Within the hour they had reached the first junction and the horses had been swiftly changed. Alyn watched the fields whisk by, punctuated by tracts of forest and the occasional bridge. The longest bridge was the one with seven arches that reached over the mighty river Voront. She watched a barge on the Voront being pulled slowly upstream by two heavy horses, patiently plodding up the towpath tugging their burden against the gentle, insistent current. The sun reached its zenith and began to descend. Miervaldis read his book.

Much later, it seemed, they came to the second junction, to turn onto the radial road south-east to the Fifth Star Court. Here they stopped for a bit longer; Miervaldis spoke to the men in charge of the way station and they brought out bread and cheese for him and for Alyn, who had not even realised she was hungry until she saw the food. She ate it so quickly she nearly choked, and they gave her ice cold water to wash it down with. When she had recovered from her subsequent coughing fit and the fresh horses were harnessed, they started again up the road to Fifth Star Court.

The sun sank towards the horizon, beginning to colour the western sky behind them a pale pink shading to deep gold. Alyn stared out of the window still, although the views were very similar to the countryside around the Fourth Star Court. The trees now cast long shadows on the road, and rooks whirled around their tops, cawing loudly as the coach rattled by underneath. The coachman never spoke a word, and Miervaldis read until the light grew too dim, then laid his book aside and shut his eyes. Alyn sat back against the soft cushions but kept looking out of the window, waiting for her first glimpse of the Fifth Star Court.

For all her good intentions, she woke when the coach finally came to a stop in the coachyard. She pushed up from the seat and stared outside. The sun had mostly sunk; tendrils of light-touched clouds still traced the horizon, but it was otherwise dark. The coachyard, however, blazed with light; lanterns were arranged everywhere. Above it, the bulk of Fifth Star Court loomed into the sky, squat and angular to her eyes where Fourth Star Court was gracious and elegant. Hundreds of lit windows dotted its walls, making its size very clear; it was at least twice as big as Fourth Star Court, and she thought there must be more beyond what she could see.

The coachman jumped down from his seat - she heard his boots hit the cobbles - and spoke to the grooms who came running out to meet them, carrying yet more lanterns. Across from her, Miervaldis opened his eyes and sat up, stretching carefully. The door opened, and a well-dressed man stuck his head in.

"Welcome, my lord," he said briskly. "If you will come this way? I will take you to the chamberlain."

Miervaldis climbed out of the carriage, and Alyn moved to follow him, becoming uncomfortably aware that she desperately needed to relieve herself. She bit her lip and held on, following silently behind her lord and the steward who was leading the way into the house. Behind her, an army of grooms came to deal with the weary horses, and porters followed to take the chests from the coach.

The steward led the way into a wide, well-lit hall with an ornately tiled floor and narrow, gracious columns lining the walls. At the other end, two staircases ran up to a common landing, with double doors leading to the next room. A plump, prosperous-looking man dressed in a long dark robe and bearing a staff of office was descending the right hand staircase. The steward murmured something to Miervaldis, who nodded. The plump man came to meet them, eyes moving rapidly from Alyn to her lord and back again. Alyn tried not to cross her legs.

"Lord Miervaldis," the man said. "I am Emilio Otakar, the chamberlain of this court. Be welcome here."

"Thank you," said Miervaldis. "This is Alyn Vanyasdotter, my page. She will be attending me."

The chamberlain looked at Alyn again. She met his gaze and saw worry lines on his brow, and a tic near his eye.

"Be welcome," he said to her, and she dipped in the appropriate courtesy.

"Thank you, Chamberlain," she said, wondering when it would be polite to ask about the privies. There was a pause as Miervaldis and the chamberlain looked at each other, then the shorter man nodded to himself and turned.

"If you'll come this way, please, my lord," he said. "I'll show you to your rooms. And then, if I might beg your indulgence...."

"The Emperor asked me to come," Miervaldis said quietly. "Whatever is necessary, please don't hesitate." Alyn sucked in her breath. She'd thought, from the coach, that the summons might have come from the Sun Court, but to hear it confirmed - and not just the Sun Court , the Emperor himself - was still a shock. The chamberlain flinched a little, then nodded and walked forward without saying anything.

The rooms they were led to were luxurious and well positioned, facing south. Tall windows would let the sun in during the day, and plenty of lamps kept them bright at night. Their chests were already there, looking a bit lonely and somewhat shabby on the thick, bright rug in the middle of the floor. There was the main sitting room, a study, a wash room and two bedrooms, one much like a closet for Alyn, and one almost the same size as the sitting room, with its own fireplace and a large, four-poster bed. Thankfully, the chamberlain left them there to clean up after the journey; as soon as he had left, Alyn bolted for the privies at the end of the corridor.

A short while later, relieved, refreshed and feeling hungry, she followed the chamberlain and her lord to a small room two floors down. The court was enormous and labyrinthine; by the time they reached their destination she had the horrible feeling she'd never find her way back on her own. The room was plain but still rich, and when she sat in the chair Miervaldis gestured her to, she sank into soft cushions which all but encouraged her to sleep. The chamberlain sat, but on the edge of his chair. His worried look had deepened. He didn't speak.

"Please," Lord Miervaldis said eventually, "tell me what the problem is." The chamberlain winced and looked down, then back up again. Alyn held her breath.

"I need your help, my lord," he said. "Lord Cassian needs your help."

"Lord Cassian?" Miervaldis frowned slightly. "I don't think I know him."

"No, probably you would not," agreed the chamberlain.

"So... how can I help him? And you?" Miervaldis pressed, after a further silence.

"I am hoping you can help clear his name."

"Clear his name of?" Alyn heard frustration in her lord's voice, not quite masked. The chamberlain looked away and back again.

"Of murder, my lord."