The banquet hall was enormous, clearly intended to impress. Kite glanced round, trying to take it all in, but there wasn't as much as the size promised. A single long table stood in the centre of the hall on what had once been a rich red carpet. The carpet covered only where the table was; the familiar grey flagstones that made up the floor were not softened by any other covering. The walls, also predictably grey stone, bore hangings here and there, and a huge curtain hid one of the ends of the hall entirely. As Kite watched it, it twitched aside and a servant came forwards bearing a large jug to the table, where she started filling glasses.

The table would have been dwarfed in the midst of the enormous hall, were it not for the people filling it. Most of them wore rich and somewhat tasteless clothing, but on the other side of the table Kite saw a simply dressed woman in what could be religious garb, and at its foot, a pair of monks sat. Well, if they're not monks, they look like them. Anna ushered Kite to an empty chair halfway up one side of the table, and sat her down, retreating to stand a short distance behind her. Kite endured the intense scrutiny of her neighbours - a young, vivacious woman and an older man - for a short time before the Duke himself arrived, and everyone stood up.

The Duke was a big man, broad of shoulder and only a little fleshy. He had a bushy, well-kept beard, and like his steward, was dressed richly but not quite tastefully. He was tailed by a tall, slender woman who kept her eyes downcast, and a little boy looking round eagerly. His features bore a clear resemblance to the Duke; Kite guessed they were the Duchess and the Duke's heir.

"Thank you, my friends," the Duke said, deep voice echoing in the big hall. "And welcome to our guest, the lady Kite," the Duke continued, "who is on Quest. My lady," he bowed to her, "we are honoured by your presence."

"I thank you for your welcome and hospitality, my Lord," Kite said, keeping her courtesy light and full of smiles.

"What is it you seek, my lady?"

"I am looking for the sun." A murmur rippled round the hall at that. She caught fragments of sentences; what an odd thing to say, and sun-touched, haha. Kite noticed the greasy steward leaning close to his master's ear, and although she couldn't hear what was said, she could make a somewhat uncharitable guess. You won't find anything. As long as the illusion holds. She touched the spell gently and it quivered in her mind, still active. She breathed out steadily, relieved.

"And where do you come from, my lady?" the Duke continued smoothly, his deep voice cutting across the whispering laughter.

"Far, far away," Kite said, absolutely truthfully. "I have been travelling a long time."

"And you haven't found the sun yet?" More laughter.

"No my lord, else I should not be here sharing this meal with you."

"Then I should be glad indeed."

"Indeed," Kite echoed, despising the formality and the politics. She caught another whisper; absurd. Thankfully, the Duke raised his hands and commanded the party to sit, and she sank down into the seat, feeling quite small and more than a little absurd, indeed.

The older man sitting to her left leaned sideways to allow a servant to deposit a platter of meat on the table, then addressed her.

"So, you come from far away?"

"Um, yes," Kite answered, eyeing the meat which sat just out of polite reach. She ought to be hungry, but her appetite had gone.

"I have travelled extensively, you see," the man waffled on, "so - where do you come from again, if I may ask?"

Kite was saved from the choice of a believable lie or an incredible truth by her other neighbour, who weighed in on the conversation with all the social skill of an elephant at a tea party.

"Oh, don't worry about all that!" Her voice was high-pitched and giggly, somehow matching her frilly dress and elaborately beribboned hairstyle. "Tell me, what do they wear where you come from?"

Kite was torn between being aghast and amused, but she didn't have to reply; the lord on her left responded immediately to the theft of his conversation.

"Lady Corbre! I must object -"

"Don't monopolise her, you old bore!"

"Old bore!" Splutters. "Well, really!"

Kite turned her attention towards trying to eat something. The meat was surprisingly tender and well-flavoured; it had evidently been marinated in something interesting. She kept one ear on the ongoing conversation.

"Well, really? Sometimes I wonder what your parents -"

"My lady, this is most unseemly!"

"Unseemly? Well, how about you, poking and prying at our guest?"

"Oh, lady, um, Kite, how are you finding the food?"

Kite surfaced from an internal reverie.

"It's very nice, thank you," she said, finding it a relief to be capable of both courtesy and honesty in one sentence. Over in the corner, the steward had returned, a dissatisfied expression on his face as he spoke to his lord. Kite poked the spell in her mind again; it was quiescent, undisturbed. Nothing had come even close to testing it. Inwardly, she smirked.

The Duke was giving some more instructions to the steward. That wasn't good. She strained to hear or read his lips, knowing it was pointless.

"Lady Kite, is something the matter?" There was genuine concern in Lady Corbre's voice. Kite regained her composure.

