Olga steered her into a wide boulevard without warning. “Look,” she said. Huge stone buildings fronted the road at intervals, all the way up to an imposing hill at the far end, upon which squatted a massive stone carbuncle, turretted and brooding. “You see? There is civilization in Niejwein after all!”

“That’s the palace, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed. And we’ll be much better off once we are inside its walls.” A hundred yards more and Olga waved Miriam into what at first she mistook for an alleyway—before she worked out that it was the drive leading to the Hjorth Palace.

“I didn’t realize this—” Miriam stopped, coming to a halt behind Olga. Two men at arms were walking toward them, hands close to their sword hilts.

“Chein bethen! Gehen’sh veg!”

“Ver she mishtanken shind?” said Olga, drawing herself up and glaring at them icily.

“Ish interesher’ish nish, when sheshint the Herzogin von Praha—” said one, sneering contemptuously.

“Stop right there,” Miriam said evenly, pulling her right hand inside her cloak. “Is Duke Lofstrom in residence?”

The sneering one stopped and gaped at her. “You…say, the duke?” he said slowly in broken English. “I’ll teach you—”

His colleague laid a hand on his arm and muttered something urgent in his ear.

“Fetch the duke, or one of his aides,” Miriam snapped. “I will wait here.”

Olga glanced at her sidelong, then turned her cloak back to reveal her gun and her costume. What she wore would be considered respectable in New London: Over here it was as exotic as the American outfits the Clan members wore in private.

“I take you inside,” said the more prudent guard, trying to look inoffensive. “Gregor, gefen she jemand shnaill’len, als if foor leifensdauer abhngt fon ihm,” he told his companion.

Olga grinned humorlessly. “It does,” she said.

A carriage rattled up the drive behind them; meanwhile, booted feet hurried across the hall. A man, vaguely familiar from Angbard’s retinue, glanced curiously at Miriam. “Oh great Sky Father, it’s her,” he muttered in a despairing tone. “Please, come in, come in! You came to see the duke?”

“Yes, but I think we should freshen up first,” said Miriam. “Please send him my compliments, tell these two idiots to let us in, and we will be with him in half an hour.”

“Certainly, certainly—”

Olga took Miriam’s hand and led her up the steps while the duke’s man was still warming up on the hapless guards. A couple more guards, these ones far more alert-looking, fell in behind them. “Your apartment,” said Olga. “I took the liberty of moving some of my stuff in. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Miriam shrugged, then winced. “I’ll need more than half an hour to freshen up.”