'Why do you come to me?' the duchess asked sternly, not at all cowed by the mention of a curse. 'I have no dealings with the priesthood.' She spat the last word out and Luerce cringed. 'I suggest you find a mage to undo the curse, or some witch to fashion a charm for you.'

'I have tried,' howled Luerce as the tears began to come, 'and none have been able to break its spell. First my wife sickened and died, then, as a black dog crossed his path in the street, my brother's heart gave out.' He gave a choking sob. 'Your Grace, most blessed lady of Byora, I beg your intercession, I beg help-'

'Enough,' the duchess snapped, 'I cannot…' Her voice tailed off as Ruhen slipped from beside her on the throne. 'Ruhen dearest, sit back up here,' she began.

The little boy shook his head solemnly. When she opened her mouth to speak again he held up a hand to her and the words died in her throat. With the room transfixed, Ruhen reached out and ran his little fingers through her sandy hair. When the little boy turned around, Luerce saw he had a single hair in his fingers. With an expression of total concentration Ruhen walked towards Luerce, apparently oblivious to the intake of breath from the crowd behind.

Awestruck, Luerce stayed where he was, as if frozen by Ruhen's unblinking eyes. 'Little prince,' Luerce whispered, his voice carrying around the silent room, 'I am a sinner, but I did not deserve this curse. I swear it.'

Behind Ruhen he saw the duchess, sitting bolt upright, unmov-ing, gripping the armrests of her throne, her knuckles white. Beside her, Ilumene's expression reflected her concern.

Ruhen ignored them all and kept his eyes firmly on Luerce. Without even thinking about it Luerce slowly raised his hand and the child stopped before it, studying the dirty fingernails and raw skin. Eventually Ruhen reached out and tied the hair about Luerce's index finger, the movements painstakingly slow.

'Go home,' he piped, his childish voice quite unlike when Azaer had spoken to Luerce, but with the same electric effect.

He kept still until Ruhen broke eye-contact and went toddling back to rejoin the duchess. Luerce pushed himself upright, staggering a moment before turning to look at those behind him. They were standing in stunned silence until he stumbled towards them and they parted to allow him out through the half-open doors and into the grey daylight.

'The touch of the innocent,' the mage said in a hushed voice. 'They say the pure can cast out sin and daemons, so why not curses too?'

'He begged intercession,' breathed someone within the crowd.

'And intercession he received,' the duchess finished, looking down at the child beside her. Ruhen smiled up at her and she felt herself enveloped in warmth.

Venn stirred, drifting slowly towards wakefulness. His head felt heavy, his chest tight. The smell of incense tickled his nostrils and he came awake with a twitch and a cough. He turned his head and felt the greasy, sweat-soaked cushion against his ear.

I cannot continue like this. I am dying here, he realised, reaching out for the cup of water by his bed.

Someone put the cup in his hand and helped him lift it to his lips. He blinked and slowly focused on the face before him – not the priestess, but a young woman, a Harlequin, one soon to walk out into the Land. He recognised her; she had sat at his feet often these past few… weeks? Months? He was no longer sure. Her name eluded him too, but much did, for up to an hour after awakening. He'd once been a great athlete, but he had had to become used to being a broken old man while Jackdaw lived in his shadow.

'We have come to say goodbye,' she said softly as he drank.

'You are blessed now and sent out into the Land?' he croaked, his throat raw.

She shook her head. 'No, Master. We go to seek the child, the innocent, the prince of your tales.'

I have you, Venn realised, only just in time. You choose your king, and when you find him you will cast off your masks and march under his banner.

'You believe the Land is in need of intercession?'

She nodded urgently.

'Then I should come with you,' Venn said, struggling to rise.

She helped him up, her face a picture of concern. 'Master, you are very weak.'

'Have faith, sister. When 1 start on the journey to find our little prince, faith will restore me.' The words were barely out of his mouth before he realised his mistake – it was far too early for him to leave. His desperation to be rid of Jackdaw had made him rash, he had not reached enough Harlequins yet. His impatience could be the undoing of everything.

'We are ready to leave whenever you are, Master,' she said, indicating half a dozen other young Harlequins standing close by.

'Then slip my swords upon my back,' Venn intoned, echoing the words of a heroic tale they would all recognise, 'and let us go wherever our master leads.'

'No,' said a sharp voice behind her: the priestess. She looked weary, but her voice was still full of authority. 'There's still too much snow; a journey will kill him.'

The young Harlequin glared. 'The worst has passed already.'

The priestess walked up to the young woman and looked down at her. 'He is too weak; you must wait for the thaw.'

'We shall carry him. "The strong shall bear the weak on their backs, letting the weak guide them, for it is they who see the safest path",' quoted the Harlequin.

Venn winced at the smugness of her piety, though he was fascinated to see how they interpreted his words to their own ends.

'And his weakness shows you the path, child,' the priestess replied triumphantly. 'His weakness shows you that such a journey should not be undertaken until the spring.'

Spring? Can I last that long with Jackdaw in my shadow? Venn wondered. It could be the equinox before the snow recedes this far north -he stopped dead. The Equinox Festival, when more Harlequins gather then than at any other time.

He gave a weak cough and interrupted, saying, 'Priestess, you are correct. My weakness tells us we should wait, that there is preaching yet to be done. We shall stay until the Equinox Festival, and when we have celebrated with our kin, we shall go.' He paused, breathing heavily.

When he'd caught his breath, he added, 'And you will come with us, Priestess, to minister to those of the clans who join our quest.' And we'll need to bring as much water from the pool as we can -those Harlequins we meet on the journey will challenge my authority unless I can get them to receive her blessing first. The priestess bowed low. 'You do me great honour, Master,' she said, her eyes brightening at the prospect.

I will give you everything you have always wanted, Venn thought as he allowed himself to be helped back to bed. You should read your scriptures a little more carefully, priestess. Such a thing has ever been a curse.