They finally reined in outside a huge house among other huge houses, in a part of the city where the air was cleaner and the sun shone brighter. Rikke had to admit she was a little relieved. Wouldn’t have surprised her if they’d been led in state all the way to the House of Questions and straight into a cell.

“Savine’s house,” she said, looking up at all those windows. “Looks like every leaf in the garden got polished by hand.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Jurand. “She used to live here. Then it was an orphanage for a while, but it became too full, and the children have been moved to new lodgings. Now it’s yours.”

“What?”

“As long as you’re in the city.” He swung down easily from the saddle. “Black Rikke must have rooms fit for her station.”

The hall alone was big as a chieftan’s audience chamber and a lot finer furnished. Two well-turned-out women were waiting there, one older, one younger, with a dark-skinned fellow wide as a door. They looked a bit shocked at Rikke’s face, for which she hardly blamed them; she still jumped herself whenever she passed a mirror. They looked more shocked as Shivers loomed up behind her, then very shocked indeed as the fur- and mail-clad Named Men and the tattooed hillfolk and some great tall woman who ran Yaws these days crowded into the hallway tramping muck across the spotless tiles.

The older woman gave a doubtful curtsy. “Your, er—”

“Just Black Rikke will do,” said Rikke.

“I’m Liddy, this is May and this is Haroon.”

“An honour,” said the dark-skinned man in the deepest voice you ever heard, bowing low.

“Likewise,” said Rikke, bowing back. Since half of her people couldn’t even speak the language, that set everyone off bowing to everyone else. Quite the sea of bobbing heads.

“The Lady Regent sent us in case there was anything you wanted,” said Liddy. “There’s a function planned at the Agriont tomorrow evening—”

“Function?” Isern bit at the unfamiliar word. “Isn’t that, like, having a shit?”

Shivers rolled the eye he still had. “It’s folk drinking and dancing and lying to each other. They pretend it’s for fun but really it’s for whoever’s got the power to show how much power they’ve got.”

Isern slowly narrowed her eyes. “So it is having a shit, just on everyone else.”

“Mostly on me,” said Rikke. “And I’ll be thanking them for the turds, frothing with praise over their fine colour and consistency, and asking if I couldn’t get a couple more.” Rikke raised her brows at Liddy, who was looking more shocked than ever, and switched back to their tongue. “You a seamstress?”

“I’ve… sewn a few seams…”

“You help make Lady Savine look all…” And Rikke waved her hands around, searching for the word. “Savine-y?”

“I help dress her… sometimes.”

“Lovely! Last time I went to the Agriont I looked a fucking dunce.” Rikke shrugged the red cloak from her shoulders and ran that fine cloth hissing through her fingers. “Reckon we’ve got some work ahead of us.”