But this was no time to dawdle, or speculate. He was late, and reeking of alcohol. He sprinted back to Balmacara.

It was the same morning that Commander Brynd Lathraea was bringing the new Empress to Villjamur, and a large contingent of the Fourth and Fifth Dragoons was riding towards the city through the mist. The horses’ hooves thumped on sodden tundra, leaving a muddy trail. It wouldn’t be at all difficult for anyone to follow, but there were so many troops in attendance that you need not fear a surprise attack. Brynd rode directly alongside the carriage in which Rika sat with the windows veiled. Apium was astride his horse, one of those pulling the vehicle, while Nelum and Lupus were riding directly behind. All around them on either side, keeping pace precisely, were columns of Dragoons.

The Lady Rika herself was the centre of all this.

Brynd eyed her frequently, but couldn’t tell much from her expression. He suspected she understood exactly what was required of her in her new role, with its responsibilities. He also knew she had not seen Villjamur for several years. Its daunting walls and the three entrance gates had been there seemingly forever, but there were now differences, inside and out. The ice age was upon them, with thousands of refugees huddled outside. Families were being torn apart, there were suicides and murders daily.

And her father, the Emperor, was dead.

‘Your breath, Randur Estevu, smells as if a horse has just passed wind. I trust you’ve a decent reason for entering my presence in such a state?’ Eir folded her arms as she examined Randur.

‘And what would you know of a horse’s bodily functions, a pretty little rich girl like you?’ Randur slumped into a chair in the minor chamber he had commandeered for dancing lessons. The fire was spitting rather too loudly for his liking, even though tapestries covered the windows in an attempt to exclude draughts. Randur was at least grateful for the dim lighting, since his head pounded even when confronted with a candle. His pupil was today wearing one of her green silk numbers, something he had to admit she looked particularly attractive in.

If only she could shut her mouth for more than a second.

Placing his head in his hands, he began to massage his scalp. ‘Oh, Bohr.’

‘And may I ask how you managed to end up in this state?’ Eir enquired.

‘You may not,’ Randur groaned, glancing up at her. Her face displayed an expression of disgust he wasn’t used to seeing from women. He was a man of style, after all, so maybe things weren’t looking so great.

‘Do you realize who you’re talking to?’ Her tone was indignant.

‘Sure I do,’ Randur replied.

‘Yet you obviously have no respect for me?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Randur stood up, gave her as sarcastic a bow as he could manage, given the pain in his head. He wasn’t in the mood for this formal nonsense.

Her expression suggested that she wasn’t sure whether he was being serious. ‘I thought you requested for a drummer to help us with the timing?’ she persisted. ‘Maybe he has got himself into Astrid-knows-what trouble, like yourself.’

‘I wasn’t in any trouble,’ Randur protested, rubbing his eyes. ‘I can handle myself just fine on these streets.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ Eir said tartly. ‘Now I demand that you tell me where you were and what you were up to.’

‘Caveside, if you must know.’ He began to pace around the room in the hope of walking off his headache, occasionally stepping over to the window. Right now the cool air was the freshest he’d ever breathed.

‘Caveside?’ Eir said, frowning. ‘Whatever were you doing down there? While you’re in residence here, you ought to conduct yourself with more decorum. It’s a bit reckless, don’t you think, fraternizing with all those thugs? I’ve heard stories about serving girls who ventured down the wrong street and-’

‘D’you have any idea what actually goes on down there?’ Randur snapped, glancing despairingly at her. He shook his head. Bohr, how damn spoiled are people around here?

‘Well,’ Eir replied, ‘I have been told of all sorts of thieves and murderers. Soldiers gone bad.’

‘Yeah, well maybe there are some of those,’ Randur admitted. They were so silent for a while he could hear the wind racing through Balmacara. Upon understanding the words she spoke, he said, ‘You’ve lived here all these years and never actually been down there?’

Eir gave an impatient shrug. ‘I don’t really have much time for the business of such people. Why should I risk stepping foot in that darkness?’

Randur grunted to suppress a laugh. How could this girl be even temporarily in charge if she doesn’t have a clue about half the type of people in her own damn city? It makes me glad I never grew up in a place like this.

Randur was feeling tired, knew he was getting grumpy as he always did when he hadn’t had enough sleep. That, combined with his hangover, meant he was pretty pissed off. ‘What is it with this place, this legendary city of sanctuary? The jewel of the Jamur Empire, the largest city in the Archipelago, yet you’ve got thousands of refugees camped right outside the gates, while the city’s rulers turn a blind eye on the millions of ordinary citizens who don’t own huge acreages of land, or who haven’t grown fat off tribal slave labour, or what’s practically wage slavery. They’re just not real to you, are they?’

‘Everyone’s real to me,’ Eir said.

‘Reckon you’re even real yourself?’ Randur sneered. ‘What kind of life have you ever led to make you so real?’

‘A dutiful one, thank you. I’ve had pressures and responsibilities.’

‘Responsibilities. Right. I bet you’ve always had every last thing done for you.’

‘And who exactly are you to tell me this? I should have you strung up from the city walls as an example.’

‘That’s exactly my point, see?’ Randur continued, unabashed. ‘You just deal with life the way a spoilt child would. You want to eliminate someone just because he tells it how it is. What kind of ruler does that make you, if you can’t even deal with ordinary people?’

She walked to the tapestry covering the window, drew it back and gazed over the countless spires of Villjamur. ‘This is the only city I’ve really known. I’ve heard of the other places – Vilhokr, Vilhokteu, Gish. I’ve never visited them, never needed to, was always advised not to. Maybe I’ve been fortunate in my position and upbringing, but…’ Anger now flared in those eyes, and frustration. ‘… Just because I haven’t had to work for my living, doesn’t mean my entire life has been worth less that anyone else’s.’

Randur suspected he’d hurt her, though right now it was difficult to care. He had a throbbing head, a mouth as dry as a desert rock. He was angry at this rich girl. Her superior attitude added a whole new rancour to his thinking.

‘For your information,’ Eir said, ‘there’s perhaps a little more to me than you might think. I’m not a bad person. I’ve not wished ill on anyone. Every time we practise dance or combat you make a reference to my fortunate upbringing as if it was something you missed out on. Well, it isn’t that lucky being imprisoned in a life you don’t necessarily want. So maybe I’m a little short with people at times. To use a phrase of your own, maybe I do get pissed off. Some of us can’t just go on pretending to be someone we’re not.’

If she knew anything of his past, of his own secrets, she didn’t show it. This was all getting a little bit near the knuckle.

She continued, her voice significantly softer, ‘Perhaps you yourself should show me the other side of this city then, if you really think it would do me some good?’

‘Like I’d be able to sneak you out of this place with no one noticing. I’ll probably lose my head for that – but sure, why not? If you’re genuinely up for it, we can find a way. But, look, we should be doing dance practice. Let’s learn a few steps, shall we? I’ll count time for us, in the absence of our drummer.’