The only noise was the crowd outside jeering and taunting the paramilitaries on the cordon. Araminta peered cautiously into the living room. Nobody about. Her macrocellular clusters couldn't detect any individual data signals. She'd isolated herself from the Unisphere, and knew she couldn't reconnect without being detected. She crossed the living room, feeling unnervingly exposed. The main door was ajar, its expensive brass lock broken, which drew a scowl. As far as she could determine, the whole fourth floor was deserted. She shut the door, and jammed a crate of kitchen fittings behind it.

'Okay then, she said, and sat down in the ancient armchair. Got up again and went over to the kettle. She was just about to switch it on when she wondered if some tricky little monitor program would notice the power usage. Five minutes later she'd extracted the power cell from a bot, and wired it up to the kettle.

She sat back down in the armchair with a cup of wonderfully hot tea and some of the classy chocolate biscuits she always kept around.

So now what?

Edeard hadn't visited the House of Blue Petals for nearly a month. Now, with the court case winding down, he stood on the street facing it as the sea breeze gusted along Upper Tail Canal. Finally, the winter was ending, with the onset of spring conjuring some much-needed warmth across the Lyot Sea. A light drizzle swept through Edeard's concealment to dampen his face. He continued to stare at the building with its long oval windows, frowning at the vague feeling of disquiet stirring in his mind. Men went in and out the same as they always did. The doormen stood like muscular statues on either side of its three tall doors. Even the piano music drifting out across the street was pleasingly familiar.

When he pushed his farsight through the sturdy walls, he detected nothing out of the ordinary. The bar was full of eager clients, with the stewards mixing their drinks which the ge-monkeys delivered. The madam made her rounds. All around the gallery, the girls pouted and batted their eyes, radiating faux longing. Up on the third floor, Ivarl's mind was its usual tight knot of suppressed thoughts. He was in his office as always, with several people in respectful attendance.

It was all perfectly normal.

So what's wrong?

One day he would really have to make sense of these sensations which occasionally haunted him. But this was hardly as bad as the night Ashwell was attacked. He would just have to be alert, that was all.

The two sailors walking up the steps never knew they were shadowed, putting any nerves down to the questing gaze of the uniformed doormen. They were waved through. Edeard followed them across the threshold.

The decor had changed slightly. Ivarl had bought some large coloured-glass globes over two feet in diameter, their swirling patterns of amber and aquamarine clashing in gentle curlicues. Ten of them stood on ornate wooden pedestals around the walls of the bar. Edeard gave them a mildly disapproving glance, and slipped further into the room.

A dog barked loudly.

Edeard froze. He hadn't realized the animal was there, its mind was similar to the ge-monkeys. It was a beagle, chained up to one of the big iron door hinges. Even as he reached for its mind to quieten it down, the doormen were slamming the doors shut. Huge metal bolts, three inches thick were rammed home, locking the doors tight.

He whispered: 'Oh crap, as people started shouting. Several clients were in a panic, scurrying round to find some route out. He had to flatten himself back against the wall as one militia officer ran past demanding to know what was going on. A group of the uniformed doormen had clustered together around the bottom of the stairs. They were brandishing revolvers.

'Gentlemen, your attention please, Ivarl shouted. 'Quiet!

Edeard looked up as the bar fell silent. Ivarl was standing on the gallery, both hands on the rail looking down, his irregular lips open in a brutish smile. Edeard almost let out a cry of dismay. Tannarl, was standing beside him, surveying the upturned faces with that superior leer of his. Edeard had met Ranalee's father only once before, at a fabulous ball the Gilmorn family had thrown in their mansion. As they'd shaken hands he'd seen where Ranalee got her hauteur from.

Lady, but I'm an idiot.

'I'd like to welcome my newest guest to this House, Ivarl announced loudly and smugly, he held up a pair of socks Edeard recognized — they'd been left behind in that lodge on the Iguru, that was what the beagle must have scented. 'And I extend the full use of the bar to you… Waterwalker.

The clients gasped in consternation, looking round to spot Edeard.

'Everyone else is now entitled to a free night with my girls. Please make your way up the stairs. Quickly gentlemen, thank you.

As the doubtful clients did as they were told, Tannarl produced a large pistol which he checked casually. Several of Ivarl's lieutenants had also appeared on the gallery, equally well armed. There was no way Edeard could get up the stairs unnoticed, the group of doormen at the bottom were pressed close together, and using their third hands to form a barrier. Every client was scrupulously checked over before they were allowed up.

When Edeard used his farsight to probe down, he couldn't find any tunnel directly underneath the House of Blue Petals. It would be easy enough for him to smash through one of the doors, but to do that he'd have to drop his concealment. And that was what this was all about, he realized. Ivarl must be desperate to know how Edeard gathered information. Right now he simply suspected.

Edeard looked at the pistols lining up around the gallery. Again, he could protect himself, but at the cost of concealment. He couldn't decide if he'd be safer standing under the gallery, or moving round when they started shooting.

The last of the clients scuttled up the stairs.

'I know you're here, Ivarl called down. Tannarl aimed his pistol down into the bar, and fired. The noise was thunderous. Edeard flinched as the bullet smacked into a high backed chair, blowing a big chunk of wood out of the back. He'd never seen a bullet that powerful before.

Ivarl laughed, and pointed his own pistol down. Edeard scuttled to the side of the bar and crouched down. The barrage of shots which followed sent splinters and clumps of cushioning feathers flying through the air. Some of the lieutenants had a grand time shooting abandoned glasses on the tables.

Ivarl held his hand up and the firing stopped. 'Ready to say hello, yet, my young friend?

Edeard looked across the floor. It was covered in debris now, and cushioning feathers were still fluttering through the air. He would never be able to walk across it without disturbing something. They'd see him instantly.

Ivarl began to reload his pistol, slotting unusually long bullets into the cylinder. 'They say you come from the country somewhere back west, he said casually. 'That probably means you're unfamiliar with parts of our city and how it works. Everyday stuff the rest of us take completely for granted. For instance, did you know that if there's a fire the walls simply repair themselves? In a month, you'd never even know anything happened.

Edeard eyed the back of the bar. He might be able to make it to the rear storeroom without making too much commotion.

One of the wooden pedestals began to tilt as a third hand pushed it. Then it fell over, sending the colourful globe crashing down. The glass smashed. Liquid splashed out. Edeard gave it an alarmed look, he hadn't known the globes contained anything. That was when he realized the liquid was actually Jamolar oil, used in lanterns everywhere on Querencia except Makkathran, where there was no need. The remainder of the globes were shoved over, smashing to flood oil out across the floor. He watched it spreading towards him with growing alarm. This was getting serious, he wasn't sure his shield could cope with fire and these bullets. The oil was getting very close to the nearest stove.