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‘And she will stand amongst your family’s other guests? She will eat and drink and dance with them, will she?’ the Grasshopper demanded. Her harsh tone caught Tynisa by surprise. Despite her mistress’s distant attitude, she had not guessed that this woman had taken such a dislike to her. Nothing of this had been evident at their last meeting.

‘Why not?’ was all Alain had to say, a study in boredom, practically rolling his eyes at this servant who dared to rise above herself.

‘Does she at least have something fitting to wear?’

‘This castle has stood since time began,’ Alain replied. ‘My family has lived here since the earliest days of the Commonweal. I am sure that there will be something hanging in some storeroom that will suit. Since you are the steward I leave that in your capable hands. Now, no doubt you will acquaint my mother with all that has passed between us two, then no doubt I’ll be called to her presence to be railed at about filial duty. Might I kindly remind you of your station sufficiently for you to show my guest to suitable chambers, before you run off tattling to your betters?’

A moment’s frozen silence was the only sign of Lisan Dea taking offence. ‘Of course, my Prince,’ she replied smoothly, and even bowed to Tynisa. ‘If you would follow me, I shall have your room prepared.’

Tynisa glanced back at him once, but he was already giving instructions to another servant and, a moment later, the confines of Castle Leose closed about her.

The first hall they entered was high-ceilinged and airy, the windows on three sides casting a latticework of sunbeams. The next chamber was lower and darker, and so followed the progression, until Tynisa was forced to ask, ‘Where are you leading me?’

Lisan Dea turned to face her and, to Tynisa’s surprise, her expression was not simple disdain, but something closer to pity.

‘What is your estate, child?’ the seneschal asked. ‘Are you a Spiderlands Arista? Are you some great lady of the Lowlands, whatever that might signify?’

‘The Lowlands doesn’t really have “great ladies” like that,’ Tynisa muttered defensively, ‘but I am the ward of an Assembler.’ As she spoke the words, she realized that they meant nothing to the woman.

Lisan Dea shook her head. ‘Yet he has brought you here, and asked me to house you and dress you, as if you were of noble blood. You do not understand, child.’

‘I understand only that Alain has chosen to invite me here. I understand what it means to be treated like a guest.’

The flicker of a frown at this familiar use of the prince’s name was almost lost in the curiously pained expression the Grasshopper woman assumed. ‘You understand nothing,’ she said grimly. ‘You have no means of protecting yourself from them at all.’

Tynisa felt a sudden surge of anger, almost as if it had sprung from elsewhere, and within a moment her sword point was hovering close to Lisan Dea’s breast. ‘I have no difficulty in protecting myself,’ she snapped.

But the seneschal simply looked back at her, without fear or even alarm. ‘Why did you come here at all?’

‘Because of Salma.’ The answer came unwillingly. And then, because that would make no sense to the woman, ‘I mean Salme Dien. I was his . . . his friend.’ Abruptly she felt ridiculous, and slid her sword back in its scabbard, now ashamed at being goaded so effortlessly. I have never been so shorn of grace before. She found her killing instinct could not stand against the utter indifference of the Grasshopper.

‘I remember Dien,’ Lisan remarked, and a fond look transformed her face briefly, before it reverted to her professional blandness. ‘But you should know that he has not dwelt in these halls for many years, not a trace of him.’ And, with that cryptic observation, she walked on hurriedly, forcing Tynisa to follow her or become lost amidst the stones of Leose.

In the end, the room she was shown into was not so very poorly appointed, but was clearly not intended for a guest of honour either. It had