Beyond the bridge was a simple but elegant dock carved from mandack wood, its supports engraved with the busts of Imperial saints. But a faint scent of mildew clung to the bark and, though it had been painted a brilliant white, faint patches of mould were visible beneath the emulsion.

Still, I did not pay this much thought, for at the dock’s end hovered one of the most ostentatious pleasure yachts I have ever seen. Superficially, it was sleek to the point of minimalism, but the opulence lay in subtle details: the gems glittering along its pulpit, and the silken cushions upon which its occupants could recline during the journey. There was no obvious means of propulsion, the anti-gravity generators cunningly concealed within the hull, the only evidence of their presence the boat’s unwillingness to touch the water, and the slight distortion in the waves beneath it.

The vessel was manned, the servant at the helm clad in pristine white robes, two other crew members lurking towards the rear. But the cushions were notably unoccupied, and though a gangplank was lowered, I suspected this was a test of etiquette. I was expected to await my host, and she would take the opportunity to keep me waiting some time.

Kikazar, who had bobbed behind me all this while, approached the vessel, only veering away at the last moment, its motors skittering uncertainly.

‘Your familiar has good instincts,’ Stylee observed, as a small insect, no bigger than my hand, glided lazily towards the yacht. It was a foot from the hull when it abruptly burst into flames, an energy field of blue light flaring at the point of impact.

I glared at Stylee. ‘A warning would have been appreciated. I could have lost my seer-skull.’

‘My apologies,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘It must have slipped my mind.’

It was sweltering on the dock, with no trees to provide shade. I felt sweat pooling in the small of my back and beneath my armpits, an unpleasant sensation at the best of times, and worse when one is about to share a confined space with an aristocrat. I already knew I had lost Dolos’ favour, but I would have preferred not to offend her with my smell. Stylee was ­untroubled by the heat, and I began to re-evaluate his choice of robes, suspecting they had properties that shielded him from the sun. I directed Kikazar to ­position itself to shade my face.