'Quaestor?'

'Seraph,' answered the yellow man.

Carnelian turned. His father was holding up his hand. A bloody eye wounded his palm: a ruby thrusting down from a ring he wore on his middle finger.

'I who am He-who-goes-before make declaration that this is an epistle that concerns a proceeding of the Clave.'

The quaestor's eyes fixed bird-like on the ruby.

'I invoke the Privilege of the Three Powers.'

The quaestor frowned, but resumed his silver mask and, bowing almost to the floor, turned and disappeared down the stairway.

The Masters began to unmask and Carnelian followed their example. He was surprised that the Legate's face had the same luminous beauty as the other Masters. He could easily have passed for one of the Great.

Suth held up the letter. This contains matter pertinent to our mission, my Lords.' He turned to the Legate. 'Lord Legate, the Great require your assistance. The God Emperor lies dying, and-'

Vennel gaped at Suth. 'Have you taken leave of your senses, my Lord?'

Suth turned towards him and wrinkled his brow.

'Have you forgotten, Lord Suth, that it is utterly forbidden by Law to speak of this to any outside Osrakum?'

Suth looked almost amused for a moment. 'It is you, my Lord, who forget. Am I not become He-who-goes-before? When I speak, the voice may be mine but my words are the Clave's. Hear them now when I say that it would be foolish to underestimate the Legate. Did he not himself witness you coming down to the sea? What I have revealed, the Legate already knew.'

Carnelian watched his father lock eyes with the Legate. His father waited for the startled man to give a slight nod before returning his gaze to Vennel.

'Is it not more prudent, my Lord, that we should take him into our confidence than that we should make vain denial? My presence alone would serve to confirm his conjectures.' Suth looked at the Legate, who now hid behind a hand shaping the sign for grief. 'My Lord, you have the confidence of the Clave, and it shall owe you blood debt for your silence and for any aid that you might be called upon to give us. Rest assured that this in no way compromises your service to the House of the Masks.'

'Even He-who-goes-before must obey the Law,' said Vennel.

Suth did not turn. 'Lord Vennel, the Law's intention was to avoid disturbance in the Commonwealth.'

'And to avoid the Legates being tempted to use their legions against the Three Powers.'

Carnelian, who had always feared the look his father's face now wore, watched it wither Vennel.

'Does my Lord fear that my Lord Legate would sail his barans against Osrakum?'

Vennel's face deadened as he retired somewhere behind its icy surface. Carnelian fought his lips' desire to smile.

His father lifted the letter again. The Wise have made the Clave send this to warn us that a rumour is abroad.'

Aurum stepped forward. 'A rumour?'

'It has been noted that several Lords of the Great have gone down to the sea. It is said that they seek the return of the Ruling Lord of House Suth. Further, it is said that this Lord is being recalled to oversee the sacred election. The Wise command that we do all we can to avoid giving credence to this dangerous rumour.'

Vennel gave a snort to which Carnelian could see only the Legate pay any attention.

'It should come as no surprise,' said Jaspar. 'Even though we came here with no banners the faces of our slaves proclaimed who we were. Even the mind of a barbarian would surmise that three Lords of the Great would not come out of Osrakum and down to the sea on trivial errand. Many of the Lesser Chosen know that the Ruling Lord Suth had gone beyond the sea. Taken together, these would form a singular coincidence.'

Then we cannot return upon the leftway,' said Aurum.

Carnelian watched the Legate's pale eyes linger on Jaspar before passing raven-sharp to his father's face.

Vermel looked incredulous. ‘Surely you do not suggest, my Lord, that we forgo the leftway to travel on the road?'

Jaspar pretended to be intent on adjusting his blood-ring. 'Without banners to open up a way through the road's throng there certainly will be no making haste.'

'Besides, how could we hope to hide ourselves?' said Vermel.

Aurum threw up his hands. 'What else would you have us do, my Lords? Should we instead defy the Wise and imperil the Commonwealth?'

Carnelian watched the Legate turn his ivory head to look out through the window. The ochre sky looked painted. The sun's brass still crowned the towers of the town and ran a burning band round the edge of the further cliff.

The Legate turned back. 'Perhaps the Great Ones might allow me to lend them my banners.'

'You presume too much, Legate,' said Vennel. 'You dare suggest that a Ruling Lord of the Great should so demean his blood as to use the banners of one of the Lesser Chosen?'

Aurum fixed Vennel with a baleful eye. This is no time for blood pride, my Lord. Have I to remind you once more of what is at stake? Pomp will be fatal to our mission: the lack of it, to our speed. If we take the leftway as ourselves all the world will soon know what transpires in Osrakum. Only under the banners of another might we hope to pass unnoticed.'

'If the Great Ones might allow me to interject…?' said the Legate, making vague gestures of apology. Suth asked for his words with his hand.

'I intended to lend the Great Ones the banners of my state.'

'And your cyphers?' asked Suth.

'Indeed, Great Lord, those would be essential. The Great Ones would be concealed if they were carried in palanquins. Then they could use the leftway. My duties oftentimes take me inland into the heart of the Naralan, as far as the city of Maga-Naralante, so such a party would excite little notice or question. Beyond Maga-Naralante' – he lowered his head – 'matters might be more difficult.'

Suth nodded and looked at the other Masters. 'I find this idea to have merit.'

Vermel's face was like freshly fallen snow. 'Will My-Lord-who-goes-before accept the responsibility for such an action before the Wise?'

'He will,' said Suth.

'Very well. I shall bow to your will expressed. Now I shall retire. My Lords.' He gave a curt bow, slipped his mask elegandy over his face, then turned to go down the steps. Carnelian watched him sink into the platform's edge like a ship into the horizon.

The Legate moved quickly to the top of the stairs and called after Vennel, 'Any slave you find beyond the door, Great One, will be able to guide you to your chambers.'

'You should go too, Carnelian,' said Suth, 'to make sure the household is set in order for my coming.'

Carnelian stood looking at him, resenting the dismissal, but he could think of no way to defy it.

'As my Lord commands,' he said and put on his mask.

From the platform's brink the steps looked perilously steep. He gazed out across the cavernous space. The lanterns on the floor were undulating bands of light over the walls. He could see the raised walkways that led to the door, and the audience pits on either side. He began descending.

When he reached the foot of the stairway he looked back up but he could see nothing of the Masters, only the window's glow. The murmur of their talk was like the rumble of a distant storm.

Up ahead, Vennel was passing under one of the tower lanterns. Sections of its shaft moved round, turning its rays like spokes. Carnelian began to follow him along the walkway on the journey to the door.

In token of his deafening, the slave's ears had been shorn off. The Legate's cypher, a sheaf of reeds, had been cut into the man's face and traditional tattoo-blue had been used to fill the scar channels. He had been loitering with others beyond the door. Carnelian had to show him the chameleon glyphs on the lining of his sleeve to indicate where he wanted to go. The slave's eyes flickered in the swathe of blue stain as they followed Carnelian's hand-speech. He must have understood for he lit a lantern and, cringing, beckoned Carnelian to follow him into the darkness.