Engor

Julien and the Nine Worlds

Chapters 51-67

They left their kang before dawn – they thought it would be sensible to leave before a patrol of guards turned up at the inn to ask if anyone had seen the dangerous escaped criminal. The two sailors set off to spend Julien's money, while he himself headed off in the opposite direction, up into the hills that lay to the south of the town. Xarax had already left to look for Yol. He had suggested keeping a discreet eye on Tenntchouk and Gradik instead, but Julien had flatly refused to let him. It was the first time he had ever disagreed with the haptir, and Xarax had been quite insistent, too.

Xarax thinks this is unwise. You did not even make them swear allegiance to you!

It doesn't work like that with people like them. And in any case, I'm getting a bit tired of ordering people about. If people choose to help me it should be because they like me, or because they think I'm asking them to do what is right.

That is not the way to govern the R'hinz!

You might be right. I don't know. But it's how I deal with my friends.

What if they betray you? You gave them more gold than they could earn in a lifetime! It will be a huge temptation…

If they betray me it'll be my fault, and mine alone. It would be my fault because it would mean that my judgement is no good, and also because I'd have put them into a situation they couldn't cope with. And it'll also prove that I'm not as good a leader as people keep telling me – if I can't even lead a couple of sailors, how am I supposed to lead a whole empire?

But you must not fail! You are responsible for the R'hinz!

If you want me to do my duty you have to let me do it my own way. I am really grateful for everything you've done for me: I like you very much, and I think of you as my friend. But I can't be a puppet. If you try to force me to do it your way, you'll ruin everything.

Xarax does not seek to force you.

Then there's no problem, and we both know where we stand. When we disagree about things we can discuss them, and I'll always listen carefully to what you have to say, but in the end I'm going to have to be the one who decides what to do. I know you're a lot wiser than me, but even so it'll only work if we do it the way I just said. And I need something else from you, too.

You are the Master. You have only to command me.

Don't be like that!

Sorry.

I want you to promise me that you'll never try to manipulate my mind or my emotions in order to convince me of something, even if you think you're doing it for the good of the empire. I'm starting to realise what you can do if you set your mind to it – I felt you doing it to me when we were trapped in the Outside, and I saw you doing it to my parents. I have to be sure that you'll never mess with my head that way. By all means calm me down, or do whatever it takes to stop me wetting myself in fear, but don't ever mess about with my judgement or my will. Just say that you agree – I don't need pledges or oaths, because I trust your word, just as I trust our two sailor friends. Is that all right?

Yes.

Xarax had then flown away, leaving Julien to his thoughts. His disagreement with the haptir left him feeling uncomfortable: all his life he had tried to avoid conflict. He wanted people to like him and he hated being at odds with anyone. But he had to admit that since this adventure had started things had been slipping away from him faster and faster. This wasn't the first time he'd been forced to confront someone who expected him to obey orders like a good little boy. Until now it had mainly been on minor issues, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't stay that way – after all, he had come barging into their universe and it was no surprise that it had shaken people up. As for Xarax, it wasn't so much the fact that he had disagreed with him over the best way to handle the sailors as the way he'd clearly not expected Julien to challenge him on the issue at all. Julien could only hope that Xarax now realised that he wouldn't meekly go along with doing whatever Xarax told him to simply because 'that's the way we've always done it'. If not he thought that things were going to get really complicated.

***

Following the directions Xarax had given him Julien left the road and followed a path that led through an area of thorny bushes like the ones he had encountered just after he arrived on Dvârinn. He very much hoped that he wouldn't have to leave the path and fight his way through the undergrowth.

He had his rucksack on his back and his nagtri hanging from his belt, and he was wearing his reefer jacket: the weather was still rather chilly, although the sun was warm enough, and the exertion of the climb sufficient, for him to be wearing his jacket undone. The shoes he'd obtained in Tchenn Ril seemed well suited to this sort of cross-country walking: they were soft and comfortable, but still sturdy enough to handle the terrain.

There were no insects, but that didn't really surprise him, given the temperature – he assumed that Dvârinn insects disliked the cold as much as the Earth variety did. The place wasn't devoid of life, however: he could make out some birds – or some sort of flying creature, at least – high up in the sky.

The wind began to get stronger as he climbed higher, and he speculated that this was probably why he hadn't seen any flybubbles here, unlike on Nüngen, where they seemed to be everywhere. This was a good thing, he thought: at least here he wouldn't have to keep hiding from airborne patrols.

He walked on for another half hour or so, into a landscape that was littered with huge boulders, and he was thinking about stopping for a rest when Xarax appeared.

Xarax has found Yol, he reported. He is not too far from here. But he is tired and his feet hurt. Xarax thinks that he should take him some of your combat rations. He needs water too, but he will have to wait for you for that. Xarax could carry a canteen, and even open it for him with his claws, but Yol would lose most of it because he has no bowl to hold the water.

Then I must hurry to where he is. Take him some food and tell him I'm on the way.

Xarax will guide him to the path and then come back to you.

Poor Yol was in a pathetic condition. He was doing his best to look normal, and he even started trotting when he saw Julien, but the boy could see that he was hurting and that every step was an effort. He ran to meet him and dropped to his knees in front of his life-long companion.

"Julien," said Yol, "I didn't realise I was so old."

The voice coming from the collar didn't sound artificial any longer. It was, although Julien couldn't have explained how, now Ugo's – and therefore also Yol's – real voice, a voice that held warmth and both the wisdom of the Guide and the affection of the dog.

"It's over now," Julien told him. "I'm going to take care of you from now on."

He gave him a drink and then set to work cleaning the wounds on his paws. The cuts on them demonstrated what a difficult journey it had been. Julien then rummaged in his bag and sacrificed four pairs of socks to make some double-layer bootees that he hoped would last for the remainder of Yol's journey. Then he spent a further hour picking thorns and burrs out of Yol's matted fur. Fortunately it appeared that the local ticks and other parasites didn't fancy dog, or perhaps there simply weren't any here, or it wasn't the season for them. In any event, at least that was one problem Yol had not had to endure.

It took them more than four hours to walk to a cove where a small boat could get fairly close to the shore – Julien thought that they wouldn't want to have to row very far at night. Julien left Yol there and made his way to the suburb of Ksantir where he had arranged to meet the sailors. He had forbidden Xarax from looking for them or trying to find out if they were really doing their best to fulfil their mission, and so he felt a nasty pang of disappointment when he reached the agreed rendezvous and found nobody there. Xarax tactfully refrained from commenting, instead just curling up on Julien's shoulder, warm and cosy inside the boy's jacket.

This was by no means a posh neighbourhood – the houses were small, and many of them looked run-down. It wasn't far from the part of the docks that dealt with repairs and careening, and most of the dock workers lived in this area. Julien had arranged to meet the sailors near a seedy-looking dive that catered for the poorest of the dock workers, but there was minimal lighting in the area and it was easy to stay hidden in the maze of back alleys and dark corners nearby. It would be another two hours before the moon rose, and the darkness, though helpful in keeping him hidden, felt positively oppressive to Julien – and not only was the area singularly unprepossessing, but to make matters worse there was an unpleasant reek of decaying seaweed, smoky cooking fires and the even more unhealthy stink of bodies that had been left to rot filling his nostrils and making the place seem even more repellent.

Of course it was highly unlikely that Lord Nekal's men would be looking for him in a place like this, especially at night, but even so Julien wondered if he would have been able to force himself to wait where he was if he hadn't had the comforting presence of the haptir with him. Yes, there were times when Xarax's cold-blooded killer mentality worried him, but Julien recognised that he probably wouldn't be able to survive in a hostile world like this without him.

It was cold, too, and although he had a woollen hat pulled down over his ears and his hood up Julien still regretted the loss of his hair. A number of silhouettes had passed by his hiding place, but none of them matched the two he was hoping to see. It was true that they hadn't settled on a particular time, but by now Julien was starting to worry that his partners had run into trouble – although he still didn't think for one moment that they might have decided to take his money and run. Still, making shady deals with unscrupulous people wasn't always very safe.

There's someone coming, Xarax told him. Xarax recognises his walk: it's Tenntchouk. Xarax has to admit that you were right.

Julien said nothing, just stepping out onto the path to meet the sailor, who didn't see him until he was just a few paces away.

"Laddie?" he whispered.

"Yes, Tenntchouk, it's me."

The haptir crawled out from under Julien's jacket and flew silently away into the night.

"Well, we got a boat, me 'n' Gradik, an' we even had toime to get 'er supplies fer about a fartnoight. We're moored at yander pier an' we'm ready to go. We din't 'ave toime to seek out a roight baargain, but she's a noice boat, all t'same. You're naat poor, exactly, but you're less rich as afore. Do we sail tonoight?"

"Yes, we should. We have to pick up a friend on the coast a short distance south of here. You don't mind sailing by night, then?"

"Sailing's naat the praablem, but if'n we have to go ashore… Tonoight it'll naat be easy, loike: moon'll be still be pretty thin… 'twill be blaack as a ghorr's aarsehole."

"Don't worry, Xarax can see easily at night. He'll guide us in."

"Yes, waal… Oi don't want to be impolite, but yon haaptir, he makes us'n a fair bit nervous, loike."

"I understand that, but I promise you've got no reason to be scared of him."

They walked for a while in silence until they reached a nearly deserted wharf some distance outside the main commercial part of the port. The tide was just coming to the full, and Julien could see the silhouettes of a few masts belonging to two or three vessels moored nearby. The smell of the sea was everywhere, but here at least it was a clean, healthy smell.

From what could be seen in the poor light their boat was a kind of sloop of some twelve metres in length, and it was clearly designed for leisure use rather than trade. The well-polished cleanness of the deck and the gleaming of the metallic surfaces bore witness to that. Julien thought that if the rigging was in the same excellent condition as the deck the boat must have cost a small fortune. She was larger than anything he'd had a chance to steer previously, but he was confident that he could manage this one: he knew from his experience of his own world that pleasure boats are designed to make life as easy as possible for those who sail in them, and he was sure that this vessel would be no exception.

As he stepped on board he was greeted by Gradik, who was beaming with pride.

"Whaat d'ye think, laddie?" he asked. "Us'n have found you a good 'un, hey? An' everything's ready for inspection. You jus' 'ave to foind 'er a name."

"Thanks, Gradik, we can deal with that later. Right now…"

"Beggin' yer paardon, laddie, but 'twould be baad luck to tak' 'er to sea afore we name 'un."

Julien knew better than to try to oppose the beliefs of sailor-folk, so he thought for a few seconds.

"Isabelle," he said. "We'll call her Isabelle."

They each drank a shot of some awful rot-gut alcohol to toast the name and then smashed the bottle over the gunwale to make the naming official. And then, once the tide was at the full, they slipped the moorings and let the weak current, together with a slight breeze, take their vessel out of the harbour. Julien took the wheel while the sailors set the canvas, experiencing a surge of exhilaration as he felt the night wind filling the sails. And that was the moment Xarax chose to alight once more on his shoulder.

The cove where Yol was waiting for them was not all that far away as the crow flies, but to get there by sea involved a long haul around a cape that was surrounded by some unpleasant shoals, and so it was nearly three hours before they were able to drop anchor as close to the beach as was safe and then lower the dinghy to take them ashore. The moon had risen, but it was only a thin crescent and had barely cleared the surrounding hills, so the beach was still in near-total darkness. And of course Yol's fur was black, which didn't exactly make him stand out. All the same, Xarax was able to locate him immediately. Gradik's surprise at discovering that Julien's 'friend' had four feet was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he heard the strange creature speak.

"Aren't ye going to introdooce us to your friend?" asked the sailor, recovering a little.

Julien thought that it would be sensible not to mention Yol's name unless it was strictly necessary, so he said, "Gradik, this is Ugo. He's a friend from another world."

Gradik nodded politely.

"Ugo, Your Honour," he said. "Oi'm roight pleased to meet you. If'n you're a friend o' the lad… of Anhel, then ye're very welcome aboard."

He might have been welcome, but it still took them a fair bit of effort actually to get him on board: they had to rig up a block and tackle to hoist him onto the deck, because the hull of the vessel was not designed to be accessible to dogs. Still, Ugo didn't seem to mind this somewhat humiliating means of getting on board the ship: the prospect of having a smooth deck under his feet instead of rough stones which hurt his feet with every step he took was more than enough compensation for any feeling of wounded pride.

Then it was time for them to decide which way they were going to go, and so they gathered around a chart of the archipelago. And now Julien found out about another of Xarax's useful skills: when he had 'tasted' Niil and Ambar with the tip of his blue tongue the haptir hadn't simply been adding them to a database. Something inside him was now 'tuned' to their very existence and, provided that they were in the same world that he was, Xarax was able to feel the direction of their whereabouts – just as he could also do, and had been demonstrating, with Julien and Ugo, of course. He couldn't tell how far away they were because, coming from only one direction, he was unable to triangulate, but he could offer the correct heading to take.

Julien wondered why Xarax hadn't actually told him about this ability before.

Xarax can do many things, came the reply, but you don't need to worry about them. Xarax will explain them to you if and when they are needed.

Julien would have liked to argue that particular point – it wasn't what he would have described as being open with each other. But he kept his thoughts to himself. If the haptir wanted to keep his little secrets there wasn't a lot of point in getting irritated by it.

***

The Isabelle was indeed equipped with a number of helpful devices to make life easier for those on board, and one of those was a sort of autopilot that kept the ship at a constant angle with the wind, allowing the helmsman to doze a little without their being any risk of the ship running into a head wind. Of course this meant that if the wind changed direction, the ship did too, but as they weren't in a race it didn't matter too much and the necessary course correction could usually be made before too long.

The ship was also carrying a comprehensive first aid kit, and with help from Xarax and some of Yol's own memories Julien was able to use it to tend to his friend's bruised and sore feet. He'd chosen to share one of the twin cabins with his friend, obviously ceding the lower bunk to Ugo, and he accepted without comment the rather strong scent of dirty, damp fur that came with him. Yol might well have been a being of refinement and breeding, but Ugo smelled very much like a wet dog. Of course Ugo was very much aware of what he smelled like, and so he'd offered to sleep in the little triangular storeroom in the prow, but now that Julien had found him again he was determined not to risk losing him – even if that meant putting up with not only the wet rug smell, but also the gusts of toxic-smelling flatulence that the poor animal emitted in his sleep. He just hoped that the gas concerned was heavier than air and so would not float up to the level of the top bunk!

Although he'd had a long day he still went up on deck to check that everything was in order, and to offer once again to take a night watch. And once again Tenntchouk turned him down.

"A noight waatch on such a foine vessel be no haardship," he said. "'Tis raather a pleasure. Ye'd naat want to deny saach a pleasure to me an' me mate, Oi'm sure."

Of course he didn't. Instead he went back to his cabin and got into his bunk, with Xarax beside him on the pillow. And the whisper of the water against the hull a few centimetres from his ear was enough to lull him to sleep almost at once.

***

The moment he opened his eyes Julien knew that this was going to be a perfect day. His cabin was on the starboard side of the boat, and the vessel, propelled by a wind from the south-south-west, was heading in a north-westerly direction, sailing fast and easily.

He was alone in the cabin. Ugo had always been able to open doors, provided that the latch was large enough to be gripped in his teeth or moved with his paw, and apparently Xarax had taken the opportunity to leave with him.

Julien dressed quickly and went up on deck. Gradik greeted him with a smile and then continued to scrub away at the already gleamingly clean deck. The boat was currently steering itself, and a quick glance at the compass was enough to show Julien that they were still following the route they had calculated the previous evening. Tenntchouk was nowhere in sight, and Julien assumed that he was asleep below following the end of his watch. Ugo had been sunbathing in a sheltered corner, and when he saw Julien he stood up and made his way unsteadily to Julien's side: he wasn't prone to sea-sickness, but he still hadn't got used to walking on a moving deck.

"Good morning, Anhel," he said. "Xarax has already left. He thought it would be a good idea for him to scout ahead of us, and he's also going to have a try at reaching as the First Trankenn. Did you sleep well?"

Julien still found it amazing to hear his friend talking. It wasn't so much the fact that he had a voice at all as his way of using it. When he thought back to all the times back on Earth when he'd told the supposed dog to 'fetch the ball' or 'shake hands' or 'sit up and beg'… And although Yol was speaking Tünnkeh here, because any other language would sound suspicious, Julien knew that he could speak French equally well, and probably better than he could himself.

"Good morning, Ugo," he replied. "I slept well, thank you. I always sleep well on board ships. Have you had breakfast yet? I'm starving!"

"I haven't, but if you're offering I think I'd like to start with half an elephant," said Ugo. "And then perhaps I could do with a bath. Do you think that will be possible?"

"Well, I could just suggest that you jump overboard, but if you're going to do that we'll have to stop the ship – and that water must be freezing. But I think I noticed a sort of big skin full of seawater warming up on top of the roof, and if we give it another hour or so it should be warm enough for me to be able to give you a good wash – at least, I will if we're carrying any soap that works with seawater. And if you're really good I might be able to talk the bosun into letting me rinse you off with fresh water afterwards."

Gradik had heard this exchange.

"Whoile we'm still in the archipelago thaat'll be foine," he said. "We'll waater again afore we enter th'open sea. And the Honourable Ugo, he looks loike he c'ld do with a bit o' caamfort, roight? And if'n ye give me a moment Oi'll saart you out sompthing to eat. An' Tenntchouk, he'll be up again shaartly."

