Mrs Fredericks was stunned to silence.

‘The only one more bored of his singing than I is his fiancée.’ Mrs Channock nodded at the young woman slouched in her seat next to Olesca. ‘What does that tell you?’

I had yet to be introduced to Louisa, but my first impression was of a young woman disappointed by everything she saw; no doubt why the magistrate’s wife felt such an affinity with her. Her long, straight hair covered much of her brow and half her face. She barely touched her soup, idly stirring it as a listless child might. Her fiancé did not look at her once, let alone speak to her, during the entire dinner. I wondered aloud how the two found themselves engaged.

‘Odd couple, aren’t they?’ Mrs Channock said. ‘Our good hosts say he came north to Reikova to make a fresh start, a new world. It was quite the surprise for us all when that included marrying the Eder’s eldest.’

‘I confess, I know little of courtship in the younger generations.’

‘Do you confess a lot, Inspector?’ She laughed. ‘No need to look so alarmed. I quite enjoy confessions – I understand why Father Popov skips to work each day.’

‘I can see I am outmatched, madam.’

‘Then you see more than my husband.’

Mrs Fredericks had been following our conversation, wide-eyed and, I believed, against her better judgement. She almost choked on her soup twice. More dishes were added to the table, and I used the change of course as an opportunity to excuse myself and visit the bathroom.

I was the only one to do so. The butler who had announced me earlier now directed me along the hallway. I passed under the gaze of yet more stags – these were at least painted rather than stuffed. I began to wonder if this animal was an obsession of the mayor’s, until I saw something, beside the entrance to a study, which suggested it was much more than that.

A vibrant tapestry depicted a coat of arms, dominated by two resplendent stags. I was no scholar of Reikovan history, let alone its heraldry, but even to my ignorant eye it was impossible to mistake the royal nature of the arms. Each stag wore a crown that bore an obvious resemblance to the King’s own, and the heraldic shield itself was topped by the same crown. Mottos adorned the arms and ran along the edges of the thick tapestry, the lettering thin stitches of gold. They were almost sunk into the tapestry so I had to peer closely before I realised the mottos were in Ketts.

And to think I had been worried that my northern accent and mannerisms would embarrass me as a foreigner in those parts! Instead, I found myself sung to by a boy from the southern tribes, in a house festooned with Kettoman heraldry.

A polite cough from the butler down the hallway, undoubtedly for my benefit, reminded me of my purpose. I turned left, as instructed, but before I came to my destination I was presented with something of a dilemma: an open door.