‘Everything isn’t always what it seems,’ said Roban quietly, watching her with wary eyes. ‘I didn’t know you had a knife. Or that you could use it.’

‘I’m a hunter!’ spat Clariel, too loudly, the force of her words helping rekindle the anger she had tamped back down. She took a breath, slowly releasing it, expelling the rage as her lungs emptied. This anger came upon her rarely, but she knew she had to be careful of its consequences. She had kept it suppressed since she was old enough to realise what it could lead her to. In the rage, Clariel was not herself.

‘I see,’ muttered Roban. ‘Are you all right?’

Clariel knew what he really meant was ‘Have you got yourself under control?’

‘Yes,’ she said, sheathing her knife back in its special place inside her boot. Her hand was trembling, and she felt strangely weak, as if her knees might fold and she would tumble to the ground. She took a deep breath and managed to stand fully upright, but she was very wobbly on her feet.

Only then did Roban come closer. He put his hand under her elbow to steady her and leaned close to whisper.

‘Just go along with this for the moment. All right?’

‘Only if you explain why you stopped me.’

‘Later,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Not safe here.’

‘Oh, milady,’ cried Valannie, hurrying over. She was the only one heading towards Clariel. The previously crowded street was emptying fast. People were disappearing into shops and houses, or retreating back up the street, a tide of humanity most definitely on the ebb.

Valannie looked at Roban, who gave a slight nod, filled his lungs and shouted.

‘Goldsmiths! Goldsmiths! To me! A guard! A guard!’

His cry was answered swiftly. Far more swiftly than would usually be the case, suspected Clariel. Shouts came from several directions, repeating his words, and within a few minutes the heavy tramp of many boots upon the paved street could be heard, accompanied by the clatter and jangle of arms and armour.

‘What is going on?’ asked Clariel. She could feel her strength returning, and stepped away from Roban’s supporting hand.

‘A vicious attack upon a goldsmith’s daughter,’ said Valannie. ‘Terrible it is. You were lucky not to be killed.’

‘No I wasn’t,’ protested Clariel. ‘It was –’

‘Shock,’ interrupted Roban urgently. His right eye half closed in a desperate, slow wink. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock. But you’re safe now. Look, here come the Guard.’