"Actually, Gradik, I can cook," said Julien. "You don't have to do it."

"Oi don't feel as Oi 'ave to. Me, Oi loike cooking. And, beggin' yer paardon, but Oi thinks as Oi'll maanage it better'n you. So, does Master Ugo haave any special wish for his breakfaast?"

"I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you have," Ugo assured him. "I'll have whatever Anhel has. And… please could you just call me 'Ugo'? And could you ask Tenntchouk to do that as well, please."

"As ye wish, 's laang as it don't show no laack of respect, loike. And Oi'll be sure to tell Tenntchouk."

Julien gave a little smile: the sailor's instinct had been to treat Ugo as a respected adult, and Ugo was now acting like a genuine Guide. He wondered if Ugo would start objecting to being scratched behind the ears or having his belly rubbed.

In fact Ugo was no snob, and once he'd eaten a very satisfying breakfast he allowed himself to be soaped, scrubbed, rinsed – with fresh water – dried, perfumed and scratched all over, even to the point of rolling onto his back to allow Julien easier access to his tummy.

The weather looked set fair, and a few sparkling white crests decorated the ultramarine of the surrounding sea. Now and then they saw a sail, or a set of sails: they were in an archipelago and ships were the main means of transport. Flybubbles, though not completely unknown on Dvârinn, were rare. The sailors had said nothing about pirates and Julien hadn't asked any questions so as not to reveal his ignorance of how things were on this world. Instead he kept himself busy, and at the same time learned a fair bit about sailing, by helping out with the innumerable little jobs that constantly crop up on a sailing-ship, and before too long he felt familiar with the rigging and had picked up a lot of the esoteric jargon which sailing-folk seem to use all the time, mainly to emphasise the ignorance of landlubbers.

***

Xarax reappeared at the end of the afternoon, startling Tenntchouk, who suddenly noticed him clinging to a shroud less than a metre from his head. The haptir then settled on Julien's shoulder and made his report, which was most interesting. He hadn't made it as far as the First Trankenn, but he had managed to eavesdrop on what was happening aboard the trankenn of the Noble Lord Delian of the Gyalmangs. What he had learned cast a new light on Nekal's arrogant and hostile attitude: apparently his father, the Noble Lord Ylavan, was dead, having succumbed to an illness which was both sudden and suspiciously unresponsive to medical aid. His First Son, the Noble Lord Nandak, had been declared First Lord of the Ksantiris after Lady Axelia, Ylavan's second wife (and Niil's mother) had prudently declined the heavy burden of the succession. This had been kept quiet, not least because of the complication caused by Ylavan having been one of the Emperor's Mirrors.

Julien spent most of the evening listening to a detailed analysis of the situation from his two experts, Xarax and Yol. They wanted to make sure that he'd taken all the essentials on board, and that meant giving him a crash-course on the politics of the R'hinz, something which he would have preferred not to have needed. But in the process of this exposition he realised that Niil's position was now at best delicate, and at worst positively dangerous. As the son of a second marriage he had always been subject to, if not the hatred exactly, then at least the dislike of his older brothers. Nekal had of course known about his father's death, and his brutal reaction to Julien's request for him to contact Niil could easily be explained by the fact that his half-brother, whom he had practically called a bastard in front of a total stranger, was no longer under his father's protection. The only thing still keeping Niil from an unpleasant fate was his status as the Emperor's Privy Councillor. But they thought that if the Emperor didn't fairly quickly affirm that he held that status Niil would not live much longer. As for Ambar, the only thing protecting him – his status as Emperor's Pupil being far less significant – was Niil's own position.

But Niil and Ambar were comparatively insignificant when the bigger picture was taken into account. The Emperor would have to select a new Mirror for Dvârinn, and quickly, at that. He was under no obligation to elect Ylavan's successor as Lord of the Ksantiris: he could equally well promote any of the other twenty-eight Major First Lords of Dvârinn, or even – and this had happened before – choose a complete nobody and raise him above everyone else. But whatever he decided to do, tradition said that he would have to seek the approval of the Council of Mirrors.

That in itself might prove awkward: even if all the Mirrors knew about Yulmir's long absence and recent brief return, probably none of them was yet aware that he had returned to the R'hinz a second time. Obviously Nandak and Nekal didn't know what was happening, and Julien thought that it might prove equally embarrassing to Aldegard and his peers.

Julien felt that keeping secrets aboard a boat as small as this would be impossible, and so, despite Xarax's strong reservations, he had decided to call a meeting.

"Well," he began, "This is a small boat, and I don't want to keep you two completely in the dark – it's not fair for you to have to spend half your time trying to work out what I'm hiding from you. That's why I'm going to explain what we're up to here. All right, there are one or two details that I'm going to keep to myself because actually you'd be better off not knowing, but as far as I can I'll answer your questions, if you have any, to the best of my ability. Does that sound all right?"

The sailors both nodded.

"Right," continued Julien. "Well, the first thing you need to know is that all of us are serving the Emperor. You've probably already worked that out for yourselves – after all, not too many people get issued with a haptir as an assistant. Xarax is helping me purely because I'm working for the Emperor. Ugo's story is a bit more complicated, but he's also serving the Emperor. So: the first thing I have to do is to find the Noble Lord Niil of the Ksantiris. He's my friend, and he's also the Emperor's Privy Councillor."

"Huh?" queried Tenntchouk. "How come? Th' laddie's surely naat a day older than you are!"

"That's true, but he's still who I said he is, trust me. Right now he's aboard the First Trankenn, but we now know that First Lord Ylavan is dead."

"Whaat? Are ye certain?"

"Xarax is hard to beat when it comes to intelligence gathering. I think that's probably why the Noble Lord Nekal refused to help me."

"Of caarse! T'other baast… Waal, they do say as he could never staand the Noble Saan Niil. Nekal, he's ever raantin' behind 'is faather's baack, telling anyone that'll listen as how the boy's a baastard – as if Lady Axelia would have daan saach a thing to th'boy's faather! So, as Oi sees it, 'twould be better for Lard Niil to get 'imself aaf af thaat boat as faast as ever 'e caan!"

"That's exactly what we think, too, which is why we have to get him away from there."

"And how d'ye plaan to do thaat?"

"I'm intending to ask him to join us on Isabelle. But if we're going to be able to do that we need Xarax to be able to get to the First Trankenn to make contact with him, and it looks as if we're still a bit too far away for that at the moment."

"And how'll he maanage to get 'ere? Oi'd say it's a bit faar to swim…"

"I don't know yet. For now the most important thing is for Xarax to reach him. Once he knows we're on our way to him I'm sure he'll find a way to get to us. Right now he doesn't even know that I'm on Dvârinn, far less looking for him."

"Waal… Oi daan't loike to mess wi' things too faar above me station, me. Would it naat be better to let th'Emperor deal with 'un? 'Tis his Councillor, ye say."

"The Emperor is responsible for the whole of the R'hinz," said Ugo. "I'm sure he will do whatever he can as soon as he is able to, but for now it's our duty to look out for Lord Niil, and the most important thing of all is to let him know that we're here."

"Exactly," agreed Julien. "And that's going to mean sailing this boat as fast as we can. Xarax knows the direction to take. The First Trankenn is outside the archipelago, but Xarax thinks that he could make the trip in two hops. He can get from here to Djankou Ling," (and he indicated the northernmost island on the chart) "and then he could rest there for a bit before flying on – hopefully the First Trankenn will just about be within his range if he does that. Meanwhile we have to keep moving closer. That means that we won't be able to rely on the autopilot any longer – we'll need to stick to the compass bearing. That means I'll need to take a watch myself."

"I can stand watch too," said Ugo. "Obviously I can't change the sails, but I can watch the wind and the compass and wake one of you if necessary."

"Thank you," said Julien. "That will certainly help us at night. So let's all give it until tomorrow morning to try to think up a better plan. If we can't, Xarax can leave us tomorrow morning. Of course, if he's going to be stopping off on the way we probably won't see him again for three or four days, and that should be long enough to get us to the edge of the archipelago. If he still hasn't managed to reach the First Trankenn by then we'll just have to take on supplies at Djankou Ling and then carry on from there."

***

After they had eaten Ugo took the first watch and everyone else retired for the night. That meant that Julien found himself alone with Xarax, and that gave him a chance to broach a subject that had been worrying him for some time.

Xarax, he said, all that long distance flying is going to take a lot of energy, and I really think I ought to feed you before you go. Obviously I didn't want to do it while the sailors were around, but… I think it would be a good idea if I went and took a shower straight away.

For once Xarax agrees with you: he will need all the energy that is available. Xarax could probably last another twenty days or so, but it would certainly be wise to deal with it right now. And a shower is a good idea: explaining away dried blood on your neck at breakfast would be difficult.

One day I will have to teach you to drink through a straw… I hope it won't take you too long to find them. I'm getting really worried about Niil and Ambar And if by some miracle you run into a Guide, it's also imperative to get a message to Aldegard to tell him I'm back in the R'hinz.

There is not much chance of that. Apart from you and your friends, there aren't many people who would let a haptir get close enough to them to communicate with it!

I wonder why? People have the strangest preconceptions…

***

It had been decided that Julien would take the final watch before dawn, but in fact what woke him up was the smell of breakfast. Tenntchouk hadn't been able to bring himself to wake the sleeping boy up for his watch. Julien realised that there wouldn't be a lot of point in reprimanding him: clearly the sailor had become very fond of his employer and this, for want of a more explicit outlet, was his way of demonstrating it.

"'Tenntchouk, I really ought to be angry about this, but actually I had a great night's sleep, so thank you. But I want you to promise me that you won't do it again. I'm going to need you to be at your best if things get difficult later on and you won't be if you don't get enough sleep yourself."

"Bah, 'tis naathing, laddie. Ye was sleepin' loike a baby, and me, Oi weren't toired. And there's naathin to do aan this vessel most o' the toime, neether. Now, if'n ye're lookin' for Ugo, 'e's up aan deck wi' Graadik. An' Xarax, 'e's already gaan."

Julien went up on deck and, after having shouted a 'Good morning' in the direction of the wheelhouse, made his way forward, climbed up onto the rail while supporting himself with part of the rigging, and had his morning pee over the side. Of course Isabelle was equipped with a head below deck, but Julien, who was in any case used to rather smaller boats, preferred to do it in the open air, surrounded by the immensity of the sea and the sky.

The weather was changing. Of course Julien wasn't well acquainted with local weather patterns, but a depression is a depression everywhere, and the wispy high-level veil that was lightening an otherwise cloudless sky, the two rainbow-coloured arcs on either side of the sun (Jobik, the old sailor from Granville, had told him that these were called parhelia or sundogs) and the deep, slow swell moving uncomfortably against the regular swell caused by the wind, all conspired to tell him that it was time to start taking precautions against heavy weather.

He mentioned this when they sat down to breakfast, and the sailors stared at him.

"Ye noticed thaat, did ye?" asked Gradik. "Aall boi yerself, loike?"

"It's not that hard to see, Gradik. And I can't tell whether it's going to be very bad, or if it's just going to be a brief bit of a gale."

"Oh, it'll naat be a Great Staarm, naat yet. But it will blaaw, roight enough. And Oi'd say that if'n we weren't aall ahaste to caatch th' First Trankenn we ought ter be thinkin' o' a-running under full sail ter Martchoung – thaat's th' nearest haarbour."

"Be still, Graadik," said Tenntchouk. "We knew, us, that this would be naa pleasure-trip when we staarted th' voyage."

"No, Tenntchouk, Gradik's right," said Julien. "Yes, I want to get to Niil as soon as possible, but we'll be no use to him at all if the ship sinks or is too badly damaged to sail. I'll plot us a course to Martchoung."

"Be ye afeard, laddie?" asked Tenntchouk.

"Of course I'm afraid! Any sailor who isn't afraid of the sea is an idiot who is going to die young. And I'm responsible for this vessel – unless you want to take command? I can promise that I won't mind at all if you want to be captain."

"'Old yer 'orses, laddie – that's naat what Oi meant."

"I'm serious, though. You're the professionals, but I'm the one who has to make the decisions. Gradik says that we ought to take shelter, and I think he's probably right. So what do you think, Tenntchouk? And I want your honest opinion here – your sailor's opinion."

"Wall… Oi'd say as Graadik's naat wraang. We're loike to caatch a good'un afore laang. She's a noice ship, but if it were down to me, Oi'd be rannin' fer moi loife."

"What about you, Ugo?" asked Julien.

"I know nothing about navigation, and in any case a boat is not a democracy. But, for what it's worth, I think Jobik would agree with these two."

***

Julien thought he'd seen heavy weather in the past, but the occasional Force Eight or Nine squall that he'd encountered while sailing around the Channel Islands had scarcely prepared him for the howls of a mid-sized storm in the Serlingkas Archipelago. The storm broke violently a little before noon, by which time they could just about make out the summits of the hills of Martchoung in the distance. Shortly before the storm broke the wind had dropped completely and the huge swell rocked the boat violently, giving them a little foretaste of the fun and games that were to follow. Everything that wasn't fixed down had promptly started to roll all over the wardroom floor, and they had to hold on tight to anything in reach if they wanted to stay on their feet. Pretty soon even Gradik and Tenntchouk needed to use their anti-seasickness sweets.

After this harbinger the storm proper announced itself in the form of a huge black wall of cloud sweeping towards them. They'd stripped the sails down to two tiny triangles, but even so the force of the first squall was enough to push the boat over onto her side. Julien, wrapped in an oilskin that was too big for him, had insisted on staying on deck, firmly attached to one of the four lifelines which the sailors had rigged for the occasion, but he realised as his boots filled with water and slipped on a gunwale which, due to the tilt of the ship, was currently serving as a deck, that he might have overestimated his own strength. Then he felt someone pulling at him, and he did his best to help Tenntchouk as the sailor dragged him back into the wheelhouse.

The boat righted herself slowly in what was now a sort of artificial twilight. They could only communicate with each other using sign language, because the howling of the wind was loud enough to have drowned out a jet engine. The water in the atmosphere had nothing in common with good old-fashioned rain: it was more like a sort of horizontal waterfall which they had to turn their backs on if they wanted to breathe. Navigation was impossible: all they could do was to try to keep the vessel's stern to the wind in order to prevent her being rolled sideways on into the foaming mountains of water which lifted and dropped the boat like some monstrous carousel at an insane funfair.

Julien lost all track of time. He only realised, some time later, that the noise had diminished a little and that the boat was no longer fleeing along the line of the storm but was instead cutting diagonally across the swell, propelled by a little more sail. He glanced at the compass and realised that Gradik was trying to take them back towards the shelter which they hadn't quite been able to reach before the storm broke. The rain was easier and sometimes actually stopped briefly, and although they were still beneath lowering clouds the light was a little better than it had been previously. The roar of the wind was a little diminished, and now you could just about make yourself heard if you bellowed your lungs out.

Julien realised what Gradik was trying to do. They'd been driven away from the harbour that had been their initial goal and were now to the south of the island of Martchoung, but there seemed a good chance that their present heading would bring them round to the east side of the island, where they could hope to find some shelter from the storm. But they would have to get there before nightfall, and they would also have to hope that the seamanship and navigation skills of their helmsman were up to scratch, because visibility was currently no more than a few hundred metres.

In the event night fell just as they were rounding the southern tip of the island, a tricky point where a strong tide flowing one way ran into the wind blowing in the other, churning up a tidal race which boiled like a huge witch's cauldron, flinging up gobbets of foam that seemed to glow in the fading light. Fortunately, other than a few nasty shoals at the end of the cape, the coastline was fairly clear, and once they had rounded the point it suddenly felt as if they had entered a different world.

It was certainly not the calm of a lagoon, but the horrendous howl of the wind fell away into what seemed almost like peaceful silence, but which was actually the normal sound of the waves coupled with an occasional squall blowing down the cliffs which were providing them with their long-sought shelter. The rain was falling downwards again, rather than lashing against them horizontally.

It took them a further hour to find a place where they could drop anchor relatively safely, without too much risk of being driven onto a rocky shore whose presence could only be guessed from the pale line of surf that they caught sight of from time to time, but finally they were able to gather around the wardroom table with a cup of hot soup, their eyes red from the salt in the air but happy to have escaped the monster which was still lashing the heights of the island above them. The choppy water was still shaking the vessel, but nobody complained, and a little spilled soup in no way diminished their happiness at being still alive and relatively safe.

Very much aware that he had so far been able to do nothing to help, Ugo demanded and was granted the task of keeping an eye on the mooring and making sure that the ship didn't drag her anchors during the night.

Xarax could fly quite high, but not high enough to be able to fly above a storm. He needed to find some shelter urgently if he wanted to avoid being blown a considerable distance in the wrong direction. He could have gone back to Djangkou Ling, the island he had left a little while back, but he could also fly on until he reached the trankenn of the Gyalmangs again, since they would logically be heading for the First Trankenn of the Ksantiris: the Noble Lord Delian would want to be the first to pledge allegiance to the new head of House Ksantiri, the Noble Lord Nandak, not least because there was a clear possibility that Nandak would also be promoted to Emperor's Mirror for Dvârinn.

Xarax didn't know much about Nandak, but according to the intelligence he had managed to gather Nandak wasn't just a coarse thug like his brother. However, such rumours as Xarax had heard suggested that Nandak's eagerness to exercise power was not unconnected to his father's untimely demise. It wasn't hard to imagine either that Niil's promotion to the role of Emperor's Privy Councillor might have left his half-brother afraid that their father might decide, as he was entirely within his rights to do, to choose Niil as his heir and successor instead of Nandak. After all, hadn't Ylavan been heard to say more than once that Niil, at least, had something more in his head than fresh air and dreams of power?

