A: You do? How so?

W: I shall not trouble you with the details, but I have my doubts concerning certain of her claims and hope presently to bring before the King one who can discredit her and show her to have borne false witness to him. It is a long-term investment but it should bear interest during our time at the Summer Palace or, if not, then shortly thereafter.

A: I see. Well, we must hope that you do not lose your capital. Can you tell me what form it takes?

W: Oh, it is the coin of man. And land, and tongue. But I must hold mine. I'll say no more.

A: I think I shall have more wine. Will you join me?

W: Thank you, no. I have other matters to attend to.

A: Allow me…

W: Thank you. Ah. My old bones… at least I am able to ride, though next year I may take carriage. I thank Providence the way back is easier. And that we are not far from Lep now.

A: I'm sure in the hunt you can out-jump men half your age, Duke.

W: I am sure I cannot, but your flattery is still gratifying. Good day.

A: Good day, Duke… Epline!

All this I copied — with a few deletions to make the narrative less tedious — from the part of the Doctor's journal written in Imperial. I never did show it to my Master.

Could she have overheard all this? It seems inconceivable. The guard commander Adlain had his own physician and I'm sure he never once called upon the Doctor's services. What would she have been doing anywhere near his tent?

Could they have been lovers and she was hiding under some bed covers all the time? That seems no more likely. I was with her almost all of the time, every single day. Also, she confided in me, sincerely, I am convinced. She simply did not like Adlain. Indeed she felt threatened by him. How could she suddenly have tumbled into bed with a man she feared, never giving the remotest sign before that she desired to, or afterwards that she had? I know that illicit lovers can be ingenious in the extreme and suddenly find within themselves reserves of guile and the ability to act that even they did not until then know they possessed, but to imagine the Doctor and the guard commander in such a sexual conspiracy is surely to draw the bow one notch too far.

Was Epline the source? Did she have some sort of hold over him? I do not know. They seemed not really to know each other, but who can tell? They may have been lovers, but the same unlikeliness attaches to that liaison as does to that of her and Adlain.

I cannot think who else could have heard all of this. It did occur to me that she might have made it all up, that what she wrote here constituted her darkest imaginings regarding what others in the Court might be planning for her, yet somehow that too does not feel right either. In the end I am left with something that I am certain reflects a genuine conversation, but with no clear idea how the Doctor came by it.

But there we are. Some things never do make perfect sense. There must be some explanation, and it is perhaps a little like the Doctrine of the Perfect Partner. We must be content to know that she exists, somewhere in the world, and try not to care overmuch that we will probably never meet her.

We arrived without incident at the city of Lep-Skatacheis. On the morning after we arrived the Doctor and I went to the King's chambers before the business of the day was due to start. As usual on such occasions, the King's business — and much of the Court's — comprised of hearing certain legal disputes which had been deemed too complicated or too important for the city authorities and the Marshal to decide upon. According to my experience, gained during the three previous years I had travelled this way, such sitting in judgment was not a function of his responsibilities the King relished.

The King's chambers were on a corner of the CityMarshal's palace, overlooking the reflecting terraces of the pools which led down towards the distant river. Swifts and darts played in the warm air outside, wheeling and tumbling beyond the cool stone of the balcony balustrades. The chamberlain Wiester let us in, fussing as usual.

"Oh. Are you on time? Was there the bell? Or a cannon? I did not hear the bell. Did you?"

"A few moments ago," the Doctor told him, following him across the reception room to the King's dressing chamber.

"Providence!" he said, and opened the doors.

"Ah, the good Doctor Vosill!" the King exclaimed. He was standing on a small stool in the centre of the great dressing chamber, being dressed in his ceremonial judicial robes by four servants. One wall of plaster windows, south facing, flooded the room with soft, creamy light. Duke Ormin stood nearby, tall and slightly stooped and dressed in judicial robes. "How are you today?" the King asked.

"I am well, your majesty."

"A very good morning to you, Doctor Vosill," Duke Ormin said, smiling. Duke Ormin was ten or so years older than the King. He was a lanky-legged sort of a fellow with a very broad head and a surprisingly large torso which always looked, to me at least, stuffed, as though he had a couple of pillows forced up his shirt. An odd-looking fellow, then, but most civil and kind, as I knew myself, having been briefly in his employ, though at a fairly menial level. The Doctor, too, had been retained by him, more recently, when she had been his personal physician before she had become the King's.

"Duke Ormin," the Doctor said, bowing.

"Ah!" the King said. "And I was favoured with a 'your majesty'! Usually I am lucky to escape with a 'sir'."

"I beg the King's pardon," the Doctor said, bowing now to him.

"Granted," Quience said, putting back his head and letting a couple of servants gather his blond curls together and pin a skull cap in place. "I am obviously in a magnanimous mood this morning. Wiester?"

"Sire?"

"Inform the good lord judges I shall be joining that I am in such a good mood they will have to be certain to be at their most sourly pitiless in court this morning to provide a balance for my irrepressible leniency. Take heed, Ormin."

Duke Ormin beamed, his eyes almost disappearing as his face screwed up in a grin.

Wiester hesitated, then started to make for the door. "At once, sire."

"Wiester."

"Sire?"

"I was joking."

"Ah. Ha ha." The chamberlain laughed.

The Doctor put her bag down on a seat near the door.

"Yes, Doctor?" the King asked.

The Doctor blinked. "You asked me to attend you this morning, sir."

"Did I?" The King looked mystified.

"Yes, last night." (This was true.)

"Oh, so I did." The King looked surprised as his arms were raised and a sleeveless black robe edged in some shiningly white fur was placed over his shoulders and fastened. He flexed, shifting his weight from stockinged foot to stockinged foot, clenching his fists, executing a sort of rolling motion with his shoulders and his head and then declaring, "You see, Ormin? I am becoming quite forgetful in my old age."

"Why now, sir, you have barely left your youth," the Duke told him. "If you go calling yourself old as though by royal decree, what must we think who are significantly older than you and yet who still fondly harbour the belief that we are not yet old? Have mercy, please."

"Very well," the King agreed, with a roll of the hand. "I declare myself young again. And well," he added, with a renewed look of surprise as he glanced at the Doctor and me. "Why, I seem to be quite bereft of any aches and pains for you to treat this morning, Doctor."

"Oh." The Doctor shrugged. "Well, that's good news," she said, picking up her bag and turning for the door. "I'll bid you good day then, sir."

"Ah!" the King said suddenly. We each turned again.

"Sir?"

The King looked most thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "No, Doctor, I can think of nothing with which to detain you. You may go. I shall call you when I need you next."