The madness begins with a state of confusion. The patient claims to hear music emanating from the minds of other individuals. Anyone who has ever been plagued by a melody ‘on the brain’ will understand what a terrible affliction this must be. This stage may last – with remissions – for anything between a few months to several years. The confusion culminates in a sudden devastating deterioration from which there is no recovery.

‘No recovery?’ Orial whispered.

‘When I was called to your mother, she had already tried to drown herself. In the end, of course, she succeeded.’

‘She – drowned’?’ Orial stared at Ophil Tartarus. She had gone rigid with shock.

‘I’m sorry. You didn’t know?’ She numbly shook her head.

‘Here.’ He poured liquid from a flask into a glass and placed it in her shaking hand, guiding it to her lips. ‘Drink this.’

A few drops slid down Orial’s throat; she choked on their bitter fire, waving the glass away as tears clouded her eyes.

‘I assumed your father had told you.’

‘My – father –’ Orial said between coughs, ‘has told me – nothing.’

‘Then maybe –’

‘No. I appreciate your frankness. Where did she drown?’

‘In the River Avenne. It was most unfortunate. After a week or so here, our regime seemed to have calmed her. So when your father came to visit her, we let him take her to walk in the gardens. Suddenly she broke free, ran to the riverbank – and threw herself in. By the time he had pulled her out, she was dead. Drowned.’

‘Dead,’ Orial repeated. ‘You are sure she was dead?’

‘Great heavens, demselle, both your father and I are doctors! What are you implying?’

Orial sat silent a moment. The sour taste of the spirit still stung the inside of her mouth; she centred her mind on that one sensation. After a while she said, more to herself than Tartarus, ‘So that’s why.’

‘Why what, demselle?’

‘Why my father has kept all music out of the house. To protect me.’

‘An intriguing theory. Most intriguing.’ Tartarus began to scribble in a notebook, murmuring to himself, ‘By eliminating the stimulus… maybe hoped to delay or even avert the onset of the symptoms of the degeneration…’

‘But has it worked?’ Orial asked.

‘Demselle?’ Tartarus said, regarding her warily.

‘Please be frank, Doctor. What are my chances?’

‘It’s impossible to make an accurate prediction without examining you properly.’ He leaned closer across the desk, staring into her eyes. Orial, suddenly uneasy, sprang to her feet.

‘Well, thank you, Dr Tartarus. If I need to consult you again…’

He was still staring at her in that disconcerting way.

‘Maybe if I could just visit the gardens and see where my mother…’

‘Please.’ He did not rise from the desk but she felt his piercing stare follow her out of the office.

Outside in the courtyard, she took in several breaths of fresh air. The spirit had made her light-headed and her heart was pounding.