The way Yulmir chose to deal with the succession issue was obviously going to have a vital impact on Dvârinn. Xarax did his best to stay out of the politics of the Nine Worlds and never offered advice on the subject unless he was asked for it, but that didn't mean that he didn't have an opinion about it. In this case, if it had been up to him all three Ksantiri sons would have met with a series of unfortunate accidents, thus forcing the Emperor to choose his new Mirror from another House. After all, the Emperor could hardly turn a blind eye to parricide, which had never been acceptable as a means of becoming head of a House, and unless the Emperor made it plain that he disapproved strongly it would set a highly dangerous precedent. Furthermore, whether it was actually true that Ylavan had been murdered or not, the mere fact that Nandak was even suspected of such a thing indicated clearly that people were beginning to doubt the Emperor's power. It was high time to demonstrate that the Guardian of the Nine Worlds was still aware of what was going on in the R'hinz.

But Xarax was under no illusion: Yulmir, in his current guise as Julien, was clearly not sufficiently implacable to deal with things in the forceful way that was needed. Of course Aldegard would do his best to explain it to him, but he would never act in direct opposition to the Emperor's will, not even to save the political balance of the R'hinz. Others had tried to do that sort of thing in the past, and history still demonstrated the disastrous consequences of such action. And some of Xarax's predecessors had also tried to meddle in politics, and every time the result had been the same: the Emperor and his haptir had both died, giving rise to a decade or so of political turmoil. Of course, the Emperor never truly died, because he was able to move instantly to a new body, but it always took a few cycles for him to recover the full use of his powers. In the case of the new haptir, it hatched from an egg fertilised and put into stasis long ago, and each new haptir carried in its genes the powers and instinctive memory it would need to carry out its duties.

As soon as Julien had appeared Xarax had considered ridding Yulmir of that wholly inadequate envelope: even the inevitable delay before the Emperor was fully integrated into a new body seemed preferable to leaving him stuck in this feeble incarnation. The only reason for not killing him immediately was because the circumstances of his disappearance and return called for a proper investigation – and furthermore, Xarax couldn't be sure that this time around the Emperor would be able to move into a waiting clone in the normal way. It seemed to him to be an unacceptable risk which might even have the effect of completing the work of whoever it was that had arranged for the Emperor to disappear in the first place.

Xarax was unshakably loyal to Yulmir: it was actually part of his genetic make-up. Furthermore, he had truly loved him throughout the numerous cycles of their symbiotic relationship, and he was even becoming fond of the diminished version of his friend that was Julien, and he would continue to serve him and protect him with his life. But that in no way detracted from the cold clear-mindedness of his species to fulfil his goals as Emperor's Haptir, and one of his functions was to prevent the Emperor from failing in his duty to preserve the R'hinz.

He changed his heading by a few degrees and flew off in pursuit of the Gyalmang trankenn.

***

He nearly didn't make it. The storm was moving faster than he had anticipated, and the large four-masted vessel had already been fighting the wind and waves for two hours when Xarax finally collapsed into her rigging. Despite his great stamina, his body wasn't really adapted for dealing with such high winds, and he'd found it immensely difficult to adapt his flying to the appalling conditions. In the end he'd decided to try barely skimming the surface of the water, using the troughs between the massive waves to offer him as much shelter as possible between short hops over the crests, during which he was exposed to the full fury of the storm. Several times he had almost had waves break over him, escaping at the last moment by resorting to the quick bursts of extra speed that his short wings could offer him. But by the time he reached the ship he had used up most of his reserves, and he no longer had the energy to attempt a return journey to the Isabelle. But at least he had made some good progress with his main mission, which was to inform Niil and Aldegard of Julien's return. Sheltered by the darkness of the storm he slipped down into the ship's hold where, hidden amongst the cargo, he allowed himself to fall into a well-deserved sleep while the ship did the work of carrying him closer to his eventual goal.

Niil was seriously worried. He was ready to leave Nüngen as soon as word of his father's death reached Bakhtar Tower. First Lord Aldegard had offered him his sincerest condolences but had then added that, although obviously Niil had to go back to Dvârinn himself to witness his brother's installation as First Lord of the Ksantiris, he was under no obligation to take Ambar with him – indeed, Ambar's presence might just make things even more complicated than they already were. Aldegard said nothing about the actual circumstances of Ylavan's death, but the very fact that he didn't comment on it indicated clearly enough that he was suspicious.

Niil had loved his father and his death affected him deeply, albeit in a rather strange way: he didn't feel any need to shed tears, but he felt very strongly that a universe without his father's comforting presence in it was somehow wrong. He'd never shared his secrets with his father – indeed, it was difficult to share anything with a First Lord – but it was only now that he realised just how large a part the man had played in his life. He was coming to see that he had been, even though he hadn't been aware of it at the time, surrounded and protected by a love that had kept him safe from the machinations of his brothers.

Of course he knew that they were power-hungry and desperate to take over the running of the family, but he would never have believed that they would go so far as to bring about their father's death. He also knew that they disliked him intensely, and his elevation to the post of Julien's Privy Councillor had been especially welcome because it finally allowed him to stop worrying about what might happen to him once Nandak became First Lord of the Ksantiris. Still, he hadn't expected his promotion to bear fruit quite this rapidly. As it was, thanks to Julien he was almost untouchable, because any move against him would be tantamount to a declaration of open rebellion against the Emperor himself. Obviously he wasn't immune to 'accidents', but he didn't think he was significant enough for Nandak to risk staging one for him while his father's death was already under the microscope. Nekal might have been a moron, but Nandak was cunning enough to remain cautious.

The main problem was Julien's absence. Aïn had started to look for him as soon as he was strong enough, but he'd refused to take Niil or anyone else with him, and he'd also refused to discuss his progress with anyone except Tannder, on the grounds that a secret shared isn't a secret any longer. But so far his efforts had achieved nothing, and Niil was afraid that Aïn might be desperate enough to over-exert himself.

When at last the time came to return to Dvârinn he found that he couldn't leave Ambar behind. Common sense said that Ambar would be safest as far away from the older Ksantiris as possible, but Niil was afraid that if he didn't keep Ambar with him he might lose him for ever. And Ambar, who was trying to be brave, clearly felt the same thing. Strangely, perhaps, Tannder didn't try to change their minds, merely observing that he would make sure they were kept informed of how the search for Julien was going.

***

A moment later they appeared on the First Trankenn's master klirk. Lady Axelia was waiting to greet them, and despite her grief she went out of her way to talk to Ambar, doing her best to show him that she was ready to love him as she loved Niil, and that the First Lord Ylavan would indeed have been proud to accept him as a son.

Nandak's reception of them, while not overtly hostile, was cold, and it made it clear to anyone who witnessed it that it would be pointless to try to seek the favour of Lord Niil or his protégé, and that in fact it would be most unwise to even think about it. And from that point on every meeting between them was conducted in an air of distant neutrality.

One person who didn't feel constrained by Nandak's coldness towards his half-brother was the Honourable Kanekto, who had been Niil's tutor. Now that Niil was officially an adult his services were no longer required, and although Ylavan had asked him to remain in his service, Kanekto had decided instead to retire to the small training facility of the Silent Warriors, to which order he belonged. Only the death of the First Lord had delayed his departure, and now he came to offer Niil his condolences. However, once he had offered the usual expressions of sympathy he glanced at Ambar and then said, "Noble Lord, could we speak in private, please?"

"I don't have any secrets from him," replied Niil, "but I'll ask him to leave if you want."

Ambar had already stood up and was heading for the door, but Kanekto stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"Noble Son, you don't have to leave," he said. "If your brother trusts you, that's good enough for me."

Ambar returned to his seat.

"My Lord," said Kanekto, "there are rumours flying all over the place. Some people claim that the Emperor has gone away, and some are even whispering that he's left the R'hinz altogether – and that's why some people think they are now free to act in any way they want, as if they didn't fear the Emperor's wrath any longer. But we understand that he has recently granted you favours, and your brother here, too…"

"And you want to know if I've met him personally?"

"Well…"

"Yes, I can assure you that I've seen him as clearly as I'm seeing you now. He personally gave me the position of his Privy Councillor, and the Honourable Tannder, who is a member of your own Order, was there to see it. So if 'some people' now think that they can break the laws of the R'hinz with impunity they're going to be bitterly disappointed."

"I'm glad to hear that. But the rumours also say that His Imperial Highness is… different."

"There seem to be a lot of rumours flying about, Honourable Master. I'd suggest that the members of your Order should make up their own minds about the person to whom they owe their sole allegiance. Or perhaps your brethren don't trust the honourable Tannder any longer? Could it be that they've asked you to pump me for information to see if what I say tallies with what Tannder has no doubt already told them?"

"My Lord, it looks as if you were listening when I taught you. May I have your leave to retire?"

"You don't need my leave, Honourable Master. And I can remember another of your lessons, too: you taught me 'Any assistance which is not spontaneously offered is not worth asking for'. Clearly, then, I'll have to manage without your help, and that's a pity. Still… may the Powers of the R'hinz grant you everything you wish for."

The silence which followed the departure of Kanekto was followed by the howl of the wind which accompanied the first squall as the storm reached the First Trankenn. Of course this was a large vessel and so the wind didn't cause it to heel over very far, but the swell gradually got bigger and bigger, causing sickening slow rolls which didn't bother Niil at all, but which caused Ambar to be sick even before he could head for the bathroom. This came as a shock to Niil, who realised that he was neglecting his brother's most basic needs, and it stirred him into action. Soon Ambar, with the help of one of the fast-acting seasickness sweets, was washed, dried, comforted and falling into a pleasant drowsiness on his older brother's lap. He was also in a state of mild euphoria, having kept the sweet in his mouth a little longer than was necessary.

"So what did Kanekto really want?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'm a bit disappointed. I was hoping he'd offer to help us."

"Why didn't he?"

"Perhaps he just wants to be left alone."

"What, and all them questions about the Emperor was just small talk?"

"No, you're right. People are getting worried, and they're starting to have serious doubts, too. If Julien doesn't come back soon there are going to be big problems."

"You don't think… well… you don't reckon anything bad has happened to him, do you?"

"Aïn is sure he's still alive. I'm sure he'll find him eventually."

"So what's going to happen now?"

"My father's funeral takes place in five days, and by then the storm will be over. And after that… well, what normally happens is that the Emperor chooses a new Mirror for Dvârinn."

"Will it be your brother?"

"I don't know, but I hope not."

"He'll be angry if someone else gets chosen."

"Yes, he will, but if he's got any sense he won't make a fuss about it."

"Why not?"

"Because if the Emperor starts looking too closely into Nandak's affairs he might well find some pretty nasty stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like how my father died, for a start. I don't think it was natural."

"You mean, someone done him in?!"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm getting suspicious."

"What, about your brother?"

"I'd sooner we didn't talk about it. With this sort of stuff, the less you know, the better."

"But… Bloody hell, he was his father!"

"I'm not saying it was definitely him. But you need to realise that the world of the Noble Families can be dangerous sometimes. People want power, and sometimes they'll do some pretty awful things to get it. And now I'd like to talk about something else."

"All right. So, Lady Axelia – do you think I'll be able to see her again?"

"Well, she's your mother now, more or less. I think she likes you and I won't mind sharing her with you at all. Of course at the moment she's in mourning, and she has some other stuff to worry about too, but I'm sure she'll make time for you."

"And if she asks me questions about the Emperor, what should I say?"

"She won't. She'd never ask that sort of question. And if someone else starts interrogating you, just tell them that I've forbidden you to talk about it, and that if they have any questions about it they should come and see me."

Oceano nox (Victor Hugo)

Julien was dragged from a deep sleep by activity on deck. His companions would have preferred to let him sleep, but it's hard to weigh two anchors without making a hell of a racket. As they might have expected the wind had veered round to the north and threatened to move to the north-east. What had been, despite a fairly choppy sea, a relatively well-sheltered anchorage might quickly become a death-trap if the wind started to come from that quarter, and the sailors felt it was best to leave while they still could, to risk the rough seas around the south of the island once more and so to seek shelter on the western side.

The sun had not yet risen, and going up on deck into a cold wind and icy spray called for something approaching heroism. Ugo, worn out from his night on watch, was asleep in the wardroom – someone had obviously taken the time to dry him and find him a blanket to lie on before leaving him to sleep.

They really needed to go, but the two sailors were having trouble turning the windlass because the strength of the wind and the jolting of the swell were pulling against them on the anchor chain. Julien shouted to them that he was at the helm ready to steer the boat as soon as the last anchor came off the sea bed. The violence of the elements seemed to have subsided a little, but they wouldn't be able to tell for sure until they were clear of the meagre shelter provided by the coast.

As soon as they reached the open sea it became apparent that sailing close to this wind would be extremely difficult, but of course for the first part of their journey they wouldn't need to do that: on the contrary, they were heading south, and that was no problem. They reached the southern cape just as dawn was starting to lighten the eastern sky. The tide had turned and the boiling tidal race of the previous evening had fortunately disappeared, but the reefs around the cape were still there, and some of them barely touched the surface of the water, making them almost impossible to see amid the chaos of the waves. For safety's sake they needed to give them a wide berth, but on the other hand, running too far south would be a serious mistake, as it might then be impossible to tack back north into the lee of the island.

As they were fighting to tack close to the wind while allowing plenty of room between the boat and the shoals Julien's heart leaped briefly as a winged form came crashing down onto the deck, but his hope died again when he saw that it wasn't a haptir but some type of flying mammal with membranous wings. It was too exhausted to react when he went close enough to examine it properly. He thought it was some sort of large flying fox, but he didn't dare to pick it up to move it to somewhere dry in case it bit him. Instead he left it to crawl unaided into the shelter of the gunwale.

He'd always enjoyed sailing with his father or his friends, and even when the waters around Normandy and Brittany had been rough it hadn't spoiled his fun. But this was quite different, and now he was beginning to understand what some sailors meant when they said 'Anyone who goes to sea for fun must enjoy holidays in hell'. Until now they had been more or less running before the wind, whereas now that they were trying to fight it the vessel was crashing brutally against the waves, shipping large quantities of water. They'd battened down all the hatches, but they still needed to pump the bilges if they wanted to avoid getting wet feet in their cabins. Julien took his turn with his companions, also sharing the steering with them equally. They'd had no hot food since the previous evening's soup, which now seemed like a gourmet supper.

But the most miserable of them was Ugo, who could do nothing to help and had to remain uselessly in the wardroom while everyone else was struggling to keep the ship afloat. Julien thought Ugo's situation must be the hardest of all.

Xarax was not happy. He knew that every minute's delay was making an already tricky situation worse. Aldegard had to be told of Julien's return as quickly as possible so that he could deal with the rumours which were sure to run unchecked through the R'hinz if the Emperor failed to create a new Mirror for Dvârinn. But it was impossible to fly in this sort of weather. Eventually he might be able to find a Guide to take him to Nüngen, but he was reluctant to make use of the Guides at the moment: there were too many unanswered questions about their part in the Emperor's disappearance, and he couldn't be sure that some of them at least were not working with Yulmir's enemies.

So since he was stuck on the Gyalmangs' trankenn he decided to use the time to gather information by using his ability to blend into the background to listen in on private conversations. This was fairly easy, not least because nobody would think to protect themselves from concealed haptirs – after all, apart from the Emperor's Haptir, whom nobody ever saw, haptirs never left Kretzlal. For most inhabitants of the other eight worlds haptirs were no more than creatures who only existed in fairy stories.

The first thing his eavesdropping uncovered was that Lord Margoth of the Vedaris was having a torrid affair with one of the newly-married daughters of his liege lord, and that the lady's husband, the Noble Lord Aughtem, even though he had not yet visited his wife's bed (he preferred to receive the attentions of a muscular lieutenant of the guard) was intending to have his revenge in a way which his wife's lover would not enjoy at all. Aughtem had declared his intention of giving his wife an exquisite pie whose contents would include, among other delicacies, her lover's family jewels. Convention, he asserted, permitted him to do this with impunity, because although unmarried ladies were free to entertain themselves in any way they wished, such amusements were considered most unbecoming once a lady had taken her wedding vows. The fact that he did not consider his private life to be in any way restricted by his own vows didn't seem to bother anyone who was aware of his intentions.

As far as Xarax was concerned this was of no real interest, but the second thing he found out about was potentially far more important. It seemed that the Noble Lord Nandak, soon to be First Lord of the Ksantiris, was gathering his most ambitious vassals around him in preparation for a campaign to extend the dominion of his House into new areas, ones which his Noble Father had inexplicably ignored. He also felt that some minor archipelagos, which were displaying unwholesome aspirations towards independence, needed to be reminded of their allegiance as soon as possible, even if that should mean entrusting their government to more reliable hands – the hands, for example, of the new First Lord's most faithful vassals. Naturally Lord Delian of the Gyalmangs was determined to demonstrate that he was the most faithful of Lord Nandak's vassals, which is why his trankenn was sailing, despite the appalling weather, to rendezvous with the First Trankenn, where he would be able to reiterate his allegiance to his Lord in the clearest possible way, with his ship sailing behind the First Trankenn, while the other nobility would have to rely instead on being transported to their master's presence by Guides.

