that she would not be treated any more like a prisoner – or a parcel – than was absolutely necessary. And if there was even the slightest chance she could get away … she would take it.

‘The bay mare there is yours,’ said Tyriel. ‘She’s called Digger, after an incident long ago, but she has a sweet nature now.’

‘Sweet nature’ meant sluggish and docile, Clariel realised as she mounted. Digger didn’t want to do more than a walk, and had to be strongly encouraged when Tyriel and the entourage broke into a trot as they cleared the stables on the northern end of Hillfair. Clariel noted that the heavily armoured guards stayed close around her and the Abhorsen. Shielding them from arrow-shot, no doubt, but also making sure Clariel couldn’t gallop off. Something Digger couldn’t or wouldn’t do anyway, the choice of such a mount surely intentional.