Carnelian followed the small figure through a bewildering series of chambers whose frescoed walls gleamed faintly in the dark. After much walking they came to a hall into which fell shafts of red light regularly spaced off into the distance. Along the left-hand wall Carnelian could just see the archways staring blindly with their Lordly warding eyes. Within the nearest archway was a stone door, bronze-riveted, with niches empty on either side, presumably for guardsmen.

Accompanied by echoes, they walked past several doors until they came to one where the crescents of Vennel's banners told of his presence somewhere beyond.

Some men came out from the niches with their sickles. The cypher gashed across their faces made them seem in awful mirth but their real mouths gave a different impression. Carnelian rushed by, even as they began prostrations, relieved to see his own House colours further down the hall.

'Master,' came a cry of relief from up ahead. Then figures came rushing at him, dappled red, their faces becoming familiar in the light of the slave's lantern. His men surrounded him, bobbing, touching the hem of his cloak. They spoke all at once and grinned and frowned alternately.

'Be quiet,' said Carnelian. 'Come on, quieten down. Do you want to embarrass me?'

The life went right out of them. They became so still, it alarmed him. The Legate's slave was gaping slack-eyed. He dismissed him before turning to his men. 'Don't worry, I'm not angry.' Their shoulders had a subservient hunching he did not like. 'Let's get indoors.'

They led him off to an arch and wrestled its door open. Some light spilled through, and something of the familiar smell of home. More of his people shuffled out to welcome him. Carnelian spotted Crail there among them, squinting, searching for something. When their eyes met, the old man's face scrunched up into a crooked frown. Carnelian dropped his mask into his hand and glared at him.

'You were told to stay hidden. Out of harm's way.'

The man scowled at him. Carnelian laughed. He took the old man's head between his hands and kissed it. There was a murmur of approval. The old man's smell was so familiar he wanted to hug him. Instead, he pushed him gently away.

He noticed Keal standing there behind the others, trying to hide uncertainty, and gave him a smile. 'Glad to see that you survived.'

Keal rewarded him with a grin. 'Many times I thought we'd sink.'

There were mutters of assent.

'In the future, let's try and avoid the sea,' Carnelian said.

Many of them beamed and nodded. Keal pushed his way through. The Master?' 'He'll be here soon and sent me ahead. Is everything ready?'

Keal grinned again, pointed at the arch's wards. These are proper Masters' rooms.' He reached out to caress his hand up the jamb, and Carnelian saw where the veined marble had been clumsily painted with the chameleon glyph. 'I did it myself.'

'Neatly done,' said Carnelian, wanting to be kind. He warmed when the other flushed.

Keal indicated the banners, somewhat crumpled from the journey, their poles locked into bronze rings near the door. He reached out tentatively, took Carnelian's arm and drew him through the arch.

The faces inside looked at Carnelian as if he were a fire in winter. Braziers had been lit. The balms the Master preferred were spiralling perfumed smoke up into the vault. Chameleoned blue canopies had been hung up to muffle the echoes. Mosaics had been polished. From somewhere they had managed to get bunches of irises and had sunk their purples and blues in vases of gold.

'It feels like home,' said Carnelian loudly, meaning it, enjoying their smiles. He turned to Keal. 'Where's Tain?'

'He's coming up with the rest of the baggage.' Carnelian nodded. 'Have I a room of my own?'

'Certainly you have, Carnie. I'll show you where it is.'

Keal left him. Malachite patterned the walls with the green of ferns in a dark wood. Smooth doors whispered open with a cinnamon waft. There were several chambers. One had a window paned with alabaster that softly lit a sleeping platform draped with feather blankets. In another, water ran waist high in a channel from which various sinks could be filled. In that chamber the floor was incised with runnels.

Back in the sleeping chamber, Carnelian discovered shutters and folded them back. Warm green-scented air seeped in. The purple vein-oranged sky made his eyes water. He fitted his face into his mask and stepped out onto the balcony. The balustrade was still warm but he dropped the mask when he found that the balcony was deep in shadow. It was an eyrie looking south. Half in shadow, the valley he had seen from the sea stepped its green terraces down from blue distance. Nearer, limes faded into dusty brown. Nearer still, a swathe of mudflats ran to a crisp edge of indigo sea. A causeway curving like the wingbone of a bird crossed the lagoon and wound the road it carried up into the terraces. Here it was already spring.

A sound from the chamber made him go back in. Tain stood by the door, panting, leaning back under the weight of a trunk his arms barely managed to embrace. Ointment boxes hung from cords around his neck. Clothes tubes were strapped to his back like quivers. He gave a thin smile, then looked alarmed, bent sharply over as a tube slipped from his shoulder. He managed to catch its strap in the hook of his elbow as Carnelian rushed forward.

'Let me take some of those. Couldn't you have asked for some help?'

'I didn't want any.'

Together they wrestled everything to the floor, then stood not looking at each other.

'Isn't this place enormous?' said Carnelian, trying to make conversation.

Too big,' his brother muttered.

Carnelian nodded. There'd be room enough in just these apartments for much of the household.'

That was a mistake. Thoughts of the Hold soaked them both with misery.

Carnelian punched his brother's arm. 'Come on, I want to wash.' Tain started rummaging amongst the stuff on the floor. 'What're you doing?'

'Finding the pads.'

There's no need for those,' said Carnelian and began throwing off his clothes. Tain came to help. 'I'll undress myself. The way you smell you'd better strip as well.'

Tain looked puzzled but did as he was told.

Carnelian's painted skin was mouldering like old whitewash. He pulled the Little Mother amulet over his head, coiled the strap and put her down carefully. He went off to the chamber he had seen earlier with its channel of water, Tain following with awkward steps.

With some experimenting and many accidents, Carnelian found out how to operate the various little bronze sluices. Soon he had created a number of crisscrossing waterfalls. Tain gaped. Carnelian crept behind him and shoved him in. Soon they were splashing round, screaming with the cold, letting the water spin rivulets through their hair. They gave themselves over to the delight. Both played with the sluices, pushing each other into any new deluge that erupted from above. They marvelled at the way the runnels in the floor kept the surface underfoot free from puddling. Tain rubbed the paint from Carnelian's skin. When they were both shivering clean, he ran out and found towels. While he waited, Carnelian turned all the water flow back into the channel running along the wall. Tain came up to dry him. Carnelian squeezed his hand when it came near and made Tain smile. It was good to see that.

Carnelian asked him to shave his head.

'Like the Master?'

'Like the Master.'

'But what if I cut you?'

'Well then, do it carefully.'

So Carnelian knelt at his feet while Tain first cut his hair almost to the roots with a knife and then scraped his scalp with a copper razor. Carnelian watched his brother working, his tongue held between his teeth. 'How are our people?'

Tain stopped, brushed a lock of black hair onto the floor, then gave him a sidelong glance. They're afraid.'