‘Listen,’ I said to the portress, ‘if I’m not down in thirty minutes, call Logan at the Mrs Nesbit’s station branch and tell him he needs a new Novice.’

‘Shall I just call him now?’

I gave her a glare that was totally wasted. She said ‘Okey-dokey’, then returned to her magazine.

I picked up the bouzouki and followed the medic into the elevator, smiled, apologised and double-clicked the button I’d seen he’d already pressed – the twenty-first floor. The doors closed and I felt my heart start to thump. I could see the man was wearing scrubs underneath his suit and he looked at me suspiciously, then at the bouzouki, which was probably the best disguise one could have. Winter Consuls don’t carry musical instruments. And even if they did, it would never be a bouzouki. A viola, maybe. Or a tuba.

‘I had an aunt who played the guitar,’ said the medic.

‘It’s not a guitar,’ I said in a calm voice, surprising myself.

He sighed deeply.

‘She wasn’t my aunt. Winterplayer?’

I thought quickly.

‘I’m accompanying a  . . . pantomime horse act.’

‘Which end do you play?’

‘I’m the arse. Our equestrian gavotte is to die for.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out for it.’

The lift doors opened on the twenty-first floor. I trod the worn carpet behind the man in the scrubs until he stopped at a bedroom where I wished him sound napping, then continued to where the circular corridor would place me out of sight. I waited until I heard the latch click shut, then doubled back to the door to listen. There seemed to be a discussion going on inside, and to a mixture of relief and dismay, I heard Foulnap’s voice clearly.

I took the Bambi from my holster, noted my hand was shaking, replaced it and retraced my steps to the elevator lobby, where I paced back and forth, pondering whether high ideals actually were a luxury – something to aim for, rather than to try and attain on my first Winter. I could walk away now, tell Logan I couldn’t find her, and that would be it. I could start my career properly, alive and having learned an important lesson.

I pressed my forehead against the cold doors of the elevator. Sister Zygotia had been a harsh critic and guardian – and, yes, a terror with a scrubbing brush at bath time – but had always maintained that one followed the course of honesty and righteousness, no matter what. If I walked away now it wouldn’t be the start of my career, it would be the end.

I paused to gather my thoughts, drew my Bambi again, and then, with a hard knot of fear and nausea in the pit of my stomach, walked back down the corridor. I stopped outside Foulnap’s room, and with shaking hand unlocked the door with my Omnikey and let it swing open.