Uzzia had somehow preserved a decent set of clothes through the vicissitudes of the journey, even the robbery. But she stuck to her own style. She wore a tunic and breeches with a wide belt and boots with turned-up toes, the way a Hatti prince might dress in New Hattusa, but she pinned back her hair with a golden comb, and applied cosmetics to her face, a white base with bright red spots on forehead and cheeks. Avatak couldn’t help but stare at the result, and she grinned. ‘I am what I am,’ she said. ‘I am Hatti. I am Uzzia. I like to show both sides.’

Pyxeas and Avatak wore clothes loaned by their hosts. Avatak found himself in a brightly coloured blouse and breeches, and a round felt hat. The material felt impossibly soft against his skin. Pyxeas dressed similarly, but oddly the clothes fit Avatak better. His round Coldlander frame was more like a Mongol’s than Pyxeas’, and the scholar speculated about some ancient relationship between their peoples. Uzzia complimented them both gravely, but Avatak could tell she was laughing inside. As a reminder of who he was, and despite Pyxeas’ protests, he tore a strip of sealskin fur from one of his blankets and tied it around his waist like a belt.

So they were led to the palace.

The palace compound was a city within a city, enclosed within its own substantial walls. Avenues paved with shining mosaics were filled with neat houses, and grand tree-lined ways led from the walls to the central square where the palace itself stood. Avatak spotted a tremendous lake, contained by the walls, formed by the damming of a river; tall, elegant birds waded among reeds.

Ferocious-looking guards at the doors, both Mongol and Cathay-born, scrutinised Pyxeas’ paiza.

Once inside the palace itself they were instructed to remove their boots and shoes, and don soft white slippers to protect the floors, all of which were carpeted. They walked almost noiselessly down a long corridor, and Pyxeas murmured that they must keep their voices down for fear of disturbing the Khan. But Avatak had been told the palace had a thousand rooms, and he thought it unlikely the Khan would be close enough to hear them.

They were brought through a grand set of doors to a tremendous room, so vast that to Avatak it was almost as if he had stepped outdoors. The room was brightly lit by tall windows and by lanterns on the walls, the carpet, brilliant white, was so wide and empty it was like a snow field, and the walls were crusted with vivid paintings, of birds and dragons and lions, warriors and half-naked women. The walls were many times taller than a man’s height, and looking up Avatak saw a ceiling similarly coated with dazzling art.