It was dusk and most of the shopkeepers were boarding up their shop windows for the night. One alone at the end of the row was still open, lanterns burning within and without. Acir was about to pass by when his heart stuttered again.

She was inside.

He swiftly drew back into the doorway of the neighbouring boutique.

This time it was no trick of the imagination. It was Fiammis. But what was she about? The little shop was dark and fusty, not the fashionable kind of boutique she preferred to patronise.

Acir looked up at the sign overhead: a pestle and mortar proclaimed the shop to be an apothecary’s. Was she ill? Maybe she was not deceiving him after all; maybe she had come to Sulien for her health.

He heard voices and shrank back into the doorway as the shop bell tinkled and Fiammis appeared. He saw her glance up and down the street, then push a little package into her reticule. A moment later, she was away, nonchalantly walking alone into the dusk.

Should he pursue her? Should he offer to escort her through the darkening streets?

No, no. Acir stopped himself. Whatever was he thinking of? She could defend herself easily against whatever dangers she might encounter in Sulien at night.

The apothecary came out into the street to close his shop, a stooped little man who seemed hardly strong enough to pull the heavy shutters across.

Acir stepped out of the shadows.

‘Good heavens, sieur, you made me jump!’ The apothecary blinked at him in the lamplight. ‘Can I help you? I was just shutting up for the night –’

‘The customer you served… The one who just left your shop.’

‘The lady?’ The apothecary regarded him with his straggle-bearded head cocked to one side like a wary bird.

‘What did she purchase?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t reveal the details of another customer’s purchases –’

Acir drew two golden courons from his pocket.

‘On the other hand, if you care to come into the shop, I could refer to the receipt book to refresh my memory.’

The shop was dingily lit by a single lamp. The shelves were lined with wooden boxes and ceramic jars, the painted names of the drugs within flaking away: Arnica; Calomel; Nux Vomica; Quassia. Bottles of luridly coloured water glowed in the lamplight. The counter-top was covered in a fine layer of powder… though whether it was from pounded herbs or dust, it was difficult to tell. Certainly the air had the dry taste of dust.

But what drew Acir’s attention was a glass tank, filled with cloudy water, in which he could vaguely discern creatures, snaking through the water with restless, thready movement, to and fro, to and fro. They reminded him of –

But no. Surely that was impossible. Who would want to keep the carnivorous reservoir water-snakes in an aquarium? What possible purpose could they serve?