Miervaldis didn't get his lie-in. Alyn didn't hear the quiet knock, or the key in the door, but she woke up when the maid put the breakfast tray on the table with a slight clatter. She lay still, waiting to hear the door closing again, but it never came. Instead, after just long enough for her to almost drop off again, she heard Miervaldis' door open.

"What is it?" His voice was still slightly hoarse and tired.

"Milord..." Alyn didn't recognise the maid's voice. "Milord, I have something... something I need to tell you. About milord Cassian, I mean..."

Silence, and then a soft thump, as though Miervaldis had sat down. Alyn rubbed her eyes and got carefully out of bed, trying her best to be quiet.

"Go on," said her lord. There was a long pause, during which Alyn crept to the keyhole and put her eye to it. The maid was standing with her back to the main door, which meant Alyn could see her profile, although she didn't recognise the girl. She had long brown hair tied neatly back, and she was shifting slightly from foot to foot. Miervaldis was indeed sitting down, looking faintly ridiculous in a long velvet dressing gown she knew belonged to Fifth Star Court.

"It was the night before the, the murder, milord," the girl said, voice subdued. "I was on cleaning duty along that corridor, see, and I'd just finished."

"What time would this be?"

"Oh, late, milord. It always takes a long time at the end of the day."

"After midnight?"

"About then, milord. I'm not sure exactly."

"I see. So what happened?"

"I was passing along the corridor, milord, and I saw milord Cassian. He was going into his study, milord, and he looked angry."

"Into his study? I see. What was he wearing?" Alyn distinctly saw the maid's hands twitch at the question, then ball into fists.

"I don't know, milord, something rich. It was dark, see."

"I do see." He looked thoughtful. Alyn held her breath. The maid fidgeted.

"What's your name?" he asked abruptly.

"Brenna, my lord."

"Thank you, Brenna, for the information. I will bear it in mind."

"But -" she sounded agitated, Alyn thought, wishing she could see her face.

"What?" Miervaldis' tone carried only mild curiosity.

"No - nothing, my lord."

"Thank you, then," he said. "And for the breakfast. You may go."

Brenna turned, and Alyn saw her face clearly. She was scowling, looking both angry and worried. She left the room; Miervaldis waited until she had closed the door behind her, then walked over himself and locked it. Then he came over to the bedroom doors, looming large in her keyhole vision.

"If you weren't listening, Alyn, I shall be very disappointed in you." She opened the door, unable to resist grinning.

"I heard it all, my lord. Doesn't that mean Lord Cassian was lying?"

"It does, if what she said is true." Miervaldis went to the tray and poured tea for himself, and then a mug for her. Alyn added sugar and stirred it.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked. He shrugged.

"No reason to doubt her story," he said. "Not at the moment, anyway. Lord Cassian did say he came back around midnight, so that holds up at any rate." He fell silent, looking thoughtful. Alyn helped herself to the warm bread and the bowl of raisins which she suspected was Bensen's doing. Thinking of him reminded her of their other lead.

"My lord, are we going to interview Lord Isidor?"

"Yes, I'll see about arranging that. And you need to carry on with the papers, if you can bear it."

"Yes, my lord," she said cheerfully, grabbing some more raisins.

The lesson was surprisingly bearable that morning, mainly because Lord Ronoy was replaced by the much friendlier Lord Anstable. He bumbled on cheerfully about ancient battles and strategies for two hours without a break, but managed to make it interesting through the sheer number of anecdotes he related. Alyn actually laughed out loud after the best one, in which a foolish commander had, entirely by accident, thwarted the long-planned strategy of the general of the enemy army. She covered her mouth in horror, but Lord Anstable, who was very short-sighted, beamed in her general direction, and the page sitting next to her, a short, skinny boy who cowered rather than sat on his cushion, also smiled a bit at her. After a moment, she grinned back.

After that lesson, she deliberately timed her leaving so as to be just behind the skinny page boy. She watched him go, and noticed he also lingered away from the shoving group of bully boys who had been responsible for her beating. Enthused, she reached out to tug on his sleeve. He spun round in panic.

"Hi," she said, smiling, but he shook his head, still afraid. Puzzled, she dropped her hand. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't want to talk to you."

"Why?" She felt more confused than affronted. "Is it that lot over there?"

"No...." He knew what she meant, although the swaggering, laughing bunch had long gone.

"Well, if not that, then what?"

"Look, I..." he hesitated, then scowled. "I just don't want to." It rang so false that she laughed out loud, and he looked miffed at her mockery.

"Don't be daft," she said familiarly, hoping to encourage him out of whatever mood he was entertaining. "Who's your lord? What's your name?"

He straightened a bit.

"I'm Pyrrhus Berinhard of Eighth Star Court," he said, his voice thin in the big corridor, but much stronger than it had been. "I'm serving Lord Lysandros of the Fifth Star Court."

"I'm Alyn Vanyasdotter of Third Star Court," she replied in kind. "I'm serving Lord Miervaldis of the Fourth Star Court. Now, what's wrong?"

He dropped his eyes, then shook his head.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "I'm sorry..."

Alyn mentally shrugged, assuming that he had decided to ignore whatever threat the bullies offered.

"Nice to meet you, Pyrrhus of Eighth Star Court," she said cheerfully. "Are you going for lunch now?"

"Yes..."

"I'll come with you." He looked like he might be about to object, but she grinned at him until he swallowed his words and nodded. They headed for the kitchen together, although he didn't say anything the entire way.