His father's eyes narrowed. 'A dream?'

'No, Father, I have come here straight from the East Tower. From its brow I saw the ship.'

Suth noticed the water that beaded the feathers of his son's cloak. 'A ship, you say?' He did not allow himself to smile, not wanting to hurt the boy's feelings.

'It looked black and was in size and shape like my finger and had many sails spread to catch the gale.'

His father frowned. 'A long black ship, with sails set, in this storm?'

'Upon my blood, Lord.'

'A baran,' his father muttered.

The word was unknown to Carnelian and he did not like the pale expression that washed across his father's face as he spoke it.

His father turned away. Opals woven into his robe blinked like the eyes of birds. He turned back looking severe. 'If your eyes have seen true, then we must make preparations to receive our visitors with proper state. Please go you to your chamber and make ready. You will not leave it until I send you summons and then only to come directly here. There shall be no deviation from that path.'

His father's hand clamped his shoulder but it was more the grey eyes that held Carnelian fast. 'You do understand me?'

'I do, my Lord,' said Carnelian and wondered at his father's manner.

Then go, and do as you are bid.'

Carnelian set off back to the sea-ivory doors. He was halfway round the fire when his father spoke again.

'It is Naith who commands without, is it not?'

'It is so, my Lord.'

'Please send him in.'

Carnelian strode down the alleyway with the memory of his father's face nagging him. He dismissed it by turning his thoughts to the visitors. What kind of people would be brave enough or, he corrected himself, foolhardy enough to be upon the sea in winter?

He reached the arcade bordering the Long Court. Through its wooden colonnade he could see the air thickly feathered with snow. It drifted down into the rectangle of the court, dulling all familiar detail. In the wall opposite, orange light chinked out through closed doors and shutters. He squinted up to the eaves. The sky had an angry look. Night was nearing.

He went to the back of the arcade and fumbled for the ring that opened another door into the Great Hall. He slipped into the warmth with its smell of spice and bodies and burning wood. Between the pillars people huddled gossiping.

'Camie,' cried many voices as people rushed up, ‘what news? Can it really be true? A ship?'

'I have seen it with my own eyes.' They clamoured round him. He rifted his hands and they quietened. 'Look, I've no time to talk. The Master'll be sending his commands to you soon enough. We must make ready for the visitors.' He pulled up the edge of his cloak. 'Even I'm to be made ready.'

There was much grinning.

‘I’ll be off then. Someone please find Tain and ask him to come to my room.'

Carnelian went back out into the cold and continued off down the alleyway into a tunnel. At its end an arch gave into the Sword Court Before he reached that he turned left onto a stairway. It took him up into the noisy warren of the barracks. He had slept here since he was five and had long ceased to notice the musky smell of men, though it made him feel safe.

When he reached his room, he lifted the catch on the shutters, yanked them back, opened the parchment pane and craned out. Churning roaring sea and wind. Snow flocking in the air like gulls. His hair whipped his face. He saw the shoreline fading off to the western tip of the island. The road curved down from the Holdgate out onto the quay. Its long rectangle was a stillness amidst the undulating sea. He looked out along the rocky edge of the Hold. The cliff rose up to the bone-smooth masonry of his father's hall on its southern promontory. The blizzard blurred the view. Out there, beyond the shelter of the cliff, the sea lifted in a mountain that avalanched, foaming, into the bay. There was no sign of the ship.

He closed the window and the shutters. It was a relief to shut out the storm. In the sudden quiet he unfastened his cloak and hung it up. He went over to the fireplace, stooped down, raked away the mantle of ash and began to wiggle sticks into the embers.

When his half-brother Tain arrived, flames were shaking shadows up and down the walls.

Carnelian jumped up. 'Gods' blood! I thought you'd never come.'

‘I didn't realize you were in such a hurry, Carnie, it's just-'

'Never mind the justs. Come on, Tain, I need to get dressed.'

Tain peeled the sodden layers off until Carnelian's body was revealed dull white, lean, shivering. Tain touched his skin. 'You should've stripped, Carnie, you're corpse-cold.' He coaxed Carnelian closer to the fire. 'Do you know what's going on?' he asked as he faded off into a comer of the room.

'You mean you don't know about the ship?' said Carnelian after him.

His brother came back with a stone flask, a bowl and a handful of pads. He made a face. 'Of course I do. I meant with the tyadra.'

The tyadra?'

Tain was pouring smoking liquid from the flask into the bowl. He looked up. His face was still too young to have the House tattoo. They're arming themselves and I just saw the Master sweeping past. He not only had Grane with him, but also Keal and several of the other commanders.'

Carnelian felt uneasy. Their father rarely came out of his hall. In the past, he had been known to go to the Sword Court to supervise the training of the tyadra. When the spring came, he took them all hunting outside the Hold. On those occasions the tyadra bore weapons but at other times only those guarding his father were armed and even that was ceremonial. What threat could there be on their remote island?

Carnelian had a hunch. 'Hold on a moment.' He went to the door and opened it. Sure enough, there were guardsmen in the corridor outside. 'What're you doing here?'

The Master sent us to protect you, Carnie,' one of them said.

'From what, Krib?'

The man shrugged. The visitors?'

'What's up with the tyadra?'

'I think we're being readied for a fight, Carnie.' Krib glanced at the other guardsmen for support.

Carnelian saw their long faces. He frowned. 'And you're stuck here having to look after me, is that it?'

They looked down at their feet.

Carnelian went back to his fire. He stopped in front of Tain, and did not see the question on his face. The bowl lay on the floor between them. Carnelian was remembering his father's look. Clearly, the Master thought the ship was bringing danger to the Hold.

Tain stooped to the bowl and dipped a pad in it. Carnelian's head fell automatically. Tain stretched up to swab his forehead. The dullness came away to reveal the white gleam of skin beneath.

Carnelian was only faintly aware of the cold then burn, and of the smell of camphor. He stood stone-still as Tain wiped off his bodypaint. He grunted when the pad stung his grazed elbow.

'It's your own fault, Carnie,' said Tain. 'I don't know why you felt you needed your paint today. There's not enough of the sun to make a shadow, never mind taint your skin.'

When Tain had finished the cleaning, he insisted on combing the tangle of Carnelian's black hair. Carnelian bore each yank in silence. His brother brought his best robes and put them on him one after the other. They were cut so that each layer beneath was partially revealed.

'Do you want to wear jewels, Carnie?'

Carnelian looked down and saw that his brother was offering him an open casket. He stirred the contents with a finger and fished out a brooch of apple-jade and ivory. He gave it to Tain. 'Do I look presentable?'

Tain had heard the guardsmen discuss Carnie's beauty. Towering there he looked as if he might be fashioned from snow. The brooch matches the colour of your eyes and shows off the whiteness of your skin.'