Tom skidded to a halt behind her as she stared at her patron, and nudged her in the side. She inhaled sharply and glared at him sidelong, dropping into the appropriate obeisance.

"My Lord," she said, not sure what to make of his odd, self-deprecating greeting.

"Alyn Vanyasdotter. Thank you Tom, that was very quick."

"Milord," said Tom, and Alyn knew from his tone that he was grinning. He poked her in the side as revenge for her glare as he turned to leave.

"Alyn. I'm sorry to drag you away from your studies, but I have need of your help."

"Yes, my lord," said Alyn, hoping that was what he was expecting. What was he going to say? Most first year pages didn't do much in the way of service; their main duty was to learn. Once they had learnt from their patrons, but more and more often they were taught in groups by one lord. Alyn's father had complained about the changes, but Alyn didn't think it made a difference who taught her all the boring stuff. She had expected to wait at least a year before doing anything more than wine service for her lord, not that she'd even done that yet. She glanced up at him; he was looking distracted, busy.

"We have to go to the Fifth Star Court," he said. "I will need you in attendance - I'm sorry, will that be all right? I know this is very early, but -"

In attendance at the Fifth Star Court? "Yes, my lord," she hurried to push in. "I swore I would serve you at the induction." Which you weren't at, she thought. He looked abruptly guilty, as though she had said it out loud.

"Yes, you did, didn't you? I'm sorry I have neglected you," he said, looking directly at her for the first time. "Oh, get up, please. You've been down there long enough for five lords, and you're making my knees hurt."

Alyn stood up, feeling a bit disgruntled. He was hardly acting like a proper lord. Miraina's patron, Lord Evernar, was propriety itself, all dressed in velvet with a rich, important voice. She hadn't had a choice of patron, of course, but she still didn't want to end up with some weird... eccentric.

"Please pack," her lord went on. "For yourself, of course, and for me. I have some business to attend to and we must leave as soon as possible. My room is on the second floor; ask Anitia to tell you which one it is. Then bring the chests to the coach yard and wait for me there."

Anitia the maid? He knew her by name? Alyn shook her head, confused, then hastily nodded. "Yes, my lord," she said, and turned to hurry up the stairs. She paused at the top to look down, but he was already gone. She wondered what it was that he'd had to see to.

Miervaldis' rooms were at one end of the long corridor on the second floor of the first hall. She had gone there during her first week, hoping to catch a glimpse of her absent patron. She hurried along the richly carpeted halls, making a mental list of the things a lord might want. Clothes - but what to choose? He was hardly conventional, if what he had been wearing just now was any indication of his taste. Cleaning things? What was she going to bring?

The room was open, and she paused in the doorway. Anitia stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. She heard Alyn's footsteps and turned with a smile.

"He said he'd send you up. I've got most of his things ready here," she said, and gestured to the big, shabby couch that occupied most of the living room. Alyn blinked at it, then looked back to the maid, wondering why she seemed to know so much more of what was going on.

"How did you know what to put in?" Alyn asked. Anitia winked.

"There's not much else to pack," she said, and pulled open the door of the enormous, ornate wardrobe standing by the couch. It was all but empty. Alyn looked from it to the small pile of neatly folded clothes on the couch, confused.

"Aren't lords supposed to have more clothes?"

Anitia laughed. "You'd think so," she said. "But at least it makes our jobs easier. I have to go, I'm supposed to be helping prepare for lunch. Will you be all right here?"

"Oh - yes, of course. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Enjoy your trip," and Anitia hurried from the room, leaving Alyn to realise she didn't even know where her patron's luggage might be.

In the end, she located two dusty clothes chests and piled the clothes inside. She had found Miervaldis' rooms bare of almost anything of interest. The chests had been stuffed under a window seat in the small dining room, which also contained a battered table and a single chair, a lamp and a faded picture of an unfamiliar man and woman. The main living room held only the couch and wardrobe, and a tatty rug. The privy room had a few personal effects which she put on top of the clothes in one of the chests. The tiny bedroom off the dining room barely contained the bed. The last room was locked, so she couldn't see inside. Peeking through the keyhole afforded her the view of a desk, but nothing else. It would make sense for it to be a study, but why was it locked? She straightened up, frowning. What else should she pack?

"May I come in?"

She spun round, shocked, and hurried to the living room. The voice had come from a man standing just outside the door to the corridor. So he can't have seen me at the keyhole, surely? He was not someone she recognised, slim, not tall, neatly dressed in dull, dark colours. She nodded mutely, and as he came into the room, she noticed an odd scent about him. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but for some reason it made her uneasy.

"Alyn, am I right?"

"Yes..." She left off the 'sir', uncertain of his status.

"I have a task for you. The eminent Lord Miervaldis is going to the Fifth Star Court, is he not?"

Alyn gaped. He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice.

"When you made your oath, Alyn, to whom did you first swear?"

Caught off guard, she answered automatically.

"The Emperor."

"And then?"

"Lord Miervaldis."

"Ah," and he smiled, which didn't help. "Then you will understand, your loyalty is first to the Emperor."

"Yes..."

"When you go with your patron, please be alert to what he may do. A report will be required in the event of anything... untoward."

"Untoward?" What?

"You understand, I'm sure." He leaned towards her, and she flinched back. "Have a safe journey, Alyn."

"Th - thank you."

He left the room, walking as silently across the threadbare rug as on the rich carpet of the corridor. Alyn stared after him, confused, a little frightened, but most of all, desperately curious.