Written on parchment next to the flagons was a riddle.

My left is in dress and trousers and suit

No key however will unlock my loot.

My right is in feline, bold and proud

Only a fop would wear this shroud.

I read through it several times. Shroud had obvious implications – was that choice of words a red herring? I frowned, trying to work out what it meant.

‘Dress, trousers, suit,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Material? Cloth? Zip?’ My brain felt cloudy: the harder I thought, the more elusive the answer seemed to be.

The word ‘fop’ stood out, not just because it was old-fashioned but it wasn’t the sort of word a Sidhe would use. Could fop stand for something else? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think. All I associated with the word ‘fop’ was a dandy like the Carnegie MC. A dandy feline.

‘Dandelion,’ I whispered. I opened my eyes and stared at the flagon on the right. It had to contain essence of dandelion which was entirely harmless. And the flagon on the left was… I grinned. Hemlock. That was the one to avoid.

Without wasting any more time, I grabbed the right flagon and poured myself a shot, muttered, ‘Bottom’s up,’ and downed it in one.

It tasted earthy and fragrant. I held my breath in case I’d made a mistake but the door in front of me opened and the crowd outside roared, either in approval or dismay. I couldn’t help throwing my arms in the air in delight.

‘Sorry, Angus,’ I whispered. Then I moved round the table just as another competitor ran up behind me.

I twisted my head to watch Tipsania. She didn’t even look at Angus and neither did she read the riddle – she simply poured from the same flagon that I had. She couldn’t have seen what I’d done because she’d been too far behind. I gritted my teeth. No – she already knew which one to choose. I rolled my eyes and ran on. Honour. It was a waste of breath to say the word around here.

The one thing in my favour was that the maze was too complicated for anyone to memorise. All I had to do was move faster to give myself more time at any stations like the last one and I could still do this. I ran even faster, still only turning left. Although the audience weren’t visible, they could obviously see what was going on. As I sprinted ahead, I could hear more and more people yelling my name. That was good; it meant I was doing well.

I hit another dead end and spun round, dirt flying up around my ankles. When I turned the next corner, I saw a long, long corridor stretching in front of me.

I stopped, warily. The corridor had to be a hundred feet long. I glanced from side to side. With my blurry reflection bouncing back at me from various angles, and with my white hair falling down my back, I looked a ghost. An avenging ghost, I amended.