But what really piqued Xarax's interest was an exchange between Delian and his Master-at-arms. The Master-at-arms of a Noble Family was responsible for the training and upkeep of the Family's army, but also for everything that directly or indirectly concerned the Family's weapons, and in the discussion overheard by Xarax, Lord Delian informed his Master-at-arms in carefully indirect language that Lord Nandak had promised to supply him with some 'decisive arguments' recently discovered in a secret cache that dated from before the fall of Tchenn Ril. In other words, the Lord of the Gyalmangs had been offered, in exchange for his support, the use of forbidden weapons which would give him a position of unchallengeable supremacy over his enemies.

Of course, this was nothing new: Nandak was far from the first young wolf to dream of building himself an Empire and using unorthodox methods to achieve it. But in this case the timing was clearly bad, and if it wasn't nipped in the bud it would set a dreadful precedent. And of course the real problem was that nobody could deal with this properly except the Emperor.

The Emperor… right at that moment he was soaking wet, cold, hungry and asking himself for the umpteenth time why he had chosen to leave a wonderful rotten summer in beautiful rain-drenched Normandy to come instead to a horrible archipelago that was being scoured by a storm brewed in the depths of hell. They had finally managed to travel far enough in a north-westerly direction to be once again in the lee of Martchoung Island, and they were currently heading for what the chart described as a good anchorage, well-protected from every direction except the south-west.

The chart was not lying, and once they reached the promised anchorage they were able, for the first time in ages, to enjoy the stability of a deck that wasn't pitching and rolling all over the place. They were inside a sort of circle of reddish rocks, probably the remains of an ancient volcano crater that was now open to the sea. The light was poor because there was still a covering of thick, dark clouds, and they could hear the wind howling on the higher ground above them, but here in this haven there was a wonderful calm, and neither the bitter cold nor the few snowflakes that were beginning to swirl around could detract from it.

"Waal, laddie," said Tenntchouk, "Naaw we can get warm."

He had tried several times to send Julien below to the stateroom, but Julien had refused to leave his companions: he was fully aware that by taking the wheel himself it freed them up to deal with the sails, a duty that was exhausting in conditions such as they had just been through. He had also insisted on taking his turn at the pumps, even though his hands were soft for that sort of work, even protected by gloves. He hadn't done it deliberately, but his attitude had completely won the respect of the sailors and had transformed him from a luxury passenger to the true master of the ship. He was half dead from exhaustion, but the soup was delicious, the stove radiated a heavenly warmth and the sailors' obvious respect made him feel stronger. It also gave him the energy to try to comfort Ugo.

"Don't feel bad," he told him. "If it hadn't been for you I'd never have got back here at all. If everyone sticks to what he's best at things always work out in the end. And I still need you at your best, because we're not out of trouble yet, and we'll need you to stand a watch on the moorings now while we sleep. And it's starting to snow out there, so good luck!"

They slept until the evening, when they had a bit of a feast to celebrate their survival. The tide was rising again, although there was no danger of it making them drag their moorings, and the deck was now covered in ten centimetres of powdery snow. The wind seemed to have dropped a little, but they still decided to wait until morning before setting sail once more.

***

For once the dawn brought good news with it: the temperature had risen considerably and the sky was at last free from its veil of heavy storm clouds – all that was left were a few scraps of ragged cloud such as are often seen after a storm. The wind had subsided to a far more reasonable level and what they could see of the ocean was pleasantly flat. The snow that had been on the deck the previous evening had had the decency to melt, and Gradik was getting the rigging shipshape again while Tenntchouk was filling the stateroom with the scent of the breakfast he was cooking. Julien had decided against washing in freezing cold water and had instead treated himself to the luxury of a complete set of dry clothing.

"I think we can probably make a move," he said, while they were demolishing a large stack of pancakes. "Of course we can't be sure exactly where the First Trankenn is, but if we head north we'll probably be going in roughly the correct direction. Just as long as we don't run into another storm…"

"'Tis naat the season yet," said Gradik. "Thaat were just a good gale."

"I'm sure you're right, but I'd prefer to avoid any more like it. I've had about enough of that sort of weather for the time being. Haven't you?"

"Oi haave. But 'tis naat the same on a big trankenn as in a little boat loike our Isabelle – although she's brave, roight enough. She holds 'er course loike a maach bigger ship."

***

So they sailed northwards, propelled by a good south-westerly breeze and a gentle sea. The weather was cold, but at least the sun was shining and the clouds were progressively vanishing. They were able to use the autopilot again, and after what they'd been through this part of the trip felt like a nice holiday. Tenntchouk even put out a fishing line baited with little pieces of cloth and caught a dozen or so phenomenally ugly creatures that looked like some sort of a cross between eels and fish, without scales but basically fish-shaped. Julien would have thrown them back without hesitation, but once they'd been through Gradik's expert hands in the galley they tasted exquisite.

"Gradik," commented Julien, "you're a master cook. You ought to be working in a nice warm kitchen of some upper class inn, not breaking your back hauling sails out here."

"Oi love the sea too maach for thaat. Me an' Tenntchouk, we couldn't live aall the toime ashore. 'Tis baad enough as we 'ave to stay ashore in the staarmy season. But mebbe 'tis haard to understaand for one as isn't fraam these paarts."

"You're right, Gradik: I'm not from round here. But I can understand; all the same. Where I come from there are plenty of people who don't want to settle in one place and see nothing of the rest of the world."

"An where do ye caame fraam?"

"Do you really need to know?"

"Waal, no. Oi suppose ye'll tell us when ye're ready."

"I'll tell you as soon as I can – but first I have to deliver my message"

Once the storm cleared Xarax had been able to resume his flight. He'd been lucky enough to find, high up, an air-stream that carried him in more or less the direction he wanted to go. He'd gambled on Lord Delian's pilot knowing his business and he had won, which was just as well, because he was sure he wouldn't have been able to make the return journey flying against the wind. But now he knew that he wasn't going to have to swim, because the First Trankenn was almost exactly where he had expected it to be. He dived towards the ocean, losing thousands of metres of altitude in just a few dozen seconds, and as he approached the surface of the sea he skimmed along just above it straight towards the huge ship. He'd adjusted his colour to exactly that of the water, and it would have been appallingly bad luck if even the most attentive of look-outs had noticed him.

It only took him a few minutes to locate and find his way into the comfortable suite that had been allocated to Niil and Ambar. They might not have been the Lord of the Ksantiris' favourite people, and Ambar in particular was considered a complete intruder, but they were family, all the same, and so had to be given the consideration due to their position. That said, the crew of the ship weren't exactly fighting for the privilege of serving them, so they were mostly left to their own devices, and nobody bothered to keep them up to date with what was going on. They wouldn't have minded that at all, but they didn't like the way that it had also been made clear that their presence outside their quarters was not called for. They were playing cards when the haptir made his presence known by a discreet flap of his wings. Ambar saw him first and his face lit up.

"Xarax!" he exclaimed.

"Welcome to the First Trankenn," added Niil. "But I suspect that my Noble Brother would be a lot less happy to see you than we are."

Xarax hopped up onto his shoulder.

Xarax is happy to see you and your young brother again, Ksantiri. Xarax has news, some good and some less so, and it needs to be relayed to the Noble Lord Aldegard.

Is Julien all right? And is he back?

Julien is well. He's here, on Dvârinn.

Where? In Ksantir?

No, he is somewhere to the south-west of here aboard his own boat. But if you will allow Xarax to explain it to you instead of asking so many questions, it would be simpler.

In fact he put the boys in contact with each other and then told his story to them both at the same time, doing it in his own way and actually sharing the events with them. It only lasted a few minutes, but the incredibly detailed memory they had of it afterwards seemed to cover several hours. Niil was horrified.

Do you really think my brother has found some illegal weapons? he asked.

Xarax believes that it is entirely possible.

But surely he's not insane enough to actually use them?

Considering the way Nekal treated Julien and the suspicions that surround the death of your Noble Father, Xarax is ready to believe that your family is capable of almost anything. This opinion, naturally, does not extend to the two of you! But it is essential that Lord Aldegard be warned of this as soon as possible.

There's nothing I can do. We're more or less prisoners here, and I'd be astonished if they allowed us access to a Guide.

Xarax considered this on his way here. Lord Aldegard will certainly come to the First Trankenn for the funeral of his friend – Nandak cannot refuse him an invitation. Xarax is sure that on his arrival he will ask to see you. He might use any pretext for this but it is likely that he will say that he wishes to pass you confidential information from the Emperor. You can then tell him what you know. It will be a bit late, but at least he will then be warned about the situation.

They were interrupted by a chime at the door. Xarax slipped away just before a servant came in carrying a covered tray. Niil hadn't asked for anything and he was on the point of sending it back when Ambar pushed past him and closed the door with the servant in the room.

"Karik!" he cried. "It's Karik!"

Indeed it was the young boy rescued from the clutches of the keeper of the Three Tankards inn by Tannder. He'd intended for Karik to serve as his personal messenger and now, finally, the boy was fulfilling that duty.

"Noble Lord," he said to Niil, "The Honourable Tannder has sent me to let you know that your master has returned to the R'hinz. They think he's here on Dvârinn, but they haven't been able to find out exactly where he is yet."

"Karik, it's great to see you! Tell us how you managed to get here – and if there's anything edible on that tray, maybe you can share it with us."

The tray turned out to hold a fine collection of delicacies supplied by the kitchen of Bakhtar Tower, and they set about devouring these while they talked.

"I'm here with a Guide called Wakhann," Karik told them. "He's waiting to take me back to Master Tannder, so if you have any messages for him I can take them for you. As you can see, I'm kitted out as a Ksantiri servant, so I can move about the ship without too much trouble as long as I keep my head down."

"You should bring Wakhann here."

"I don't think that's possible – if he came anywhere near your kang someone would be sure to spot him. And then…"

He broke off with a strangled croak, because he'd just spotted Xarax, who had shown himself, scaring the boy until he remembered that the haptir was a friend. Xarax had something to tell him, but realising that the boy was still nervous about him he chose to speak through Niil instead of getting within touching distance of Karik.

"Xarax says that you should ask your Guide to bring a small target-klirk that he could carry to Lord Julien's boat," Niil told him. "He says that has to be the first priority, and that everything else can wait. And I think he's right."

Xarax's arrival on the deck of the Isabelle at dawn on the following morning caused something of a stir. He was exhausted and completely drained of colour, and he was carrying in his claws a disc of the grey metal which Julien associated with klirks, although when Julien took it from him he found it was a lot lighter than he had expected. Of course he'd never seen titanium, a metal much harder and more heat-resistant than steel and which is used in the construction of missiles and rocket engines. On the other hand, he wasn't remotely surprised to find that one surface of the disc was engraved like a klirk, albeit one whose design seemed much simpler than most of the ones he'd seen hitherto.

Glad… here, Xarax told him. Thought… not make it. Fix klirk on deck.

"Tenntchouk and Gradik can do that. You need to come for a shower with me right away."

Julien handed the klirk to Tenntchouk, explained briefly what had to be done with it and then carried Xarax down to the tiny shower, where he quickly gave him the Yel energy he desperately needed. Then he carried him to his bunk and left him comfortably asleep on the pillow. By the time he got back up on deck the sailors had already fixed the klirk to the planking as he had instructed, and Ugo was now examining it carefully.

"Do you know what it is, Ugo?" asked Julien.

"It's a target-klirk. We use them to mark out somewhere we're exploring for the first time. Only the Guide who made it can use it. I suppose they chose this sort of klirk because it's the only type Xarax could carry. Most Guides keep a few of them, because if they didn't they'd have to wait for a new one to be made every time they needed one. Like I said, they can't be used by just anyone. I'm not certain, but I think this one belongs to Aïn. So how is Xarax?"

"He's asleep. He was nearly half dead, and it must have taken a hell of an effort to get this far. He hasn't been able to bring me up to date with what he's been doing yet, but at least we can be pretty sure that Aldegard knows I'm here. Now I suppose we just have to wait until Aïn comes calling."

"I imagine that Xarax told them to wait for a good long time – it wouldn't have been a lot of fun for Aïn if he'd appeared on the klirk before Xarax got here. That water's cold."

Of course the sailors could hear all of this even though they were trying to look inconspicuous, and so all Julien had to do to talk to them was to raise his voice a little.

"We should be getting a visit from a Guide," he told them. "That's what that piece of metal is for. If it's the Guide I think it is he's a very close friend. In case you've never seen anyone appear on a klirk before it looks weird but there's nothing magical about it, and certainly nothing to be scared of."

Gradik was quick to reassure him.

"Us, we knaaw about klirks," he said. "It'd take a saavage from the Nag Ling naat to knaaw about un."

"Good. In that case, if everything's tidy, can I suggest we go and have breakfast?"

***

They had plenty of time for breakfast, and in fact they'd also eaten lunch before Aïn reached them. Everyone was watching except for Xarax, who was still sleeping off the effects of his high-energy meal, and Aïn's entrance would have been very impressive, had in not been for for a badly-timed cross-wave which made the boat roll at the vital moment. Aïn slipped and rolled across the deck in fine slapstick fashion. It was greatly to the credit of the audience that none of them laughed, or even seemed to notice the incident. Julien rushed to Aïn's side.

"You wouldn't believe how happy I am to see you again," Julien told him. "I thought you were dead!"

He dropped to his knees and hugged his friend hard.

My Lord, I thought I had lost you. But I managed to follow your trail to the world where you were born, and then…

You can tell me all about it in a minute. But first I'd like you to see if there is anything you can do for Yol. He's deeply ashamed to find himself trapped in the body of an animal.

He most certainly shouldn't be! He's a hero in the Guild of Guides. He'll be known forever as 'Yulmir's Saviour'.

Well, please could you tell him that before he jumps overboard and drowns himself in shame?

Julien never found out exactly what passed between the Guides in the hour they spent together, but afterwards Ugo/Yol's whole demeanour changed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his mind. Then Aïn explained to them what had happened to him, and Yol had the honour of translating his experiences into words so that everyone could follow – and by now the crew was complete, because they had been joined by a positively sparkling and rainbow-hued Xarax.

Aïn had needed a few days to recover a little from the shock he had received from the booby-trapped klirk, but as soon as he was able he had started to hunt for Julien. He wasn't completely certain that Julien had survived, but he had thought that the odds were good enough to make a search worthwhile. He had one major advantage over his predecessor, Yol the Intrepid: Aïn had taken part in the search through Julien's mind. It's true that that operation had been a total fiasco that might have resulted in his disgrace, but at least it had given him an intimate knowledge of the one he was now searching for.

Like Yol before him, he had started out searching for traces of Julien in the Outside, but after several days of fruitless searching, and when he was on the point of giving up, he had had the same brainwave that Xarax had experienced when he was trying to rescue his friend from the chaos of the Outside: he started rummaging through his own memory in search of images of Julien's home world, a world he had glimpsed during their abortive sounding of Julien's mind earlier. And then he did something which Guides generally make a point of avoiding: he allowed himself a complete experience of Julien's personality, right to the point of experiencing for himself things that Julien had experienced in his life on Earth. This was quite a dangerous thing to do, but he felt that he had nothing left to lose, and so he had immersed himself in the memories of the boy from Earth – and, exactly as had happened to Julien before him, he saw the path to take, clear and safe through the surrounding chaos.

Aïn arrived in Julien's house, right on the klirk whose traces the Berthiers thought they had wiped clean, and at once he knew that Julien wasn't there. The room was full of his scent, but the trace was several days old. However, Julien's mother was there, and her yell of shock almost deafened the Guide's delicate ears. In her defence, Isabelle Berthier had been caught in a moment of weakness, sitting on her child's bed and holding his pillow to her face in an attempt to find a trace of his scent, and when a large semi-toasted blue dog with bright yellow eyes suddenly appeared in front of her she thought for a moment that it was one of the hounds of hell. Still, at least the yell brought her husband running, and he showed great presence of mind by putting himself between the intruder and his wife, who promptly fell silent.

Mr Berthier tried to work out what was going on. The animal didn't actually look threatening: it just stood there, looking at him with its strange yellow eyes. Its fur, a ridiculous powder-blue colour, was extensively singed, and it appeared to have suffered some burns, not all of which had fully healed.

A blue dog? Wasn't that how Julien had described the Guide who had saved his life?

"Aïn?" he said. "Are you Aïn?"

Aïn didn't speak French, or any other Earth language, come to that, and nor had he spent enough time rummaging about in Julien's mind to have extracted from it even the basics of French. But the man's meaning was obvious, and so he answered calmly in his strange Guide's voice.

"Aïn," he said.

"Je suis Jacques Berthier,"

"Pwa-pwa Yu-li-en," said Aïn.

"Oui, le papa de Julien. Et voici Isabelle, mon épouse."

"Mwa-mwa Yu-li-en."

"Oui, la maman de Julien. C'est lui qui vous envoie?"

Aïn was out of his depth here: his vocabulary didn't expend much beyond 'papa' and 'mama'. So he did what he had intended to do from the start: he moved close enough to the man to be in reach and then offered him his neck. Jacques Berthier had had a big black dog called Ugo for a long time, and so actually putting his hand on a dog's neck was almost an automatic reaction.

