The rhythmic slap of the bearers' leather-sandalled feet and the swish of their linen skirts on their bare legs marked the procession's steady progress into the heart of the city. The pungent scents of waste, smoke, food and sweat swirled all around. A line of brown-coated watchmen kept the people back as the crowds swelled, all eager to see the foreign princeling. The houses were wooden here, and closer together, though still prosperous-looking. They all had roofs of the distinctive purple-slate tiles.

Up ahead Isak caught sight of what had to be their destination: an imposing stone building that looked down upon the whole district through massive vaulted windows. The two-storey-high apertures lined both of the longer sides, and each contained a bronze statue, taller than Isak, that watched the streets below. He could see three: Ilit carrying the Horn of Seasons, Belarannar, Goddess of the Earth, with ivy curling about her shoulders, and, in the centre, Vasle, God of Rivers, for the baths were dedicated to an Aspect of the river God.

They entered a wide courtyard, in the middle of which stood a statue of a woman clothed only in sheets of rushing water. A brass plaque on the plinth she stood upon gave thanks to Baoliss, daughter of Vasle. A large copper bowl half-filled with water sat at her feet; coins, jewellery and small figurines had been left there as offerings and thanks.

'My Lord,' Mihn's soft voice barely carried above the bustle around them, 'it might be sensible to leave a generous gift with the Goddess. This place is her only domain; she might find your presence threatening.'

Isak thought for a moment, and quickly agreed; his encounter with Morghien had left him wary of divine sensibilities. A handful of gold emins would be a small price to mollify Baoliss; he had enough to worry about already without upsetting a Goddess. He patted his pockets for a suitable offering, but he'd not come prepared. He whispered to Mihn, who nodded and ran over to Vesna's litter. Another short conversation and he was back with a small but heavy leather pouch, which he handed up to Isak.

Isak reached out and tapped a bearer's arm. The man gave a short whistle and the litter-bearers stopped, but before they could lower the litter, the white-eye had slipped his legs over the side and was standing.

Ignoring the staring faces, he approached the stone figure and carefully poured the emins into her bowl, silently thanking Vesna for having the forethought to provide himself with local currency. He smiled to himself: typical of the king to name the coins after himself! As the emins splashed in, Isak felt a presence at his shoulder. A shiver ran down his spine as a whispery breath floated over his ear, then vanished. The echo of a giggle wafted up from the gravel, and then he was alone, with just a vague feeling of a smile touching his skin. That was enough to reassure him.

'My Lord,' called King Emin. The queen and Coran stood behind him, both with an air of anticipation. Count Antern seemed to have disappeared somewhere; Isak couldn't see him in the crowd of faces. The Krann took one last look at the statue and bowed almost imper-

ceptibly, then cast around for his own retinue. They had gathered at an appropriate distance behind him. Isak and his party joined the king at the marble-pillared entrance and followed him in.

Isak stared at a massive, beautifully intricate mosaic that showed the God Vasle leading a torrent of water down a river towards a column of elves. He had no idea if this was some famous battle.

He turned his attention back to the long hallway, trying to ignore the stares from those sitting on the sofas and chairs that lined the room. At least a hundred people sat, or stood facing them. Isak recognised the hostile expressions, even if the faces were unknown.

There was a wide range of dress and colour, but Isak noticed a good many red sashes bearing the crest of the Runesword of the Devoted, and several clusters of white-shawled women. One of the parties of women included a man in their group, though the others appeared to have male escorts at the side.

As King Emin and the Krann began to walk down the hall, talk recommenced, though Isak noticed the women in white watched silently. He began to feel rather like an insect that had crawled on to the best carpet: a particularly large and interesting insect, but still not one they intended to touch.

King Emin, for his part, appeared to notice nothing. Nodding to smiling faces as they presented themselves, he swept down the corridor with all the confidence of a crowned monarch. This, Isak thought in passing, was what Tila had been trying to drum into him.

And here was the first lesson. The king commanded the room immediately, dominating the attention of all, secure enough to merely note those faces that didn't smile at him. The tangible air of confidence Emin brought with him made up for the fourteen inches he conceded in height to Isak. Even the brisk stride he had adopted to keep up with Isak's long legs contained no element of rush or hurry.

The corridor led to a small arched doorway, similar in style to the main entrance, but blocked by a brass-bound door. On either side stood a soldier of the Kingsguard, resplendent in dress uniforms – but however beautifully etched, the spearheads were still sharp, and lethal. Off to the left lounged three more obviously armed men: Doranei, Veil and a particularly tall man with ash-blond hair and a rough scar down his cheek that spoiled his otherwise good looks.

They straightened as their king approached, and the guardsmen pulled the doors open to display a circular pool some eight yards across, steam gently rising from the surface. The walls were tiled in tiny ceramic pieces: this mosaic detailed a scene of feasting and relaxation and stretched all around the chamber, disappearing behind a partition the height of a man that ran along the wall opposite the door.

Marble nymphs sprawled at the edges while another statue of Baoliss sat at the far end, a trickle of steaming water running from her hands into the pool. Busts of the Gods sat in alcoves, the eyes of each picked out in expensive colour: sapphires glinted from the blank face of Nartis, gold shone from Death's cowled head. It was the brilliant emeralds shining from the Lady's perfect features that caught Isak's attention. She was a curious choice, for the Lady was not of the Upper Circle. He didn't doubt that the king had a good reason for her presence.

Doranei and his colleagues marched straight in and headed for the far wall, where there were three high windows, about six feet off the ground. Without breaking his stride, Veil raised one foot and placed it on to a ledge that Isak could now see running the length of the wall, two or three feet high. From there he leapt easily up on to the sill, a dagger drawn but hidden, and peered through the open windows to the outside wall. His search for spies satisfied, he gestured to the others.

Doranei retrieved a pole from one corner and passed it to Veil, who used it to hang heavy pieces of linen attached to rods over the open windows, obscuring the view for any outside observer, but leaving the room still light enough to see each other's faces. Isak thought it rather excessive, but this was Emin's city.

'Lord Isak.' The king stood by the wall that sectioned off part of the room and beckoned him over. 'I'm afraid we don't have time to enjoy the comforts of these restorative waters. Perhaps you would take my word that they are excellent and follow me?'

Isak gave the man a quizzical look as he disappeared behind the partition. Coran stood back impassively, just far enough to permit Isak's passage. He looked around: Doranei and his colleagues – Isak guessed the scarred man was one of the Brotherhood too – waited on the other side of the pool.

With Mihn close behind, Isak followed the king behind the partition to find a polished wooden bench opposite a small stone shrine at the far end. The shrine, the height of a normal man's chest, had empty slots for incense sitting before an icon of each God of the Upper Circle.