"Oh no, thank you."

"You should eat some more," Lady Corbre encouraged, but before Kite could decline, the Duke clapped his hands, and the table fell into a hush. The lady managed by some sleight of hand to deposit an apple on Kite's plate.

"My friends," the Duke boomed, "we shall have entertainment tonight. Saryth!"

The big curtain moved again, and a slim white-haired figure stepped through. Kite caught her breath; it was the boy from the hill. No longer dressed in shabby grey, he wore a black gown over a fancy shirt and breeches, but his subtle attitude of resigned disgust managed to make the outfit appear dingy nonetheless. In addition to the fine clothes, he sported a black eye, vivid against his pale skin, visible through the strands of white hair that had escaped being caught back into a ponytail. Kite winced.

"What is your wish, my lord?" His tone was subservient.

"Show us... something exotic. Something that will please our guest. None of the more common ones today."

"As my lord commands."

He stepped forward, and a quick movement rustled round the hall as guests shifted edgily. He stopped short of the Duke's chair and raised his hands, an oddly fey smile crossing his face as he closed his eyes and concentrated.

Kite knew what was happening; with some effort she could feel the pulse and shiver of the magic. A gasp ran round the rest of the hall as a unicorn appeared in the young mage's hands, as though it leaped through a hole in reality from some fantastical country, emerging into their own world and bringing a little of its magic with it. Kite risked a glance away from the unicorn to observe the guests; they were all rapt, despite their earlier nervousness. The unicorn approached the Duke and bowed before him, to the delight of the little boy, and was followed by a stream of similarly fantastic creatures; a dragon, a flying horse, fairies and pixies. They cavorted around the table, so real they seemed to have a physical presence. Kite had to admire the artistry - the illusions were beautifully done, especially given the presence of so many sceptics.

The Duke clapped his hands again, and the illusions leaped once more and vanished. Saryth bowed his head, his expression guarded, the momentary elation of the magic completely gone.

"My lord."

The Duke turned to Kite, unsubtle triumph on his broad face.

"Well, my lady, how do you find the entertainment? Do you have such in your native land?"

"My lord Duke, it was very skilful." Truth. And what for the young mage who had crafted illusion with so deft a touch? How long had he been kept here, working illusions for the entertainment of a country noble? Her teachers had warned their pupils about the dangers of interfering with local customs, and she had nodded along with all the others at the tales of Arvadi who had narrowly escaped sticky ends after so doing, but she hadn't realised how difficult it would be to let something like this go unchallenged. She gritted her teeth and applied herself to the apple with more force than strictly necessary as the conversations surged back around her and the servants came through with more wine and the next course.

Four courses later, she had become well acquainted with Lady Corbre's opinions about current fashion and even more familiar with the travels of Lord Ramar, on her left. All the while she had kept an eye on the Duke's sorcerer, who'd been left to stand behind his master and watch the entire table eat. It had been impossible not to think about his situation. If only she could get him alone for a while, it might be possible to do something.

"My friends," the Duke said, breaking into the lazy post-dessert conversations. "It has been a delightful evening, but now I must retire." He laid a hand over his wife's, and smiled. "But first, my lady Kite, is there anything else you wish for the night?"

Kite had managed to avoid drinking much wine over the course of the meal, which meant she couldn't blame what happened next on intoxication.

"My lord, I am wondering if I might further presume upon your hospitality?" This is bound to go horribly wrong.

"Go on," the Duke said, clearly intrigued.

Kite took a breath, and forged ahead.

"I am wondering if I might have the sorcerer's services in my chamber this night?"

Another whisper-mutter ran round the hall, louder this time, but the Duke only raised an eyebrow. Kite was privately appalled at the lack of objection to her request, even though she knew her intentions to be very different from what had been implied. From the looks on the faces of the guests, none of them suspected ulterior motives. Certainly Saryth didn't. He was looking to one side, hair masking his face, but she could see his fists clenched. I'm sorry...

"Are they normally so forthright in your country, my lady?"

"I find that honesty is a great help in conversation," Kite said sweetly. "It ensures the dialogue is kept free from all the tedious double-talk and empy compliments." Was that too overt?

"Indeed." The Duke's expression was unreadable. "Well, you may surely have his service. I shall send him up now."

The steward appeared from behind the curtain, took Saryth's arm and led him away. Kite endured the stares of the guests as the Duke and his family left. Then the guests started rising and milling around, muttering and whispering and still staring at her. The only exceptions were Lady Corbre and Lord Ramar, who pointedly ignored her as she left the room, trailed by Anna.