The Guides, like every highly-evolved telepathic species, had devised a sort of non-verbal communication kit which was essential for making contact with non-speaking species or creatures that had no language known to the Guide. It was a complex mixture of images and emotions allied with an extremely efficient model for the understanding of mental data, and within a few minutes he had succeeded in establishing a sufficient level of communication for what he needed. He learned about Julien's brief stay at the house and his subsequent return to Dvârinn. He also came to understand exactly how distressed the parents were: they simply couldn't understand how they could have allowed, with scarcely a murmur of protest, their only son to head off into a thoroughly dangerous destiny.

Of course, Aïn quickly realised what had happened, but he kept quiet about it: he knew that if they found out that they had been manipulated, illegally and immorally, by a haptir whose only concern was the fulfilment of his own mission to restore Yulmir to his normal self, they would certainly never forgive him. But he realised that there was something he could do for them: he could fulfil their urgent wish to be reunited with their son as quickly as possible, whatever it might cost them.

Aïn, like many of his colleagues, had a first-rate understanding of moral philosophy and he considered that he, as a citizen of the R'hinz, was partly responsible for the crime that had been perpetrated on these people. Of course he understood why Xarax had infringed the code of ethics which he himself had always tried scrupulously to observe, but even so he felt it his duty to do whatever he could to alleviate the consequences. And that is why, after waiting two days to prepare himself and to give the Berthiers time to get their most urgent affairs in order, he had simply transported them back to Nüngen with him. They were now enjoying Lord Aldegard's hospitality, and they had also been offered the services of a novice Guide to interpret for them and to help them to acquire the basics of Tünnkeh.

"You mean, my parents are in Aleth?" asked Julien.

"Yes, Julien, and they asked me to pass on their love to you. Actually they asked me to kiss you for them, although I'm not sure that you'd really want me to do that…"

During this recitation Aïn hadn't really spoken about what Xarax had done to his parents, although he intended to speak to him privately about it once this meeting was over.

"Then I suppose you'd better take me back there – just as soon as we've dealt with a few things here first…"

He turned to the sailors, who were staring at him open-mouthed.

"Tenntchouk," he asked, "how much money do we have left?"

"Waal, Maaster Anhel , aafter we'd paid for everything, there waas around thirty sertchen left. Oi'll go an' fetch it roight naaw."

Julien sighed: he was starting to get used to this sort of thing.

"I haven't changed, Tenntchouk," he said. "I'm the same as I always was, and I'm not going to change either. If you start calling me 'Master Anhel' again I'm going to think you don't like me any more. You can call me 'Julien' if you like: it's my real name, and it might be easier all round if you use it. But to be honest I'm quite happy being called 'laddie'. Is that all right?"

"Wall… aall roight, laddie. But if'n we'd knaawn, us, thaat you was a person so…"

"I just thought it would be better like that."

"Oi'll go fetch you yer gold, then."

"No, don't bother. The only reason I asked was because I want to be sure you'll have enough to look after the boat for a while. And it's your boat – this Honourable Guide will bear witness to that. Of course I'd quite like to be able to come sailing with you from time to time…"

"Waal, of caarse! 'Tis jaast sad as you haave ter leave naaw."

"Thank you. Anyway, we'll leave the klirk on the deck so that Aïn can bring me back whenever I have some free time. And because I don't fancy sailing on a manky heap of a boat we'll open you an account to make sure you have enough money to keep her shipshape. If you're happy with Kardenang as the ship's registered port I'm sure we can also fix you up with a kang permanently reserved for you at Mistress Nardik's – although obviously I don't mind at all if you want to make alternative arrangements. And if you want to hire a hand to help you out, by all means do – just make sure it's someone who can keep his mouth shut."

"We understaand thaat, us. We're naat completely stupid."

"Indeed you're not. That's why I want to be able to rely on you."

"Thaat yer caan, laddie. So, where do we sign?"

"You don't need to sign anything. I've got your word and you've got mine, and that's all we need. Now I'd better get ready to leave. In a day or two Aïn will come back with someone to deal with anything that still needs sorting out. Oh, and… when I first talked about buying a boat you said that you didn't know how to navigate, but I haven't noticed you having a problem with it so far."

"Waal, whaat we've done so faar, 'tis naat real navigation. We've scarce left th'archipelago. Baat if'n ye waant to sail around the world, we'll need to staady some. Else ye'll need to supply a pilot."

"Right."

When Julien and his companions returned to Bakhtar Tower Lord Aldegard was tactful enough not to keep him for more than a couple of minutes before he had them taken straight to his parents' kang.

The Berthiers had only been in Aleth for a couple of days, but they were already wearing local clothing, which was a lot more comfortable in this climate than either European clothes or, indeed, the Dvârinn clothes that Julien was still wearing, and which were already making him feel far too hot. His parents were wearing white abbas with a gold and fuchsia trim which proclaimed that they were connected to the Imperial House.

The careful cut and styling of his mother's abba had the effect of transforming her into a sort of Medieval queen, and she no longer looked at all like the sturdy daughter of a long line of Norman peasants. Of course she had always had a pretty face and a clear complexion which made Julien think of crème fraîche, pastry and morning dew, but now her auburn hair had been gathered into a high bun, as was currently the fashion in Aleth, and it had the effect of making her look dignified and noble. Her husband looked completely at ease in a garment which, back on Earth, he would have considered only suitable for wearing at a carnival. And next to him stood a Guide whose canary-yellow fur clashed horribly with anything he got close to, because the apartment was tastefully decorated in delicate pastel shades.

Once the greetings and the emotion of the reunion were over, Mr Berthier looked at Ugo and said, "So, old boy, did you enjoy the journey? I'd say Julien's done a great job. And that's a beautiful collar you've got – it looks like white gold. Isabelle's going to be jealous!"

Of course he had spent the previous twelve years talking to the dog, but never before had he received an answer, and so he was astonished when Ugo said, "And well she might be – it's a completely unique piece. There's nothing like it in the whole of the R'hinz. It would look wonderful on her but I'm afraid that I can't manage without it at the moment."

"Ugo! You can talk!" exclaimed Mr Berthier.

"I've always been able to talk, but only inside my head. Now you can actually hear me."

"I'm so pleased! So where did you find this amazing device?"

"A friend of Julien's gave it to me."

"It's really impressive. He obviously has some excellent friends."

"Yes… I don't want to dampen your enthusiasm, but apparently he also has some rather powerful enemies."

"True – even though it's hard for me to understand why."

Up to this point Isabelle had been chatting quietly with her son, but now she raised her voice and spoke more formally.

"Julien," she said, "I'd like to introduce you to the Honourable Wakhann, who has been kind enough to act as our interpreter, and who has been very much looking forward to meeting you."

The yellow Guide stepped forward and offered his neck for Julien to touch.

May Your Lordship please accept the greetings of a lowly Guide.

Honourable Wakhann, you're doing a difficult job, and you're performing an immense service to my family. And I'd be very grateful indeed if you could do me another favour and stop using the High Speech – and I'd really prefer you just to call me 'Julien', though I suppose I could put up with 'My Lord' if you absolutely insist on formality.

As you wish, My Lord. Anyway, now that the Honourable Master Yol is back I imagine that my humble contribution will not be required any longer.

Don't be so sure. The Honourable Yol is likely to be busy with other tasks, and I'm sure he would like you to go on looking after my parents – if you don't mind, of course.

I would be only too happy, My Lord. Not only would this offer me the rare privilege of getting to know those who are close to you, but it would also give me an opportunity of learning about a culture totally alien to the Nine Worlds.

I'm glad that you're happy to carry on, then. One more thing, though: I absolutely forbid any manipulation of their minds or their memories – for example, I don't want their memories to be altered to make them forget about any of the Guides they might meet. I want you to treat them exactly the same as you would me. You can discuss this with your Masters if you like, but I don't think they'll want to make an issue of it.

Neither do I, My Lord. In fact, Master Aïn has already given me the same instruction.

***

Lord Aldegard was holding a Council meeting, but it was a very restricted meeting – in fact the only people present were himself, Julien, Xarax, Tannder, Aïn and Yol/Ugo. They were meeting to try to formulate a strategy for the next few days, a period of time that could well be critical for Dvârinn. Tannder was there because Julien had asked him to be – he wanted the input of someone who was in no way politically connected to the situation.

"Tomorrow, My Lord," said Aldegard, "is the day of Ylavan's funeral. You have the choice: you can attend or not, as you think best. After that you have a period of time – it shouldn't be more than twenty days – to nominate a new Mirror for Dvârinn. The ceremony for that will have to take place on Dvârinn, and normally you would need to be present. You could choose not to attend, but I think that if you did that it would be sure to escalate the rumours already circulating about the weakening of the Emperor's power."

"What would you advise me to do?" Julien asked him.

"Well, you don't have to make an appearance tomorrow. I could go and offer official condolences on your behalf. That would then give us twenty days to arrange for a meeting of the Council of Mirrors where we could decide on a new Mirror for Dvârinn."

"I suspect," said Julien, "that you'd agree that we can't appoint Nandak as the new Mirror. There's already a strong suspicion that he murdered his father. I don't think he should even be First Lord of the Ksantiris."

"Well, if he did do such a thing I don't think there will be any way of proving it. He might be a nasty piece of work, but Nandak is nobody's fool."

"Do you think so? I mean, this whole business of having a secret cache of forbidden weapons – doesn't that sound insane to you? Surely he doesn't think people will just stand by and let him use artillery or whatever without doing something about it?"

"If the story is true, I think it can only be because someone has told him that you are no longer in the R'hinz – and if that were the case he could probably conquer the whole planet with his forbidden weapons without anyone being able to stop him. But, again, there's no actual proof that he has such weapons. And in any case you can't interfere with the Ksantiri family succession."

"Maybe not, but there must be some way for us to put a stop to this before things get completely out of hand. For a start, wouldn't it make him have second thoughts if the Emperor were to prove that he is still on the scene?"

"Well, yes – but he could choose to confront you. It's happened in the past."

"And what happened?"

"None of the people who tried it ever managed to carry out their threats. And as for the ones who tried to break the laws of the R'hinz on the quiet, the Council of Mirrors declared their Houses extinct and abolished their Marks. That's what happened to House T'ang Ser, who once ruled over the city of Tchenn Ril, a place with which I believe you are acquainted."

"I'd prefer not to let things get that far.. Obviously I'm worried about it, and I've been thinking about it for a while. And I think I've thought of a way to deal with this and at the same time keep the damage to a minimum…"

***

Once he was back in his kang – the one he'd shared with Niil and Ambar in happier times – Julien spoke to Tannder.

"You didn't say anything at the meeting," he said. "What do you think of my plan?"

"I tend to agree with the First Lord: I think it's a bit reckless. But I don't think you told us everything and I'd prefer to hear the rest of the plan before I pass judgement – if that's what you want me to do, of course."

Julien then gave a full exposition of his plan and received both Tannder's approval and a few suggestions as to how to make it work more effectively. Then he sent for Master Subadar, who had been his disciple in an earlier incarnation and was now the Grand Master of the Circle of Major Arts, inviting him to supper. He was sure that the man who had reminded him of the existence of the Narthex would be able to help him to find a way around some of the remaining problems…

The Ksantiris' First Trankenn resounded with the dull beat of the funeral drums. A cold end-of-winter sun shone down on the crowd assembled on the top deck beneath the perfectly-furled sails of the vessel. A few cable lengths to starboard was the equally impeccably turned out trankenn of the Gyalmangs, on which the death drums could also be heard. Lord Ylavan's body rested at the prow of his ship in a coracle made of leather and plaited wood, an exact replica of the small fishing boats used by his ancestors thousands of years before. Flowers and aromatic wood-shavings covered the body, which was naked except for a thin death-mask of beaten gold that covered his face. Lady Axelia stood beside the boat wearing the grey woollen garment worn by the fisher-folk of long ago, ready to give the order to the six sailors who would lower Lord Ylavan onto the ocean for his final voyage. She was just about to give the ritual command which would begin the operation of the winches that would slowly lower the coracle to the surface thirty metres below when a murmur arose from the crowd.

Lady Axelia turned and saw that a young boy had just appeared behind her. He was thin and wearing nothing at all except for the instantly recognisable tracery of the white Marks of the Imperial House. As she looked at him he spoke, his voice carrying clearly to everyone aboard the vessel.

"Noble Lady Axelia," he said, "before you set your Noble Husband to sail upon the Unfathomable Ocean, I would ask that you permit Yulmir to greet his Mirror for the last time."

Despite her surprise and the awkward robe she was wearing, Lady Axelia bowed with great grace and dignity and then stepped aside to allow the unexpected visitor to reach the coracle, where he gazed for a long moment at the golden mask before returning to the widow's side.

"No-one, Noble Lady, is more worthy to protect his people from the perils of the sea," the boy said. "No-one is more worthy to guide his people through the Streams of Destiny. No-one is more worthy to inspire the Guardians of his lineage with his wisdom."

Once the ritual words had been spoken Lady Axelia waved her hand and the six men began to sing an ancient shanty as they slowly lowered their late Master down to the surface of the ocean. Once the coracle was floating freely a long blast from a whistle triggered the hoisting of the sails aboard the two trankenns, and the great vessels began, slowly at first and then with increasing speed, to draw away from the little boat that bore the dead Lord.

Aboard the First Trankenn there was no sound at all except for the murmur of the wind as it blew gently through the rigging. His arms folded, Julien stood at the prow of the ship and looked at the faces of the crowd. The first stage of his plan appeared to have passed off without a hitch. The air was actually very cold, but he couldn't feel it because his whole body had been anointed with a very effective protective balm that prevented him from feeling the chill: it would have been a pity, he thought, if his funeral speech had had to be delivered through chattering teeth. Nor did he feel at all embarrassed at standing naked in front of everyone, because the old Master of Tradition had been right: the Marks were the only garment that a Noble Son needed. But now he had to press on with the plan.

"Will not the Noble Lords of the Ksantiris welcome the Guardian of the Nine Worlds?" he asked.

Everyone immediately turned to look at the platform where Nandak, Nekal, Niil and Ambar were sitting. Nandak, Niil and Ambar all looked very surprised, but Nekal's face was utterly horrified, and as the others stood up and tried to preserve a measure of dignity, he fell back onto his chair, his face grey and his legs temporarily refusing to obey him. His older brother had to grab hold of his arm and drag him to his feet. Nandak wasn't quite sure what Nekal's problem was, but he did know that he couldn't allow any Ksantiri to shame the family by failing to stand.

"Nandak," said Julien, "perhaps we should give your brother a moment to recover from the joy of seeing his Emperor again. I know tradition says that 'The Emperor is at home anywhere in the Nine Worlds', but I should probably have announced my visit in advance to spare him this emotional shock."

Nandak had by now covered the distance between himself and Julien and dropped to his knees, his head bowed in the posture of one seeking forgiveness.

"I beg Your Imperial Highness to forgive this regrettable incident," he said. "Please accept my most sincere welcome, and my deepest gratitude for the honour you showed to the memory of my Noble and greatly-missed Father."

"Consider the incident forgotten," said Julien. "As for your greatly-missed Father, my true and most faithful Mirror, he at least gave me, in addition to his loyalty, his Noble Son Niil, who has been an important Councillor to me despite his lack of years."

Then he raised his voice and addressed Niil over his older brother's head.

"Lord Niil, will you not find me something with which to cover my body? Surely there are some in House Ksantiri who have not lost their manners?"

Niil ran across and removed all of his clothing, presenting each garment one by one until Julien was fully dressed and then adjusting the ceremonial hatik. By doing this he played his part in the ancient ritual which demonstrated that a Lord had absolute trust in his vassal, to the point of allowing him closer access to his body than his own clothes – and also that any injury done to the vassal was tantamount to a declaration of war against the Lord – in this case, against the Emperor himself.

Having thus delivered a message which was certain to reach the whole R'hinz in the very near future, Julien sent his friend to find some clothes – after all, Niil didn't have the benefit of the protective balm and Julien didn't want everyone to see him shivering – and then he followed Nandak towards the VIP part of the ship, where the cream of the Dvârinn aristocracy was awaiting his pleasure. He paused long enough to make sure that Lady Axelia was looking after Ambar: the former street-boy was looking completely lost, although he did brighten up when Julien smiled at him.

Julien had to endure the respectful homage of a vast number of characters, all of them burdened with a highly inaccurate opinion of their own importance, before he was finally able to escape with Nandak into a slightly smaller room. Here he met not only Lord Aldegard and Lady Delia, his wife, but also Lady Axelia, who was accompanied by Ambar and Niil, who was once again dressed appropriately for the occasion. There were around fifteen other members of the nobility there too, including Lord Delian of the Gyalmangs, the would-be chief ally of the future Master of the World, Nandak. These people were gathered around a long table laid out for a banquet. But as he was being led towards the position of honour Julien noticed that someone was missing.

"Is Nekal having stomach trouble?" he asked his host. "Or has the vision of my person been enough to spoil his appetite?"

Obviously Nandak didn't know. No explanation for his brother's absence, and hence appalling breach of etiquette, sprang to his mind. As he drew breath to launch into a new round of excuses Julien forestalled him.

"Please," he said. "Your brother is old enough to answer for himself, and I'm sure that he has a good reason for this apparent discourtesy. But if you're worried about his health, perhaps my Privy Councillor could try to find out what the problem is?"

Which, translated from the Diplomatic, meant "Something is rotten in the House of Ksantiri and your brother is shamelessly spitting in my face. You'd better sort it out quickly or I'll have to deal with it myself!"

"No, it's fine, Your Highness, I'll send for him."

