Still unsettled from the odd singing of the refugees, he only nodded, eyes scrunched against the glare from her armour. She returned the nod, her face a slice of darkness in the halo of the helmet, then gestured to the stairway.

‘Our mounts are being brought around. The gates will be clear enough to leave soon.’ She turned to go, then paused. ‘Have you, by any chance, seen Akoshtiranarayan recently?’

‘She’s taken herself off to the workshops, I think. Seemed, er, full of inspiration.’

Matil nodded again, distracted, her express lack of reaction revealing in its own right. He felt a pang of guilt.

‘We should leave.’

***

Tarfel was waiting with the horses, along with a cluster of house guards, Ghiz among them. Those already horsed turned and stamped, corralling their mounts into formation. Matil’s charger stood to one side, a monstrous glossy black stallion, in the care of what looked like half a dozen grooms. Thick barding glittered from his withers, draped over him like a golden steel curtain.

‘Are you sure this is all right, Vedren? You really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’

‘I’ll be fine, Tarf. I’m lucky, remember?’

‘Right, right you are.’

Ghiz dogged Matil’s footsteps, his jabber impenetrable to Chel but clearly vexing to the new Keeper. She pulled herself up into the saddle with a face like thunder, then turned and called out something to those assembled, over Ghiz’s head, to his consternation. As she finished speaking, all eyes in the courtyard turned on Tarfel.

He kept very still, unflinching but unnerved. ‘What did she just say?’ he said from the corner of his mouth. Chel shook his head, but Mira the seneschal, ever-present in Matil’s attendance, leaned forward.

‘She said that Prince Tarfel commands the city while she is outside. Not Lord Ghiz.’

Tarfel pulled at his collar. ‘Can she do that?’

‘It is unconventional, but legal.’

The commander was staring at the prince with utter contempt. His moustache twitched with a sneer, and then he turned and marched out of the courtyard, a dozen house guards at his heel. The remainder shuffled over to the prince, surrounding him in a manner that was less than comforting.

‘They will protect you,’ said the seneschal with a guileless smile.

‘Right. Right you are.’

Matil spurred her horse over to them. ‘Apologies, highness. I cannot abide that man, and in my absence he may try to depose me. It will be harder for him to try now.’

‘If you say so, Exalted. Anything I should be doing, you know, until you get back?’

‘Command the city. Marshal the defences, keep the lines, prepare for the worst. Keep the refugees moving and out into the plains.’ She flashed a quick, bright smile. ‘Don’t worry, highness, my staff are competent. They will help.’

‘Indeed. Of course.’

‘Come, Chel of the South. We must not be late for the parley.’

***