‘I’ve got the idea. Now I have, anyway.’

‘Don’t you forget it. In.’

Dalip lifted the latch, pushed, and the door swung open. It was as light inside as when he’d left it, with all the candles ringing the various balconies in the drum-shaped room.

No chair, though. Not this time.

The door closed behind him, and he looked up to see the woman in white and gold, seated behind the balustrade, and standing next to her, the man with the silver-tipped cane.

‘I never give second chances,’ she said. ‘Tell me why I should make an exception for you.’

‘I’m more likely to tell you the truth now, than later, when I’ll tell you whatever I think you want to hear, just so you might stop hurting me.’

She frowned, a shadow on her pale forehead. ‘A good answer. But I have all the answers I need for now, and I’m disappointed that it was you who prevented me from taking the coloured girl. So now you have to make amends.’

She nodded, and the man with the cane threw something at his feet. It bounced and clattered, making Dalip jump back. When it had stopped moving, he could see it was a knife, with a long blade and a short crossguard. Not a kitchen knife, but a combat knife.

He looked down at it, but didn’t pick it up.

‘What am I supposed to do with that?’

‘You’re not a child, are you?’ said the man. ‘Do we need a wet-nurse to flop her teat out and suckle you?’

Dalip had done Shakespeare. He knew what those terms meant, but he wondered why the man would use them as insults.

‘I’m not here to fight.’

‘Then why are you here?’

Dalip thought that a very good question.

The door opened again. No one stepped through, but Dalip turned and saw something crouching there, two eyes reflecting the golden light back at him. A dog. Not a good dog for certain, he could tell by the way its hackles were up and its teeth were slowly becoming bared.

The geomancer gave an open-handed gesture towards the knife. ‘Take the knife. Show me how brave you really are. Or,’ she seemed amused by the idea, ‘fail and have your throat ripped out.’

Dalip slowly bent down and his hand felt for the knife’s handle. The dog started growling, deep in the back of its throat. He pulled his hand back, and it stopped. He reached forward again; it began snarling again, and took one step forward. This time, when he eased his hand away, the animal took another step. Closer, always closer.

Dalip curled his fingers into a fist, feeling the weight of the blade for the first time. This was his new reality and he needed to embrace it fully.

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