They walked slowly up a steep road, Merolanna dripping with every step, into the open, rain-sprinkled cobbles of Blossom Market Square—not a place to buy flowers, but the venerable home of the mainland fish market, whose famous stink had been jestingly memorialized in its name. Other than the still-pungent memories of market days past, the square seemed empty now, the awnings and tents gone, the people all fled to the castle or to cities further south, but Utta could not rid herself of the sense of being watched. If anything, it grew stronger as she walked with the duchess across the open space, so that each step seemed slower and more difficult, as though the mist was getting into her very bones, making them sodden and heavy. It was almost a relief when a figure stepped out of a shadowed arch at the edge of the market and stood waiting for them.

Utta had prepared herself for virtually anything, her imagination fueled by the books in the castle library and the tales of her Vuttish grandmother. She was ready for giants, or monsters, or even beautiful, godlike creatures. She was not as well prepared for an ordinary mortal man in a simple, homespun robe.

“Good afternoon to you,” he said. Utta thought he must be one of the few who had stayed behind, although it seemed impossible he should have come unhurt and unchanged through the Twilight folk’s conquest of the city. She could see now that there was something strange about him, something not quite right, and as he approached she found herself shying back.

“No need to fear me.” He turned and bowed to Merolanna. “You are the duchess, are you not? I have seen you once or twice in the castle after I was released.”

“Released?” said Merolanna. Utta stared—there was something familiar about him, although by most standards he had one of the least noteworthy faces she had ever seen. “Who are you, sir?”

“I was known for many years by the name of Gil, and had no other. Now I am called Kayyin…again. My story might interest you—in fact, it might interest me, too, if I could remember it all—but for now I am only to be your escort. Please, let me take you to her.”

“To whom?” Merolanna asked. Utta was suddenly too fearful to speak. The sun was sinking behind the great seawall and the city was all shadows. “What are you talking about, man?”

“To the mistress of this city. You are commanded to come to her.”

“Commanded?” Merolanna bristled a little.

“Oh, yes, Your Grace. She can command anyone—she is greater than any mere queen.” He stepped nimbly between them and took each woman by an elbow. “Even the gods must fear her. You see, she is kinswoman to death itself.”

“You certainly are an impertinent man,” Merolanna said. “Why do you speak so strangely? How did you come to be here?”

“I speak strangely because I am no man,” he told her. “Nor am I one of the Qar—not anymore, not after I lived so long as one of your kind, forgetting I was anything else. I am unique, I think—no longer one or the other.”