Muttering, again in the tongue he recognized but could not parse. It was so strange to hear it again, to hear tones and syllables that had surrounded him as a child, his attempts to learn and understand stymied by first his parents’ intent to keep their disputes impenetrable, and then by his mother’s refusal to speak the language again. After she had no one to speak it to.

‘That is not a name of our people, boy. What is the name given to your mother, your father?’

One eye narrowed. ‘I couldn’t tell you, that is all the name I have. Now, perhaps you might like to fill me in on a few things in return? I’ve been forthcoming.’

One of the other men said something and the others laughed. Chel guessed it was at his expense, but let their laughter wash over him.

‘One more time, then,’ he said, his irritation damping whatever nostalgic embers still lurked. ‘My name is Vedren Chel, of Barva, first son to Justina and Antonin.’

‘Those are not names of our people.’

He shrugged. ‘Well, there you go, maybe I’m not your people after all. Now who the fuck are you and why have you kidnapped me?’

The woman beckoned back the bull-man, irritation lining her face, and spoke terse, low words to him. He nodded and left the chamber, heading back toward the library.

‘So,’ the woman said as he left, sitting back and steepling her fingers. Jewelled golden bangles clattered at her slender arms. ‘Your parents took local names. We will find them; our archives are most comprehensive.’

‘And then what?’

‘Then we will know where you fit.’

‘Where I fit?’

‘Indeed.’

‘How about you just let me go about my business instead? How about you return my belongings and my … friend.’

The woman pursed her lips, the corners of her mouth rising in curt amusement. ‘I’m afraid we have a duty of care, Vedren Chel of Barva. Deny it all you like, but you are one of us, and your state is … Well. You might be wearing Serican silk, but your company is questionable, and I cannot believe your parents would be delighted to hear of your entanglements.’

Frustration burned within him, white-hot and rising. ‘My father’s dead, and my mother is in the thrall of some fat fucking southerner.’

‘Your language is also improper.’

‘My language is my own fucking concern.’

‘It’s no surprise, I suppose. You’ve grown up beyond our protection, our guidance, who knows what you’ve been exposed to. The good news is that you’re still young, and your wanderings in darkness have ended.’

Chel could no longer control his rage. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’