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Sharp allowed herself to be towed towards the main entrance, where portcullis teeth fringed a stone arch wide enough for wagons to pass each other without scraping the stonework. As the shadow of the walls fell upon Rue she felt a familiar ache.

“He has a sorcerer.”

“Damping shield. Quite strong,” Sharp said in a rare moment of clarity.

“It’s been a while since I felt one.”

“One what?” Sharp frowned as if Rue had made an improper suggestion, then looked behind her as if someone might have pinned a tail on her.

Rue shook her head. Most of the nobility had employed a sorcerer back in her day, and she had in her arrogance imagined that they were trying to save themselves from the justice of the Kindnesses. A damping shield could hide all manner of sins and also made it harder for a Kindness to work any magics they might have.

The sorcerers had of course been part of the largely ineffective defence against those who survived the Academy, but the fact that they remained even now showed that the nobility’s worst enemy had always been the nobility.

A silver coin saw “Lady Mahalla” and her companion past the gates and into the office of the assistant chamberlain, in whose custody a great tome of appointments lay neglected on an implausible acreage of polished oak. More silver kept the covers closed and saw the old ladies escorted across the courtyard once more to another, larger door.

Senna dropped from the sky as if she’d forgotten she owned wings. She hit Rue’s shoulder with an impact that bird bones were not shaped to absorb, nearly failing to find purchase. Saved narrowly from a further tumble to the flagstones, she cawed loudly.

“Not in my ear!” Rue raised a hand to swat the crow.

“There’s something wrong with the air,” Senna protested.

“Sorcery doesn’t agree with you. That’s all it is.” Rue scowled. The strength of the disruption charms didn’t bode well. She already felt the ache of her wounds. “Shit on me and I’ll wring your neck.”

Senna released a more subdued caw from one end, and nothing from the other. With any luck the sorcerer had laid their enchantments and moved on, returning only periodically to maintain them. With no luck, they’d be here, waiting.

The guardsman assigned to them opened the door and, relinquishing his responsibility to a liveried underling, retreated with a suspicious glance at the crow.

“You can’t bring that bird in here, my lady,” the young woman standing in their way declared.

“Can and will.” Rue pressed a silver crown into her hand.

More bribery saw them through a series of doors, up a flight of stairs, and into another office.

“Visitors, Master Percival.” With this briefest of introductions, the latest servant retreated at speed, closing the door behind him before anyone asked him to explain why he’d delivered two old women into the heart of the keep.

“Lady Sharp Mahalla is here to see Minor Remon.” Rue offered the chamberlain her best smile, keeping her lips together to hide her missing tooth.

“And does Lady Mahalla have an appointment?” The official pretended to consult the book lying open before him on his desk.

Rue, having purchased her way this far, felt that while bribery might still be an option, the depth of the man’s frown seemed to call for a different approach.

“Through there, are they?” Rue looked pointedly at the grand doors to the left of the chamberlain’s reception chamber.

“I’m sorry, madam, but Minor Remon really can’t see anyone without an app—”

Rue leaned forward and dragged the leather-bound tome to her side of the polished desk. She glanced at the exposed pages without bothering to rotate the volume.

“Yes, I see. Quite the oversight.” She shut the book, and the clap of it closing echoed around the vaulted chamber. “Perhaps I need to amend the record.” She straightened, lifting the heavy book.

“Madam! I must insist…”

As Rue walked purposefully around the table, the man, taller, heavier, and younger than her, stood hastily from his well-upholstered chair and backed in the other direction.

“Master Percival.” Rue strove to sound concerned. “It was Percival, wasn’t it? Yes?” She reached his now-vacant chair. “I’m just a frail lady in the winter of her years.” She sat in the chair and set the book down. “I’ve never used a book to kill anyone.” She took the quill from the inkpot and opened the ledger again. “You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

As Rue started to append Sharp’s name to the appointment list, Master Percival found his voice and at least one of his balls.

“Now listen here!” He returned at speed before pulling up with a sudden yelp.