"As you wish. But it would be impolite for us to start eating while we're still waiting for a guest, so perhaps you could grant me the favour of a short private interview? I think I remember seeing a small room just over there which would do nicely. Aldegard, would you be kind enough to join us?"

Nandak visibly relaxed: a private interview with the Emperor and Aldegard could only be about the office of Mirror. He was glad to be able to talk about something other than the shameful behaviour of his cretinous brother. So they excused themselves to their guests and moved to the smaller room, where they sat in comfortable chairs around a small table well furnished with refreshments.

"If you don't mind," said Julien, "I'd like to introduce someone to you. Xarax!"

The haptir seemed to materialise on the arm of the chair Nandak was sitting in. The man started to reach towards his belt.

"If I were you," Julien warned him, "I'd keep absolutely still. Xarax is one of my personal advisers, and he's by far the most dangerous. Provided that you can keep still you'll have the privilege of a private interview with the Emperor's Haptir. He'll replay for you a most fascinating conversation between Lord Delian and his Master-at-Arms."

Xarax laid his claw on Nandak's arm – the man seemed almost to have turned to stone, for some reason – and then removed it again a few seconds later. Once again Nandak drew breath to protest, and once again Julien stopped him.

"I really would urge you not to deny the evidence," he said calmly. "Lord Aldegard is here as a representative of the Council of Mirrors, and I'm sure you know the power that they hold. From this point on every word you utter will be accurately recorded, just as happened in the scene you've just witnessed, and your words will have immediate and irreversible consequences for you and your House. Is that clear?"

Nandak nodded.

"Lord Aldegard is going to suggest a course of action which has my full approval, and I hope that it gets yours, too."

"Noble Lord," said Aldegard, "You would appear to be guilty of conspiracy against the security of the Nine Worlds. You are, of course, aware of the punishment for such a major crime. However, the Council of Mirrors is prepared to offer you an opportunity to accept a reduced penalty. You may, as a sign of your contrition and as a way to keep the peace of the R'hinz, lead the Council's Guardians to the arms referred to in the conversation you have just witnessed, as well as to any other illegal arms cache that you might know about. You can also submit voluntarily to certain changes in the administration of your domains, and in particular, of the Domain of Ksantir.

"That might come as a surprise to you, but you can blame your Honourable Brother for that: he was stupid enough to refuse to comply with an order that came directly from the Emperor himself, thereby indicating that he did not believe that Yulmir still had sufficient power to protect his messengers. I might add that the hatred he has kindled in the hearts of the people he was supposed to protect has convinced the Council that his talents would be better employed in governing some small uninhabited islet or other.

"But, back to your own situation: you can accept the discreet supervision of a private Councillor appointed by the Council of Mirrors. And finally you can give up the burden of becoming Emperor's Mirror – you can say that you do not feel worthy of following your late lamented Father in that role.

"Of course, you are entirely at liberty to choose another path – for example, you could challenge the accuracy of the charges that have been levelled at you. However, I must warn you that if you choose to follow that path I can absolutely guarantee that the resulting enquiry will uncover the truth – the whole truth, good or bad. Nor should you think that it will be possible to hide anything. For a crime of this magnitude the most extreme means of investigation are legitimate. I'm sure you are aware that there are some highly effective deep mind-probing techniques available to us, even though their use in the case of lesser crimes is prohibited due to the risk of permanent damage to the mind of the person being sounded. But if you truly have nothing to hide then you would have nothing to fear from such an investigation. So… what would you like to do?"

"I accept your terms."

"Finally you're showing some good sense. It's just a pity that you were bereft of it when you committed yourself to this stupidity."

"And now that you've agreed," said Julien, standing up, "I don't see any reason to keep your guests waiting any longer, do you?"

***

It was a strange meal. The Noble Lord Nandak seemed lost in thought. Of course, the other guests decided, he was probably grieving for his lost father. As for Lord Nekal, maybe he'd eaten something not entirely fresh at breakfast, because he barely ate a thing – and that was odd, because normally he had a very healthy appetite indeed. The consensus among the guests was that Nekal's cook was going to find himself in hot water.

Everyone said that the Emperor was absolutely charming, even though that was hardly the first adjective which had sprung to mind when people had described the Master of the Known Universe in the past. All the same, it was certainly an apt description for the new personality under whose guise Yulmir had chosen to reveal himself – and all the ladies present declared that he was exactly what they would have looked for in a son.

One guest, however, left the table in a state of such confusion that it quite ruined the rest of his day. It was Lord Delian, who simply could not understand why, out of all the subjects available to him, the Emperor had chosen to ask him for the name of his Master-at-Arms.

(Editor's note: this is the first half-line of a well-known poem by Joachim du Bellay [1522-1560] which is about the joy of returning home after a long journey. The opening could be translated as "Happy the man who, like Ulysses…")

Julien's parents were not altogether happy about his Marks. During their reunion the previous afternoon his father had made a commendably restrained comment on his new haircut, which Mr Berthier described as 'a little bit over-the-top but definitely masculine', but today he'd found out about Julien's 'tattoos'. They hadn't actually said anything about them, because when their son had returned from the ceremony on Dvârinn he had brought Niil and Ambar with him, and so their conversation, which was in any case limited by their need to make use of an interpreter, was entirely courteous, and that despite the fact that Julien's two friends were also sporting 'silver tattoos'. Julien knew what they were really thinking about it, but for once he didn't care: all that mattered to him was that he had been reunited with his friends, and now all he wanted to do was to spend some time alone with them.

Tannder, who understood exactly what Julien was thinking, made things easy for him by making an appearance after a few minutes to remind His Lordship that he was expected in his private apartments, thus rescuing Julien from any attempt by his parents to insist on him staying to eat with them. Julien also wondered whether it had been planning on Tannder's part or thoughtlessness on Aldegard's that had installed his parents in a kang separated from his own by a great length of twisty corridors which would discourage them from dropping in on him unannounced. Of course, nobody – not even his parents – could just drop in on the Guardian of the Nine Worlds without advance notice…

Until now the three boys hadn't really had a chance to get together or have a private chat, and the first thing that Julien did once they were alone was to hug them both.

Ambar was the one who asked the question that they had both wanted to ask for some time.

"You've cut your hair, and you've got the Marks of the Imperial House," he said. "How come? Xarax hasn't told us anything!"

"I only started wearing the Marks yesterday evening," Julien told them. "I'll tell you about it later."

"I loved the way you just appeared at the funeral," said Niil. "My brothers were completely flabbergasted. I think they'd made up their minds that there wasn't an Emperor any longer. I hope you're going to tell us what you were talking about in that little room just before the meal. Nandak looked as if he'd seen a ghorr coming after him when you came back into the dining room."

"Yes, I'll have to tell you about that, because it concerns you directly – both of you."

"Right. And maybe you'll also tell us about you wanting us to perform the Rite of Trust, because that came right out of nowhere. You really didn't need to do that, you know."

"Yes, I did – and actually that's why I turned up in the nude. Tannder suggested it. He's pure gold, that man. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that nobody would dare to lift a finger against you after that, even if I'm not around all the time. When you're dealing with morons like Nekal it's a good idea to make sure our relationship is spelled out in black and white. Anyway, I rather liked putting your clothes on. They were nice and warm, especially your underwear."

"Yes, I noticed."

"It didn't seem to make that much of an impression on you at the time."

"That's because I was freezing my bits off! I'm amazed you weren't blue with cold yourself!"

"I have a superhuman nature, don't forget! No, to be honest, Master Subadar found a Health Master who provided us with a box of some special ointment or other that protects against the cold. It's quite long-lasting, too."

"So Master Subadar was in on your plot too?"

"He certainly was. In fact, he was the one who told me how to do it and what to say. And obviously Aïn helped, too. That's another one who I'm pretty sure is my friend just because he likes me and not because I'm the Emperor. A bit like you."

"A little while back I'd have said that it's because we're Ksantiris and we're all like that. But after what my bastard brothers did…"

"I have to admit they gave me an interesting impression of what the nobility of the R'hinz is really like. I hope there aren't too many more out there like them. Did you know that most of the people of Ksantir hate Nekal like poison?"

"Well, I'm not entirely surprised to hear it. So what's going to happen to them?"

"Provided they use what little sense they have and go along with what we've arranged for them without making waves, Nekal is going to end up as governor of the most remote uninhabited chunk of rock we can find. But it's a bit more complicated knowing what to do with Nandak. We discussed it with Aldegard for quite a long time. The simplest solution would be to ship him off with a one-way ticket to Tandil for threatening the security of the Nine Worlds and then bump you up to First Lord of the Ksantiris and make your Noble Mother Councillor-Regent until the Council of Mirrors decide that your training is complete. But everyone said that would be a rotten thing to do to you – after all, the whole situation stinks to high heaven and we don't really know who was involved in the conspiracy and who wasn't. You know that we're by no means sure that your father died from natural causes, and I would absolutely hate for you to suddenly fall ill. As for Ambar, if anything happened to you it would be very long odds indeed against him surviving until the end of the day. There's no shortage of people out there who would like to become First Lord of the Ksantiris, and you two would be in their way. Some of your brother's supporters refer to you as 'the bastard and the spare part', and I wouldn't want to repeat what they call Lady Axelia. Your mother has chosen to come and live on Nüngen, and I think that was a really good idea."

"But… if I understand what you're saying, it sounds as if Nandak has won! He gets to stay as First Lord, even though he's a murderer and a traitor!"

"Well, you could look at it that way. But in fact his hands are completely tied, and it also means that we get to deal with the forbidden weapons without having to annihilate Ksantir the way that Tchenn Ril was destroyed in the past. Nor do we have to obliterate House Ksantiri and scatter its members. We'll keep a close eye on your brother, and in any case once it's clear that you don't want to replace him he'll no longer have any reason to try to kill you or your mother – or Ambar, either."

"But suppose I want to avenge my father's death?"

"Obviously you have the right to do that, but you would have to choose between assassinating Nandak – which would almost certainly result in you and anyone who helped you being sent to Tandil – or you could prove that your brother was responsible for your father's death, and really I don't think it'll be at all easy to do that. I'm pretty sure that right at this moment there's an epidemic of suicides on Dvârinn affecting anyone who might have known anything at all about your Father's death.

"Obviously everyone, including me, understands how you feel, and if you do decide to avenge your father I'll intervene personally to make sure that nobody interferes. I might even lend you Tannder, just to make sure that nobody shoots you in the back. I'm sure he would agree to do that. He likes you very much – in fact he'd probably even be prepared to go with you to Tandil and try to keep the taks off your back for a day or so, which is about as long as you could hope to last even with a Silent Warrior backing you up. But please stop and think about it first. You owe me that much.

"I also want you to think about what I'm going to do. Nandak is cunning, but if he has done what we think he did there will still be some evidence somewhere. I don't think you'd ever be able to find it, but I, on the other hand, have so many means of investigation open to me that I probably don't even know what all of them are. And I'll ask Tannder and Subadar to use them discreetly. Before too long your brother will start to relax, and that's more likely if he thinks you don't suspect him. He's not stupid, but he's not so clever that he can't make mistakes. He thinks you're not worth bothering about, and he doesn't yet realise that the whole power of the Emperor is on his case – and even if he does discover that, he still won't realise quite what that power is. True, I've just slapped him down, but as far as he can see he's still in charge, and he thinks that sooner or later he'll regain his full power and his freedom to act. He simply doesn't understand that we'll be watching him like a hawk, wherever he goes and whatever he does. And if it does turn out that he had nothing to do with your father's death, you'll know for sure, and if he's guilty you'll also know for sure – and then you'll be able to choose how the story ends: you can either have him sent to Tandil, or you can claim your Right of Retribution and face him in person.

"Yes, I know you'd have preferred it if we'd discussed this before what happened yesterday, but I didn't really get a chance. So what do you think?"

"I think that I'd have to be thicker than Nekal not to agree. And… thanks for getting so involved on my behalf."

"Oh, it's not purely on your behalf! After all, I hate injustice, and I'd be furious if he's guilty and gets away with it. And obviously I don't want to lose a friend just when I've got him back. I wish you could have been there when I met the Neh-kyong!"

"You've actually seen a Neh-kyong?" gasped Ambar in disbelief.

"Well, it's not really 'seeing' as such. It's sort of weird, actually. But, yes, I have met one. His name is Tchenn Ril, the same as the ruined city he's guarding, and he says he's in my debt. So perhaps when things have calmed down a bit we could go and visit him if you like."

"Xarax told us you've got a boat," said Ambar. "What was it like during the storm? We couldn't really feel it too much on the trankenn, but I suppose it was a lot rougher for you…"

Niil seemed to be lost in thought, but Ambar went on plying Julien with questions for a long time, reliving his adventures with him. Julien even offered, after a brief hesitation, a complete description of Dillik and his nocturnal meeting with Xarax. He was a bit nervous about admitting to sharing his bed with another boy, but on the other hand he didn't want his friendship with Ambar to be tainted by secrets. But his friend's reaction demonstrated immediately that there was nothing to worry about.

"I think that's a really nice story you told him," said Ambar. "What with the dream and the kite as well, it was about the nicest thing you could have given him. And I reckon he deserved it, an' all, 'cos it must have been tough for you with all that stuff happening to you, and he must have cheered you up by sharing your bed. I hope maybe I can meet him one day – and if I do I'll give him a present too, to thank him for looking after you."

Julien still didn't really know Ambar as well as he would have liked, but he was very happy indeed to discover that jealousy wasn't a part of his make-up.

"And while we're on that subject," Ambar went on, with a familiar glint in his eye, "don't you think you ought to have a bath?"

"You think I ought to wash off the dust of the road, do you?"

"That's it. Well, maybe it's not dust, but sea-spray – I mean, all that salt is very bad for the skin."

"And I suppose your sense of duty is forcing you to help me to get rid of it?"

"Well, I'm not really all that keen, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices, don't we?"

"Could it be Tannder who's been teaching you about sacrifice, then?"

"Yes, and he said I have to be really nice to you. And to Niil, of course. And you don't want to make me disobey Tannder, do you?"

"Certainly not! You should always obey your teachers. Did he also tell you to sit like that with your laï pushed right up to the top of your thighs?"

"Well, no, that was my own idea. It seems to work with you every time, a bit like fishing from a very small fish tank. So, about that bath..?"

"Well… I'm not sure. It'll soon be time for supper."

"Oh, I'm sure we've got plenty of time."

They did indeed have plenty of time, and after a while Niil came and joined them, unable to resist the peals of laughter echoing from the bathroom and caused by Ambar's attempts to compare, millimetre by millimetre, the Marks on his body with those now decorating some of the more interesting parts of Julien's anatomy.

The next few days were spent planning and implementing a complicated and demanding programme of training with various Masters and meetings with Lord Aldegard. Julien had to put his foot down to make sure he kept a little time for himself, and he was absolutely determined not to be separated from Niil and Ambar again, even though some people would have liked to see the pair sent off to be educated a long way away from their young protector. By now most of the adults working with him had discovered that there was a point beyond which he couldn't be pushed, no matter how hard they tried, but some Grand Masters and other important people, misled by his kind nature and his general politeness, made the mistake of trying to treat him like the child which, technically, he still was. He was quite happy for his parents to treat him like that, but if the First Son of the Whotsits or the Grand Superintendent of the Guild of Whatever tried it, they met with implacable opposition.

Julien had checked and double-checked with Tannder that no stray copy of The Precious Garland of Delights or The Secret Garden of Enchanted Flowers had been left in his parents' kang – he had no wish whatsoever to discuss certain aspects of the culture of the Nine Worlds with them. Tannder assured him that neither volume could be found in their apartment, though he completely failed to mention that a beautiful copy of a companion work, The Complete Cornucopia of Blissful Spouses, had been artlessly left on one of their bedside cabinets, nor that the same cabinet also contained a small, artistically decorated chest which held a number of strange accessories, the use of which was carefully described, with copious highly explicit illustrations, in the Cornucopia.

He didn't yet know whether or not Mr and Mrs Berthier had made any use of either, but he was able to tell Julien that his parents were making steady progress in Tünnkeh, and that they had also started visiting the city of Aleth in the company of the Guard Askil, who had been assigned to them.

Julien had arranged for Tannder to spend an hour a day with him teaching him how to use the present that had been given to him by the Neh-kyong Tchenn Ril. He would have been happy to give the nagtri to Niil, whose eyes had lit up when he saw the blood-drinking blade for the first time, but the nature of the weapon made that impossible: this nagtri could never have another master. He insisted on taking his lessons with his friends, and before long Karik started training with them too. He still looked undersized and scrawny for a boy of fourteen, but his muscles and coordination were developing day by day.

Ambar, being younger, had to struggle and expend a lot of energy trying to keep up, but despite this Tannder had arranged for him to have some extra lessons in archery, using both a regular bow and a small but extremely powerful crossbow. As well as all this he still had to spend a large part of each day doing regular lessons with a number of different teachers, all of whom faithfully reported on his effort – or lack of effort – to his official tutor, Tannder.

Niil, on the other hand, was free to spend his time as he wanted. He spent part of it improving his combat techniques and catching up on his academic studies, which had been interrupted by the arrival of Julien. He was determined to reach a level that would be appropriate for his position of Privy Councillor. He'd also decided that from this point on he was going to follow Julien wherever he went in order to protect him: history was full of people who had died because they had nobody to watch their backs.

