When we came to the church, the Father bid me goodnight and good luck with my investigations. Then, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, he stopped on the church path and said, ‘You spoke of enemies, Inspector, but the Harssons have many friends in Drekenford.’

‘Perhaps you might introduce me to some of them?’ I said.

‘Perhaps you might attend our services?’

I smiled at his neat work, and said I would try. I made my way back to the inn, deep in thought. Apocalyptic visions notwithstanding, I was beginning to believe this matter would not be resolved swiftly or simply.

The King, apparently, disagreed.

*

In the almost empty common room Mrs Lehner welcomed me from behind the bar, once again emphasising my title. The two men sitting at the bar sat straighter as if I were somehow about to inspect them. Those few at the tables eyed me warily. A warning bell could not have been more effective.

‘Another letter came for you, Inspector,’ she said.

I took the envelope from her, recognising the seal. I requested food and wine sent to my room.

‘Important letters can’t wait, Inspector. Don’t you worry – you’ll be taken care of here.’

I hurried upstairs and, with my door closed, I examined the seal. There was no sign of tampering. I sat at the desk, opened the letter, and read it slowly. Then once more, to be sure I understood.

War was coming.

In the chief inspector’s terse and blunt way he confirmed that a second regiment of the King’s army was due to join the dragoons at the end of the month, by All Hallows’ Eve, and that Drekenford would then form the staging point for a large-scale offensive against the southern tribes. The King himself insisted that I use every method, source, and ability at my disposal to ensure the investigation be drawn to a conclusion before that offensive.

I carefully put the letter down on the desk, as if those heavy words were somehow fragile. What possible bearing could my investigation have on the King’s wild ambition? I appreciated that magic and its misuse was concerning for the crown – hence my entire employment. But never in all my years had the King taken personal interest in the outcome of a case. And once again there was a hint of the impossible: that the King somehow knew of my visions. They were a part of myself I had never shared with anyone. Not even my day-brother appeared aware of them, let alone experienced them himself.

I was still dumbly contemplating this when there was a soft knock at the door. I folded the letter and then called for them to enter. The serving girl didn’t look at me as she set down the tray.

‘One moment,’ I said.

She stopped by the door. ‘That’s all the beef the kitchen has.’

‘And I’m sure it is fine. I wondered, did you know Gregory Harsson?’

‘No.’

‘Not even a little? Not even to look at?’ I said.