Such a restless soul, thought Matze Chai. But, then, Waylander was a man on a mission that could never be completed, a quest born in despair and longing. At first Matze Chai had believed Waylander to be seeking redemption for past sins. This was only partly true. No, what the Grey Man sought was an impossibility.

An owl hooted close by, breaking Matze Chai's concentration.

Kysumu finished his sketch, and replaced it in the leather folder. Matze Chai beckoned him to sit in the second chair. 'It occurs to me,' he said, 'that had the remaining robbers not panicked and run you would have been overwhelmed.'

'Indeed,' said Kysumu.

'Or, if my guards had not attacked the second group at just that instant, they could have run at the palanquin and killed me.'

'They could have,' agreed the swordsman.

'But you did not think it likely?'

'I did not think of it at all,' said Kysumu.

Matze Chai suppressed a smile, but allowed the feeling of warm satisfaction to flow through him. Kysumu was a delight. The ideal companion. He did not gush or chatter, or ask endless questions. He was, in truth, harmony itself. They sat thus for a little while. Then food was brought and they ate quietly.

At the conclusion of the meal Matze Chai rose from his chair. 'I shall sleep now,' he said. Kysumu rose, pushed his sword and scabbard into the sash around his robes, and strolled from the camp.

The captain of Matze Chai's guards, a young man named Liu, approached his master and bowed deeply. 'Might I enquire, Lord, where the Rajnee is going?'

'I would imagine he is seeking out the robbers, in the event that they might be following,' Matze Chai told him.

'Should some of the men not go with him, Lord?'

'I do not believe he has need of them.'

'Yes, Lord,' said Liu, bowing and backing away.

'You did well today, Liu,' said Matze Chai. 'I shall mention it to your father upon our return.'

'Thank you, Lord.'

'You were frightened, though, were you not, before the fighting began?'

'Yes, Lord. Did it show?'

'I am afraid that it did. Try to exhibit a little more control of your expressions should any similar incidents occur.'

The Grey Man's palace had initially both surprised and disappointed Keeva. Darkness had fallen as they arrived. They had ridden slowly up a dirt road through thick woods, emerging on to open ground and an area of well-trimmed lawn, bisected by a wide stone avenue. There were no fountains or statues. Two spear-wielding guards were patrolling the front of a long, flat, single-storey building around two hundred feet long. There were few windows to be seen, and even these were dark. The only light Keeva could see came from four large brass lanterns hanging in the wide, marble-pillared entrance. It looks like a mausoleum, thought Keeva, as the Grey Man rode his horse forward.

The black doors opened and two young men ran out to meet them. Both wore grey livery. Weary now, Keeva dismounted. The servants led the horses away, and the Grey Man beckoned her to follow him inside. An elderly man was waiting for them, a tall, stooping figure, white-haired and long-faced. He, too, was wearing grey, an ankle-length tunic of fine wool. At the shoulder the image of a tree had been beautifully embroidered in black satin. He bowed to the Grey Man. 'You look tired, sir,' he said, his voice deep and low. 'I shall have a hot bath prepared.'

'Thank you, Omri. This young woman will be joining the staff. Have a room prepared for her.'

'Of course, sir.'

Without a word of farewell the Grey Man strode away across the marble-tiled hallway. He had said little since they had moved away from the ruins, and Keeva wondered if she had said, or done, something to annoy him. She felt confused and uncertain, and gazed around at the velvet hangings, the ornate rugs and the walls adorned by fine paintings.

'Follow me, girl,' said Omri.

'I have a name,' she said, an edge of irritation in her voice.

Omri paused, then turned slowly.

She expected an angry response, but he merely smiled. 'My apologies, young woman. Of course you have. So let us not keep it a secret. Pray share it with me.'

'I am Keeva.'

'Well, that was easily settled, Keeva. Now will you follow me?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' He moved across the hall, and turned right into a broad corridor, which led to a wide staircase that descended into shadow. Keeva paused at the top. She had no wish at all to spend the night in this ugly, flat dwelling. But to go underground? What kind of man would spend his wealth building a home burrowed under the earth? she wondered.

The servant Omri was a little ahead of her now and Keeva moved swiftly down the carpeted stairs. The whole building seemed dark and dingy, occasional lanterns casting sinister shadows to the walls. Within minutes Keeva felt hopelessly lost within a gloomy labyrinth. 'How can you live here?' she asked Omri, her voice echoing in the bleak corridor. 'It is an awful place.'

He laughed with genuine amusement. It was a good sound and she found herself warming to the man. 'It is surprising what one can become used to,' he told her. They passed several doors before Omri took a lantern from the wall and halted before a narrow doorway. Lifting the latch he stepped inside. Keeva followed him. Omri moved to the centre of the small room, took a candle from an oval table-top, and held the wick to the lantern flame. Once it was lit he replaced it in a bronze holder shaped like an open flower. Keeva looked around. There was a bed against the wall, a simple piece, unadorned and crafted from pine. Beside it was a small cabinet, upon which was placed another candle in a bronze holder. Heavy curtains covered the far wall. 'Get a little rest,' Omri told her. 'I will send someone to you tomorrow morning early to explain your duties.'

'What is it that you do here?' she asked him, her words tumbling out in her anxiety not to be left alone.

'I am Omri, the steward. Are you all right? You seem to be trembling.'

With a great effort Keeva smiled. 'I am well. Truly.'

Omri paused and ran his thin hands through his thinning grey hair. 'I know that he fought and killed the men who attacked your settlement, and that you were captured by them, and treated . . . badly. But this is a good house, Keeva. You are safe here.'

'How could you know all that happened?' she asked.

'One of our guests is a Chiatze priestess. She can see over great distances.'

'She practises magic?'

'I do not know if it is magic. There are no spells cast. She merely closes her eyes. But it is, I must admit, beyond my understanding. Now, get some rest.'

Keeva heard his footsteps echoing along the corridor. Safe she might be, but she was determined to stay in this awful place not one heartbeat longer than necessary. Never before had Keeva been afraid of the dark, but here, in this underground palace, she found herself staring at the little candle, pitifully grateful for its flickering light.

Weary from the long ride, she removed the cloak, dangling it over the back of a chair, then slipped out of her dress. The bed was comfortable, the mattress firm, the blankets clean, the pillow soft and yielding. Keeva closed her eyes and slipped into a dream-filled sleep. She saw again the Grey Man ride from the forest to confront the raiders, but this time when he came to rescue her his face was bleached of all colour. He took her by the arm and led her to a wide hole in the ground, dragging her in. She screamed – and woke, heart pounding. The candle had guttered and gone out, leaving the room in total darkness. Keeva rolled from the bed and scrabbled for the door latch, dragging it open. In the corridor a distant lantern was still burning. Taking the second candle from the bedside cabinet she ran to the lantern and lit the wick from its flame. Then she returned to her room, and sat quietly, berating herself for her fear.