Tannder had been sticking to his promise to educate and train Karik, making the best possible use of his natural abilities and his intelligence which, now that it finally had a chance to flourish, was blossoming steadily. Very quickly the boy became a part of Julien's inner circle, sharing meals and joining in with such rare opportunities as they found for escaping from their studies. Ambar was of course always keen to explore new territories, and so he persuaded Karik to join him for a shower as soon as he could, though he did ask Julien and Niil first if they had any objections. And he quickly discovered that although Karik wasn't a lot taller or heavier than he was himself, his sexual development was normal for his age – and of course a normal-sized penis on a small frame looks larger than it really is, while his testicles also looked uncommonly large to Ambar's envious eyes. Further experimentation proved that caressing the penis made it get even larger, and the few little black hairs at the base of it were an object of admiration for Julien and Niil, as well as Ambar. But the crowning glory, as far as all three younger boys were concerned, was Karik's ability to produce an amount of whitish sperm – a product which, if those working on him had the patience and skill to hold it back long enough, could spurt out a surprising distance. Of course this led to some serious experimentation, in which the older boy found himself the subject of a number of highly frustrating, if ultimately satisfying, attempts by his three friends to try to ascertain which method could cause the the slowest, most violent orgasm and the most spectacular result.

***

At first Julien had worried about Ambar's passionate interest in sex of any sort, and about the way he seemed happy to leap into bed – or more usually into the shower – with just about anyone and at any time. But soon he realised that for Ambar sex and love were two completely different things. He liked sex the way he liked pastries and cakes, as a gourmet who was always keen to discover new flavours. Love, on the other hand, he reserved for just two people, and in different ways for each.

He felt for Niil a serious deep affection combined with a degree of hero-worship, the way a little brother often feels about a really good and loving older brother. And Niil had by now adopted him completely, especially since he now saw Ambar as his only real brother. He watched over him with tenderness, even if he often chose to hide it behind teasing and jokey remarks.

As for the way Ambar felt about Julien, that was patently clear to everyone who knew them. Although Ambar tried to keep his real feelings hidden except for when he was about to go to sleep in Julien's comforting arms, when he would whisper the way he truly felt, he was unable to prevent the way his eyes lit up whenever Julien entered the room, and nor could he stop himself from touching Julien's arm all the time, as if to convince himself that the older boy was really here at his side. Not that Julien did a lot to help disguise their true feelings for one another: he would often slip into a near-trance just from watching the way the rays of the setting sun touched Ambar's delicate, perfect, translucent ear, or he would stroke Ambar's soft brush of blond hair, or almost unconsciously pull the younger boy onto his lap, or rearrange the folds of his clothing, even while he was in the middle of a deep conversation with Tannder. They obviously loved one another in a way that didn't need words, and it was a love that they both felt they were sealing when, for the first time, they shared a genuine kiss. At that point they both recognised that no bodily games, no matter how loving or daring, could ever have the intensity or depth of meaning of this sharing of each other's breath.

They always slept together, and sometimes – if he was sleeping alone and woke up in the night – Niil would join them. But he didn't always sleep alone: Karik was frequently invited to join them for the night, and when he did he shared Niil's bed, because Niil had found that he didn't really like sleeping on his own any longer, and he appreciated the comforting presence of the boy whose gratitude had naturally evolved into friendship. But sometimes Karik was away, off running some strange errand or other for Tannder. He would never speak about these and the others knew better than to ask. Nor would he ever speak about his previous life at The Three Tankards, when he had had to put up with demands of its disgusting patrons. Perhaps one day he would be able to find the words to exorcise that part of his life, which was now happily behind him.

***

Ugo visited them from time to time, but he spent most of his time with Master Subadar, to whom he had once been Chenn da. Indeed, he still was, for the Grand Master of the Circle of Major Arts had refused to consider their bond broken by the terrible ordeal that had befallen Yol. They had chosen each other when they were still children and together they had developed each other's abilities, each in his own particular field, until they formed a highly efficient pairing. The Guide had led his human brother through many places full of marvels and dangers. Yol was unquestionably the most gifted Guide of his generation, and his role in their symbiotic relationship had not been limited to provided transport. They pooled every resource of their sharp minds, and at times the Guide's incredible mental discipline had been necessary to pull them out out of difficult predicaments.

When Yol the Intrepid had disappeared into the Outside, Subadar had found in Aïn a highly gifted partner, and he still made use of his services as a Guide now. But even if he had wanted to do it, it wasn't possible to establish a Chenn da link twice in a single lifetime. Julien didn't know what happened in the meetings between Subadar and Ugo/Yol, but he did know that whenever he met his friend on his way to his lessons with Master Subadar, Ugo seemed happy and was always ready to chat with him about their life on Earth, and the fact that he had lived there trapped in a dog's body didn't seem in any way to have darkened his memories of their shared experiences.

Only very rarely did the full Council of Mirrors come together, and so the atmosphere when Julien entered the Council Dome was solemn. Klirks had been installed and secured especially for this event and the Palace had been inspected and searched for days on end in order to prevent any attempt at intrusion or sabotage, but Julien was still less than convinced that it was sensible to hold this meeting in a Palace where an 'unthinkable' attack had already taken place.

By the standards of the Palace this room wasn't very big. It was completely covered by a dome that seemed to have been cut from a single gigantic opal and it had in its centre a circle of ten seats clearly intended for the members of the Council and the Emperor himself. There were no markings on them to designate rank, but a number of them were designed to fit the morphology of their occupants. Behind, or in some cases beside, each seat stood an attendant.

Julien had put his foot down and flatly refused to be decked out in the fuchsia and gold ceremonial robe that had been provided for him. Instead he had chosen to wear the Ksantiri hatik that Niil had given him on the First Trankenn, claiming that it would demonstrate that, although Nandak had not been chosen as Mirror, the Emperor had still not rejected House Ksantiri. Of course this was simply an excuse to avoid having to wear a garment whose colours clashed horribly with his red hair, even as short as it currently was. But in fact Julien was happy to have a means of demonstrating his support for Niil. His only concession to the Imperial colours was to have a border of them woven into the bottom of his tunic. Xarax sat on his shoulder, ready to provide him instantly with any information he might need, even though he had already been extensively briefed about each Mirror by Master Subadar, a briefing that allowed him to avoid demonstrating any surprise at the appearance of the members of his Council, and also left him able to greet each by name and with the ritual formal compliment.

"Lady Dehandar of Yrcadia," he began, "may the herds thrive forever in the Highlands of Arkanth."

The dark-skinned Noble Lady with the ochre Marks inclined her head and gave the ritual answer: "May Your Highness forever protect our R'hinz."

"Lord Wahaï of Yaï Ho," continued Julien to the next Mirror, "do the Travellers run freely? Do the Poets sing fearlessly?"

The Guide with the bright red fur bowed gracefully, and his human assistant laid his hand on his neck and declared, "It will be so as long as Yulmir's benevolent gaze is directed upon us."

"Lady Tahaxlaïl of Kretzlal, may your enemies tremble and your friends sleep in peace."

The blue and green haptir also spoke through a human interpreter: "Fear, enemies of our Emperor!"

"First Mother of Emm Talak, may the brood remain safe and the reserves plentiful."

This Mirror had a vaguely insectoid appearance, although Julien had never seen anything even remotely like her. She was enclosed in a kind of mechanical airtight box, and it was equipped with a voice synthesizer.

"The race of the Butchenns thrives amid the ruins," it said, "and begs Yulmir to ensure that none shall interfere."

"Lord Yinn Yeliann of Tandil, may your song forever cause the sun to rise."

The vril bird spread his immense electric-blue wings and uttered a crystal-clear trill, which his assistant instantly translated as "May Yulmir's speech sing peace and justice to all."

"Lady Wi Talatt of Zenn R'aal, may the eternal union of ice and fire forever rejoice your heart."

The frail white-haired lady gave a gentle smile.

"May Eternal Youth bless us forever with the presence of Yulmir," she said.

"Lord Shigyal of Der Mang, may the blood of your mounts never decline."

"May our mounts," replied the stern rider with the blue Marks, "forever rejoice in the privilege of bearing our Emperor."

"Lord Aldegard of Nüngen, may the Towers of Aleth for ever glow at sunset."

"May Yulmir at times honour them with his presence."

"Very well," said Julien. "Honourable Members of the Council, we are here to welcome and accredit a new Mirror for Dvârinn. In accordance with Tradition I have taken no part in his selection, and indeed in this matter I have the authority only to use my veto to oppose the candidate, should I deem it necessary. I ask that the chosen of the Council should now be introduced."

Lord Shigyal stood up, stepped into the centre of the circle and faced Julien.

"I am sure that Your Highness is aware that the Noble Lord Nandak, First Lord of the Ksantiris, has declined the office. He begs the Council not to take offence at this refusal and swears that it is simply a recognition of his own inadequacy for such a task that compels him to cast this burden onto a more worthy bearer. The Council has therefore needed to undertake the delicate task of finding another candidate."

Julien nodded.

"After a long discussion," Lord Shigyal continued, "the Council came to the conclusion that none of the Major First Lords of the Great Houses of Dvârinn is truly suitable. Basically, only three of the fifteen who could genuinely make a claim to represent Your Highness on Dvârinn have the necessary wisdom and authority, and all three are by now too old to be able to perform the requirements of the post efficiently. Furthermore, in none of the three cases would it appear that their closest descendants have inherited their most important qualities.

"However, the Council is mindful of the need to appoint a Mirror for Dvârinn as speedily as possible, and therefore we would suggest that you choose the Noble Lord Tahlil of the Rent'haliks and provide him with whatever he may need in order to fulfil his office. Perhaps the Imperial Treasury would be able to pay for the construction of a suitable First Trankenn for him, and also to pay for its crew, while the budget for the administration and other services could be divided among all the Noble Houses of Dvârinn."

"Of course the Imperial Treasury can supply whatever is needed," said Julien, "but the idea of imposing a tax of the other Noble Families – particularly those that will see him as an upstart and mere favourite of the Emperor – doesn't seem to be a very good way of ensuring Lord Tahlil's popularity. The last thing we want is a conflict that would only be likely to escalate. I think it would be better if the Imperial Treasury were to foot the whole bill until such time as House Rent'halik can generate new income sources of its own."

In fact this solution had just been given to Julien by Xarax, who could remember a number of precedents, most of which were almost certainly known to the other Mirrors. But by uttering the proposal himself – a proposal obviously drawn from those earlier cases – Julien clearly demonstrated to the Council that just because he looked like a child they needn't think they could treat him as one.

"Of course," he went on, just to rub the lesson in, "this would probably require a small contribution from each of the other worlds as well, but I feel sure that for the good of the R'hinz we will be able to agree on that quickly. What is the opinion of the Council?"

It took the Council less than ten minutes to agree on the candidature of Lord Tahlil under the conditions Julien had suggested, and at that point Lord Tahlil was brought into the chamber. He was around forty, with golden-brown Marks adorning the salt-tanned face of a sailor.

"Noble Lord," said Julien, "I haven't yet had the honour of meeting you, but the recommendation of this Council is sufficient to make me trust you. I'm sure you will do your best to be a worthy successor to Lord Ylavan. So now I have to ask: do you, Tahlil of the Rent'haliks, wish to become the Mirror of the Emperor on Dvârinn?"

Tahlil began to kneel, but Julien stopped him.

"Please remain standing and hear me out," he said. "The Ritual, which I'm sure you know as well as anyone here, consists of a number of questions and answers. Well, I don't have anything against a good ritual, and the Great Book of Traditions is certainly an excellent guide. But on this occasion I would prefer, if the Council will allow it, to dispense with the normal procedure and the traditional oaths."

Julien looked around the circle, but nobody seemed inclined to object.

"Right, then: Tahlil, do you want to be my Mirror?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You might find the job rather more difficult and dangerous than people might expect. In fact you're putting your life, and possibly those of your family, at risk here. Would you like to tell us why you would volunteer for such a mission?"

"I've given it a lot of thought, Your Highness. I don't have Lord Ylavan's power, or his money or influence. If the Council was reduced to sending its emissary to my distant island it can only be because nobody else could or would take the job. The rumours about Ylavan's death might not have any basis in fact, but the fact that such rumours exist at all clearly prevents his heir from becoming a Mirror of the Emperor. However, that doesn't mean that he turned the job down willingly, or that he might not change his mind about it in future. Furthermore, he has a number of allies who, while happy that they can still receive his favour as First Lord of the Ksantiris, will nonetheless be disappointed that they can't now count on the far greater influence he would have had as Mirror.

"So if I'd been sitting where the Council are I would have gone looking for the head of a House that is insignificant enough not to offend anyone – provided, of course, that the man in question was honest and moderately intelligent. It would also help if he had several heirs, which would offer continuity if he turns out to do the job well. And most important of all, if he should be assassinated it should be someone whose death will not immediately stir up serious strife and retribution amongst the major Houses.

"I happen to fulfil some of those requirements. It is also the case that the people who are under my protection trust me, and I try to be worthy of that trust. To refuse to serve, for the good of Dvârinn, in a post of which the Council judges me worthy would seem to be a breach of that trust. My people trust me, and I trust the Council, simply because Lord Ylavan, who sat on that Council, was an honest and trustworthy man.

"As for you, Your Highness, there's a saying that 'You don't know a man until you have shared a bag of salt with him.' Well, I haven't yet had a chance to share salt with you, but until such time as that happens I can only assure you of my complete dedication to the Empire, and to the duty of honour which compels me to put my body and my life between the Emperor and his enemies."

"Lord Tahlil," replied Julien, "I could ask for nothing more, and as far as I'm concerned your assurance is worth any number of formal oaths. If the Council agrees I would now like to welcome you into it, and I would ask you to take the seat left empty by the death of Lord Ylavan."

Niil and Ambar had been warned that Julien was on his way back and that the new Mirror would be with him, and so when he arrived they were impeccably turned out in a pair of fetching Ksantiri hatiks. In fact they looked so presentable that Julien had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from actually congratulating them on their appearance. Of course Tannder had been the one who had made the necessary arrangements, and so there was also a large collection of food and drink on the table – because Julien had taken Lord Tahlil at his word and had invited him to share salt with him.

After the two boys had been introduced ("This is Niil of the Ksantiris, my Privy Councillor, and his brother Ambar, who is also my pupil") and Tahlil had offered them his condolences on the death of their father, Ambar offered their guest – who was clearly not used to the warm weather of Nüngen and was flagging a bit – a large tankard of chilled beer, and while he was doing that Julien sent for Tannder and asked him to join them.

"Tahlil," said Julien, "in a moment Tannder is going to tell you an interesting story, one which directly concerns me. After all, if we're going to be working together it's probably only fair that you know exactly what is going on. If you still want to stay on the Council once you've heard it, I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have. But first I'd like to hear a bit about you and your family – oh, and if you can do it without using the High Speech, that would be nice. We try to avoid using it when we're in private. People generally just call me Julien, or if you absolutely can't bring yourself to do that, I suppose 'My Lord' is just about bearable."

"Well, there's not a lot to tell you, My Lord. The Rent'haliks rule a small archipelago of eight islands. Our resources are adequate, and in fact we are able to export part of our balang crop. We have a few good armourers, and our potters are famous throughout the Nine Worlds – indeed, I can see that there's a Tsang Niyeh fruit-bowl here on your table.

"Lady Wang Tcho, my wife, has given me two sons and three daughters. My eldest son, Tengtehal, will soon be fifteen cycles old and his tutor says that he's a good student. Our family trankenn cannot in any way be considered comparable to that of the late Lord Ylavan, but it gives a good account of itself in all weathers. Lord Aldegard tells me that you're intending to build me a new First Trankenn with funds drawn from the Imperial Treasury, and obviously I'm very grateful for the gesture – but perhaps that money should be used where it is more urgently needed."

"Such as?"

"A lot of small islands are too poor to offer much in the way of support to the widows of those who perish at sea. That also happens in some of the more far-flung possessions of some of the Great Houses. There are some welfare societies, but often they are unable to meet the need. And another issue is that some of the smaller islands don't have the resources to pay a proper wage to teachers and minor Health Masters, and as a result several islands, and even some complete archipelagos, have neither."

"Well, it's impossible for you not to have a trankenn that reflects your rank of Mirror. But I can make you a proposal: investigate this problem in detail, decide what needs to be done to resolve it, and I promise I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Actually the solution isn't that complicated. I think that a well-run merchant shipping company could probably generate enough funds, and it wouldn't have to be too big, either. The main obstacle would be the amount – probably a quite considerable amount – that would need to be laid out in order to get such a company up and running."

"I might be able to help you there, too. It's true that the Emperor isn't supposed to interfere in the politics of any of the Nine Worlds, but I don't think it's forbidden for him to offer a helping hand when one is needed."

"Well, if I absolutely have to have a new trankenn, perhaps I could convert my existing ship into a flagship for a new merchant fleet. It probably wouldn't be too difficult, and if you're going to pay for the new First Trankenn it seems only fair, too."

"That's an excellent idea. But tell me: if you're aware of this problem, how is it that Lord Ylavan didn't do something about it?"

Tahlil remained silent for a few seconds while he weighed his words.

"Well," he said, "it would seem that Lord Ylavan had some difficulty in receiving your advice – over quite a long period, in fact."

"You probably mean that he wasn't able to meet me?"

"That's what the rumour said, My Lord."

"The rumour was true. But Ylavan didn't need my blessing to at least start tackling the problem."

