They were childhood friends,' explained the king. They grew up as neighbours, but one took the gold, the other the scarlet. Now they cannot even shake hands. But we have more important matters to discuss than the sad realities of life. After the final joust, I will announce the duel is to take place. I expect Jex to find some dramatic moment then to signal the attack.

The Kingsguard are spread all around. We have a third of our men in the arena itself, dressed as watchmen, tradesmen and servants. The others are in small groups, running stalls or just milling about. The mercenaries are further away – close, but not sufficiently so that they will attract the attention of any alert watchman.'

'So your men will intercept Jex's mercenaries. Even if there are too many of them it will disrupt the attack and let us fight our way out.'

'Exactly. But remember: our sole aim is to get to the palace and survive the night. They have enough mages that we must take any opportunities that might come up; we must not linger for anyone. I have a man with orders to break the hinges of the gate so that Count Vesna has a chance to fight his way out. As for you, Lord Isak, my mages will protect you as well as they can at the beginning, ready to counteract any magic used against the royal box, but it will not last long because I'm not staying to fight. I suggest you do the same. You are the best fighter on this field, so let Marshal Carelfolden and Mihn bring Lady Tila in your wake. If you reach the city gates and they are half-closed, do not worry. Even if the daemon is released, it will let you pass.'

Even now Isak's curiosity overrode the urgency of the situation. 'Why wouldn't the daemon attack us?' he asked.

The covenant that binds the daemon protects the gatekeepers by causing the daemon to actively fear them,' he said. 'Simply put, the principle of counteraction means the more it fears our people, the stronger it will be against anyone it doesn't fear.'

'But we're not gatekeepers,' Isak objected. The last thing he needed was to have to fight daemons as well as Jex's mercenaries.

'No, but you have been touched by your God, and the daemon can sense this. That's what it fears. As Chosen of Nartis, your contact with the divine has been stronger even than those ordained as priests.'

Isak looked up at Mihn. The small man opened his hands in a half-shrug. He had no objection against the king's logic.

'What about your reinforcements?'

'On their way. I cannot risk their arrival until the White Circle mages are fully committed. Duchess Forell is a rich and powerful woman, but she's not much of an opponent. There must be someone else behind this. The White Circle is a group that rewards success and this is their boldest venture. Their leaders will be here somewhere, to claim the prize when it's won.'

‘That woman, Ostia?' Isak asked.

'Perhaps.' Emin said no more. Instead he busied himself with a loose thread on his coat where one of the red-lacquered buttons on his oversized cuffs had snagged and torn off. As he picked off the broken thread and brushed it to the ground, there was a metallic sound that caught Isak's attention. A lavish exterior, something sharp underneath: King Emin was beginning to be almost predictable.

They talked of inconsequential things as they picked at food, and drank watered wine for the sake of appearances. Isak tapped a finger on Eolis as he wondered how he himself would have organised the coming attack. Beside him, Mihn looked as though he had a slight humpback, where Isak's shield was hidden beneath a long cloak. The king's mages would be little use against a crossbow, and Isak couldn't wear Siulents' larger plates without being obviously ready for battle.

Isak let his eyes drift over the crowd. High in the far stand he saw the Devoted major, sitting alone and scrutinising the royal box. When Isak met his eye, the man nodded slowly and deliberately and though Isak made no gesture back, the major appeared satisfied, for he rose, wrapped his plain brown cloak about his body, and quietly departed.

A cheer broke from the crowd as the king's herald stood. Vesna pushed himself to his feet and strode purposefully towards his horse. He ran a hand over the horse's jousting armour, tugging at straps and the saddle until he was satisfied that all was in order.

Resting his arms on the worn saddle, he looked down the jousting fence to where the Sunbee was being helped to his feet. Once upright, the cocky youth took a turn before the public stand, waving to an adoring public with Tila's scarf fluttering from his arm. Vesna looked down at his own favour, touching the red silk, then looked to the royal box, where he locked eyes with Tila. Her steady gaze told Vesna that she'd been given no choice, and he accepted that – but he still intended to teach the boy a lesson.

Once he was in the saddle, Vesna's eyes didn't leave the golden knight for an instant. The first pass decided nothing. Both lances glanced off their targets without troubling the riders. On the second, the Sunbee came close to unseating his opponent as his lance exploded in a shower of splinters on Vesna's shield. The count was rocked back in his seat, but he had years of experience behind him and managed to keep his seat – although he was pretty sure that if they had not been using tourney lances, Vesna would have found himself lying in the mud with a shattered shoulder.

As the Kingsguard champion waited for a second lance, Vesna studied the ground carefully and carefully guided his horse a little further away from the rough fence separating the clashing riders. The Sunbee took a moment to collect a few last cheers from the gallery behind and then snatched his lance from the air as his page tossed it up.

Vesna smiled. The boy was undeniably good, but he was careless when it came to watching his opponent. In a contest of narrow margins, victory was in the details. His horse responded perfectly to his touch, sprinting forward to close the ground faster than normal, and the younger man wasn't able to react in time. Vesna felt only a glancing impact on his shield as he watched the padded tip of his own lance slam squarely into the Sunbee's midriff.

Screams and cheers erupted all around as the Kingsguard champion was catapulted over his horse's rump. The pandemonium made Isak reach for his sword, even as he rose to cheer the victory. The foreigner might have triumphed, but still the people gave him thunderous applause. Raising his lance high above his head, Vesna turned and

saluted each section of the crowd individually before trotting to the centre of the arena and formally saluting Isak and the king.

That done, Vesna dismounted and hurried over to where his opponent was lying flat on his back. The king's doctor was kneeling at the man's side, but as the count reached them he took the ashen-faced Sunbee by the elbow and gently helped him up. His wrist was broken and his pride bruised quite as much as his stomach, but he had the good grace to shakily offer the white scarf Tila had given him.

Vesna laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder, his black mood dispersed. 'Don't worry, boy, you'll mend soon enough,' he said cheerily. 'It'll remind you to pay more attention to your opponent next time.' He turned his attention back to the adoring crowd, who seemed completely indifferent to the fact that their own champion had been humbled, and by a foreigner at that. Even the noblemen and the well-to-do townsfolk clapped and threw flowers at Vesna's feet.

They only began to quieten when the king's herald rose from his seat. Isak noticed the White Circle looked unmoved by the swell of sentiment. Sitting at their heart, Herolen Jex was eyeing the Parian hero intently.