"Ah… you see, over the last few years at least, I don't think Lord Ylavan was getting all the information he should have been. I don't want to offend Lord Niil, but I'm afraid his Noble Brother rather tended to interfere with the way the Ksantiri lands were run, and the word is that quite a lot of the Family revenue was diverted into preparing for war."

"If you're suggesting that my brother had dreams of launching a war of conquest," Niil told him, "I'm afraid you're right. But I expect he'll go a bit quiet now, in the short term at least. And I want you to know that I am completely opposed to his plans."

"I don't doubt that for a moment, Lord Niil. I'm sure you wouldn't be sitting here at this table today otherwise."

"I think," said Julien, "that maybe this would be a good time for Tannder to explain to you just why Ylavan was unable to reach the Emperor. And after that you can relax a bit and enjoy the Bakhtars' marvellous cooking."

"Fancy a short holiday?" asked Julien.

Now that their guest had departed the three boys were finally alone. Julien's suggestion was unexpected, but Ambar certainly thought it was a good idea.

"I'll have to ask Tannder," he said, "but if you're the one suggesting it I don't reckon he'll be able to say no."

"Count me in too," said Niil. "But I'd like an idea of what's behind this."

"Don't you want to see something of the world?" asked Julien.

"All right, I'm definitely in. I'll get them to sort us out some hiking equipment, and I suppose I'd better send for Aïn, too."

Julien laughed. "You've guessed," he said.

"Well, it's the height of the stormy season in the northern hemisphere, so we're certainly not going for a sail on your boat. I think we're off to collect some of the treasure that your old friend the Neh-kyong is looking after. Spring might be on the way, but I bet it's still pretty cold around Tchenn Ril. I suppose we'll need a cart to bring the treasure back in, too – or were you expecting to pick one up in Kardenang?"

"Yes," said Julien. "I would have simply left everything to Tannder, but I don't think Tchenn Ril would let anyone into the place if I wasn't there. And I thought that since I'm going to have to go in person – at least if I want to be able to give some money to Tahlil without digging into the Imperial Treasury, which I still don't know anything about – I thought it might be fun to ask you two to come with me and make a little holiday of it. We can ask Karik to come with us if you like."

"When do we leave?" asked Ambar.

"If we can get everything ready in time, the day after tomorrow. That'll also give me time to hide my Marks."

"What?!" Both Ksantiris stared at him in disbelief.

"Surely you don't expect me to turn up in Kardenang wearing the Imperial Marks? We wouldn't get a moment's peace and I'd have people grovelling in front of me wherever I went."

"But… look… I mean, we're talking about Marks here!" exclaimed Niil, sounding both indignant and disbelieving. "You can't remove them – they're there for life, unless your House is declared extinct, of course, or you marry into a different family!"

"That's normally true," agreed Julien. "But Yulmir didn't spend his entire life stuck in the Palace. He wanted to be able to go wherever he wanted without being recognised, and so his Marks – and therefore mine – can be revealed or concealed whenever I want. The Master of Traditions explained it to me, but I haven't actually tried it yet and I think I'll need to go and see him again so that he can help me to do it, at least for the first time."

***

Because his klirk was still fixed to the deck of the Isabelle Aïn was able to go first and make sure that the boat was indeed moored in Kardenang. He was lucky enough to find Tenntchouk on board – the sailor was busy with one of the innumerable little maintenance jobs which have to be done on a sailing boat. They agreed to wait another couple of hours in order for the rest of the party to make the journey after sunset, and that would also give Tenntchouk time to warn Mistress Nardik that she was going to have guests. In fact the inn was completely empty at this time of year: it catered almost exclusively to sailors breaking their journeys in Kardenang, and during the stormy season hardly any ships ever left harbour.

Once the four boys and Xarax were safely aboard the boat Aïn said goodbye and left them, telling them that he would return in five days' time and then every day after that in order to find out what was happening and take the travellers back to Nüngen when they were ready to leave.

Julien introduced his friends to Tenntchouk and Gradik and then went on his own to the inn.

"Anhel!" Dillik rushed towards him as soon as he set foot inside the inn. "Gradik said you would come back, but he didn't know when! I suppose you know that him and Tenntchouk have got a boat now, and…"

"Dillik," interrupted Mistress Nardik, "give Master Anhel a chance to breathe! Go and fetch him some södja. We're glad to see you again, young Master. Dillik didn't stop crying for a whole day after you left."

"I was sorry to leave him, too," said Julien. "He's a really nice boy. You can be proud of him."

"You can tell his father that shortly – he's at home for the stormy season. Ah, here he is now. I suppose Dillik wanted him to meet you."

"Hello, Master Anhel," said the newcomer. "My name is Dendjor, and I'm lucky enough to be married to this wonderful woman. She never stops talking about you, you know."

"Master mariner, your wife is far too kind. Really I'm in her debt for looking after me the way she did. Dillik tells me that you're captain of a large merchant trankenn, is that right?"

"That's true. It means my wife doesn't have to put up with me being under her feet all the time."

"I've brought some friends with me. They'll be here in a minute."

Dillik cam back with the södja, which was an aromatic herbal infusion rather like a strong, scented tea, which was traditionally drunk scalding hot, and Julien had barely started drinking it when his friends arrived, along with Tenntchouk and Gradik, who now had a room here all year round.

"Honourable Hosts," said Julien, "may I present the Noble Lord Niil of the Ksantiris; his brother, the Noble Son Ambar; and the Honourable Karik shel Tannder."

Having been introduced as 'Noble Lord', Niil decided to try to avoid the usual problem of rank.

"Honourable Hosts," he said, "we're here by invitation of the Honourable Ju… young Master Anhel, whom we are proud to count among our closest friends. We'd really like you to treat us no differently from the way you've treated him, and that means that we can manage very nicely without you using the High Speech. And now we're very keen to try some of the cooking which Anhel keeps raving about."

Dendjor bowed. "As you wish," he said. "But first I'd like it if we could join you in a glass to the memory of your late Father, who will be sorely missed. Everyone loved him, and I once had the honour of serving briefly as second pilot on the First Trankenn. He was a good man."

The unexpected reminder of his father's death and the sailor's spontaneous homage to him brought a tear to Niil's eye, and he nodded silently as Dendjor produced a carafe of ratchouk and a small glass for everyone.

"May Ylavan sail for ever among the Blessed Isles!" he declared.

"For ever!" they all replied, emptying their glasses.

***

The meal was every bit as good as Julien had claimed, and Mistress Nardik blushed prettily when Niil called her over at the end of the meal to congratulate her. The dishes had been served by Dillik and his sister, and the little girl even managed to give Julien a quick kiss as she thanked him once more for her doll. But apart from that one moment Dillik guarded Julien jealously, making sure that nobody else filled his glass or changed his plate. As the meal was drawing to an end he managed to get close enough to Julien to whisper in his ear.

"Can I come and sleep with you again tonight?" he asked. "Mum said it would be all right."

Julien had been expecting this question since his arrival, and he had his answer prepared.

"You need to ask the Noble Son Ambar," he said. "Normally he and I sleep together. But maybe if you ask him nicely we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement."

It was a mark of how important this was to him that Dillik barely hesitated before turning to Ambar, who was sitting on Julien's right.

"Noble Lord," he said quietly, "the Honourable Young Master says that I have to ask you for permission to sleep with him tonight."

Ambar managed to keep a straight face.

"Really?" he said. "Well, first there's something I want to know."

"Yes, Noble Lord?"

"Is the bed big enough for three of us?"

Dillik gaped at him, and Ambar smiled.

"I don't mind at all if you spend the night with Anhel – just as long as I can be there too. I don't mind sharing him, but I really don't sleep very well when he's not there with me. So, is it all right if I'm there too?"

Nobody could resist one of Ambar's smiles.

"Of course," said Dillik, relaxing. "I wouldn't want to keep you from his company. And I can understand it, too, because you get really good dreams when you share a bed with him."

"That's true," agreed Ambar. "We'll see you later, then."

***

As Niil was – at least as far as Mistress Nardik was aware – the most important person in the party, he got the best kang in the house, the one that Julien had used on his previous stay. However, the one shared by Julien and his two sleeping-partners was also very comfortable, and the bed was wide enough to accommodate them easily. Of course they also had the use of the family's private bathroom, and by now Julien had got completely used to the entertainment that usually went on while baths were being taken and didn't worry about it at all any longer. Which was just as well, because Dillik was fascinated by Ambar's silver Marks and was conducting an exhaustive, and rather ticklish, exploration of them.

"I like your Marks," he said. "And I can see that they go absolutely everywhere on you. Have you had them since you were born?"

"No," said Ambar. "Actually I haven't had them that long at all. Niil's the one who made me a Ksantiri, and I got my Marks off him as well."

"You mean you can actually get them transferred? So you didn't start out as a noble?"

"Dillik," interrupted Julien, "there's a lot of stuff you don't understand yet. Trust me, Ambar isn't just some nobody."

"That's not what I meant at all!"

"Good."

"You two are friends, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I mean real, proper friends?"

"Yes."

"And you really don't mind me sleeping with you?"

Julien glanced at Ambar, who was smiling. It was interesting to hear Dillik getting closer to saying openly what had so far been merely implicit.

"Of course not," he said. "I like you, and I'm pretty sure Ambar likes you too. You can be friends with both of us, if you want."

"It's not the same."

"No, but it's nearly as good – at least until you meet your own 'real, proper' friend."

"Do you think that'll happen?"

"I'm sure it will."

"And… do you think it's possible to have a proper friend who… well, who isn't a boy?"

"A girl, you mean?"

"No!"

"A man, then?"

"No, not that either. Someone who isn't a man, or a woman, or anything."

"You mean someone who isn't human?"

Dillik nodded.

"I get it!" exclaimed Ambar. "I know what he means. He like to have a haptir as a friend, like the boy in that story you told him – you know, about the boy who made kites. That's it, isn't it, Dillik?"

The boy lowered his head and blushed. Julien found this apparent confusion and embarrassment rather strange in someone who three minutes earlier had been handling Ambar's most delicate parts with no sign of bashfulness at all. He tried to find an honest answer for him.

"I suppose it's possible. But haptirs hardly ever leave Kretzlal, you know, so it's pretty unlikely that you'll ever get to meet one.. And even if you did meet one, you'd be very lucky indeed if he didn't kill you straight away. Why do you want a haptir as your friend?"

"I don't know. I suppose it's that dream – see, it wasn't just that I was flying. I really was a haptir. And… promise you won't laugh?"

"We won't, I promise."

"Well…"

His brow furrowed as he tried to put what he had been feeling into words.

"At the same time it was like the haptir was someone else – someone I had never met before but who I knew… well… no, that's not really it. I didn't actually know him, but… see, the haptir in my dream… he was sort of like a brother. More than a brother. And since then I can't stop thinking about it. Every night when I go to sleep I make a wish that I can dream about him again, but it's never happened."

"Have you told your parents about it?" asked Julien.

"Well, I told them about the dream, obviously. But I haven't told them anything else. I don't think they'd understand. But I think you do – don't you?"

"Yes, I think I do."

"So do you think I could go to visit the haptirs when I'm older? I know they don't travel, but maybe a Noble Lord could take me with him one day…"

He looked hopefully at Ambar.

"Not even a Noble Lord like Ambar can go swanning about on Kretzlal whenever he feels like it," said Julien. "I'm afraid that for the time being you'll just have to settle for us. And now maybe Ambar will take you for a pee before we go to sleep. I'm sure you'll find that experience interesting."

***

"Xarax," said Julien quietly.

In the soft glow of the night-light the haptir emerged from under the bed and and settled onto the pillow next to Julien's head. On his left Julien could hear the regular and strangely uniform breathing of Ambar and Dillik as they slept in each other's arms.

What did you do to Dillik?

Xarax did not 'do' anything to Dillik. Apparently something just happened.

Can you try to explain?

A bond has formed between the boy and Xarax. Xarax was careless when he allowed him to live the memory of flying above the Palace. Xarax relived it with him and it made Xarax happy.

Surely there's nothing wrong with that?

But Xarax was not only happy, he was also happy for Dillik's happiness. And what Dillik said, it's true for me too.

I don't understand.

What Dillik felt for me, I felt for him. I thought that it would go away, but Xarax still wants more than anything to be one with Dillik.

Julian frowned: until now Xarax had only ever spoken of himself in the third person. Now suddenly he was saying 'I' and 'me'.

You mean…?

Xarax means that I love Dillik! And I can do nothing about it. I could erase the child's memories. I could make him forget about me and not love me any more. But I don't want to do that! And I am unhappy. Maybe Julien believes that Xarax is just a slave of the Emperor, an extension of his powers, a deadly weapon always at hand to protect him. But Xarax is beginning to realise that… I'm just realising that I exist in another way too, and that the long interaction with humans has changed something – many things – about us in a very deep way. I have been contaminated by humans, I think. And even if that seems ridiculous, I don't think I'm sorry about it at all.

Julian was almost as troubled by Xarax's grammatical inconsistencies as by the very nature of what he was saying, but he decided not to comment on it.

Xarax – my friend – it isn't ridiculous. Actually I believe that what is happening to you is something very beautiful. And I've never seen you as a slave, either, or as a mere bodyguard. But we're going to have to find a solution. We can't simply leave Dillik chasing a dream for the rest of his life – and I don't want you to be unhappy, either. You should have told me before. I'm your friend, remember? Even if it isn't in quite the same way.

Xarax did not want Julien to think that he has become weak.

It's not weakness On the contrary, I think it can make you better, and stronger, too. So now we have to decide what we're going to do.

***

After breakfast Julien went to ask Mistress Nardik for a favour.

"I know Dillik is supposed to go to school this morning," he said, "but do you think he could come for a walk with me and Lord Ambar instead?"

"Young Master," she said, "I can never say no to you when you smile like that. And besides, if the Noble Son Ambar of the Ksantiris commands it, who am I to refuse him?"

Half an hour later they reached the place where Dillik had flown his 'magic' kite. At the foot of the slope was the small harbour, which was well protected against the swell that was heralding the arrival of yet another storm.

"Dillik," said Julien as they admired the view, "do you still want to meet a haptir?"

"Of course I do!"

"Well, you're in luck, because there's one visiting Dvârinn right now."

Dillik stared at him.

"Are you pulling my leg?" he asked.

"Do you think I'd do that?"

"Well, no, not really."

"All right then. You see, there really is a haptir on Dvârinn right now. The problem is that it's no ordinary haptir. It's the Emperor's Haptir."

"The Emperor's got a haptir?"

"Yes. Well, when you say 'got' – it's not like he owns him like a pet. The haptir is a friend and councillor to the Emperor."

"Now you're definitely having me on!"

"I'm not! Just think for a moment: who am I? And would I do something that nasty to you?"

"No!"

"Well, then?"

"Well… then it must be true!"

"Good! So it's the Emperor's Haptir and he's travelling in secret. He's agreed to meet you because you love haptirs so much. But you mustn't tell anyone!"

"You mean, you actually spoke to him? You, yourself?"

"Yes."

"You actually know a haptir?"

"That's not so strange. You'll know one yourself pretty soon."

"But why didn't you say so before?"

His tone of reproach would have melted a heart of stone.

"I couldn't say anything, for the same reason that you won't be able to tell anyone either: it's a secret. A real, proper secret."

"All right. I understand."

"If you meet him you can never talk about it, understand? Not unless you get the haptir's permission. Or the Emperor's."

"Does the Emperor know I'm going to meet his haptir?"

"Yes."

"How can he? I mean, it's impossible – isn't it?"

"That's another story. All that matters right now is that you agree. You simply can't go boasting to your school-friends about it, or even to your parents or your sister. Think before you answer: this isn't a game, Dillik. If you agree to keep the secret, he'll help you. He could even prevent you from talking about it if he wanted to, but he doesn't want to do anything like that. So… ?"

"But I'll still be able to talk to you and Ambar about it?"

"Yes, you will."

"Then I want to meet him. I swear I'll…"

"He isn't interested in oaths, Dillik. He just wants you not to say anything, ever."

"I'll really try. So when do I get to meet him?"

"Straight away. Just call him. His name's Xarax."

"The same as my kite! I bet that's why you wanted me to call it that."

"Exactly. Go on, give him a call."

"Xarax!"

Humming like a gigantic hornet Xarax swooped down on them: he'd been hiding until now in the glare of the sun. At the last possible moment – by which point even Julien was thinking he was going to crash into them – he slowed down and hovered like a dragonfly, allowing them to admire his colour-scheme, which was a hundred times brighter than that of the silk kite which had been named in his honour. Then he settled lightly onto Julien's shoulder.

"Dillik," said Julien, "allow me to present the Honourable Xarax, Haptir and Friend of the Emperor."

The boy's jaw was almost on the ground and his eyes seemed on the point of popping out of his head. It took him a good ten seconds to pull himself together enough to answer.

"Honourable Xarax," he said, "thank you for coming."

"Xarax says that he's very happy to meet you," said Julien. "But he also says that it would be easier for you to talk to each other if you don't mind him sitting on your shoulder."

"Of course. Tell him he's welcome."

Dillik had spoken even though he was looking at the haptir's scary ruby-red eyes at the time. Xarax made the short jump across to the boy and settled into his usual posture with his long tail curled around Dillik's neck. A few seconds later the boy's face lit up with an enormous smile.

"It's him!" he exclaimed. "It's my friend! It's the haptir in my dream!"

"It's a small world, isn't it?" observed Julien. "Anyway, Ambar and I are going to take a walk for a bit. I'm sure that you two have plenty to talk about."

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