What he wanted was to spend a couple of days resting up, thinking about his next move; certainly he needed to talk to Grand Master Finitan. Then at lunchtime on the second day Kanseen longtalked him.

The Cobara district had always delighted Edeard. It didn't have streets like the rest of the city. Instead, over a hundred great pillar towers rose out of the ground, all a uniform four storeys high, wide enough for each level to provide enough room for a family to live in. But it was above the towers where the architecture excelled. Each tower was the support column for a broad bridge spanning the gap to the next tower. Most towers provided the base for at least three such bridges, and many had more than that, webbing the district with an array of suspended polygon structures. That was where the district's true accommodation began, extending up to six storeys high from the low curve of each bridge platform. They formed triangles, squares, pentagons, hexagons and, right in the centre of the district, the bridges made up the famous Rafael's Fountain dodecagon which housed the Artist, Botany, and Cartography Guilds. The fountain itself roared up from a big pool in the middle of the dodecagon, its foaming white tip rising higher than the arching crystal roofs.

Edeard walked past the fierce jet of water, his third hand sweeping away the stingingly cold spray that splattered round the edges of the pool. He was well wrapped up in his fur-lined cloak, with a black ear-flap hat pulled down over his hair, and a maroon scarf covering his mouth. Nobody recognized him through his seclusion haze, though he was very conscious of the ge-eagle slipping through the dull grey sky that was keeping pace with him.

After the fountain he took a left, heading towards the Millagal tower, with its red and blue striped walls, covered by a leafless network of gurkvine branches. Teams of ge-monkeys were out in force, clearing the last of the slush on the plaza which extended across the whole district beneath the thick shadows of the elevated buildings. Winter gave Cobara a strangely subterranean aspect, with only sallow slivers of sunlight reaching down through the elaborate structures above. In summer, the plaza was full of people and small markets and street artists and kids playing games. Today, they were all huddled next to their stoves in the rooms overhead, complaining about springs late appearance.

Edeard was glad there were few people about, his mood was still down. He arrived at the base of the Yolon tower, and went through the wide archway. A massive set of stairs spiralled up the central lightwell. He grunted at the sight of them, each curving ledge spaced just wrong for human legs. One day, he reflected as he made his calf-aching way upwards, he would just throw caution away and reshape every Lady-damned staircase in the city.

Three bridge cloisters radiated out from the top of the stairs. He took the Kimvula one, and was immediately heartened by the bustling atmosphere so high above the ground. The cloister was narrow in relation to the height of the walls on either side, five storeys of ogee arches and oriel windows. Nevertheless, it was wide enough for stalls to be set up along both sides. He unwrapped his scarf as he walked past them, it was warm inside the cloister, the winter sunlight shaded with a faint pink tinge by the crystal roof. People flocked round the various stalls, haggling with the owners. The air was scented with spices, and very dry. Someone, somewhere, was roasting honeyplumbs.

A third of the way down the cloister he turned into a narrow side corridor which led to yet another spiral stair. Sighing, he trudged up a further three storeys. The hallway on this floor was illuminated by the city's orange light radiating from the circles positioned above each doorway. He found the red door, with its ivy hinges painted purple, and knocked politely even though he could sense the minds behind the wall.

Dybal opened it. The old musician wasn't his usual self, he still wore a vibrantly coloured shirt, and his hair was immaculately braided, but the forceful good humour was subdued. 'Thank you for coming, he said. His eyes narrowed as he took in Edeard's blotchy pink face. 'Are you all right? You look like you've been burnt.

"I'm okay. I had an accident, that's all.

'Strange, that'll be the second accident I've heard of this week; there was a fire in the House of Blue Petals two nights ago. You shouldn't hang around that place, Edeard, it's been the ruin of many a poor boy.

'I'll remember, thanks.

Edeard was led into the parlour, which had a bulbous bay window looking out across the pentagonal space outside. Far below them, big nutpear trees grew in a series of troughs which curved out of the plaza floor. Their denuded branches shone bright white amid the shadows of the bridge buildings.

The rest of his squad were already there. Boyd and Dinlay standing close to a coal-burning iron stove, looking concerned and radiating worry. Kanseen was busying herself with a samovar of tea, her thoughts tightly shielded as always. Macsen knelt on the floor next to a chair where Bijulee was sitting, his arm on his mother's legs. She'd obviously been crying. Now she was dabbing at her face with a handkerchief, wearing a brave smile.

Edeard looked at the bruise that was darkening round her eye, and winced. His dismay suddenly turned to anger. 'Did you know them? he blurted.

She directed a fond smile at Edeard. Even with the bruise, she was still beautiful. 'No. I told them not to call you. I don't want you worried by this.

'Mother, Macsen said. 'It's our fault this happened.

'No, she insisted.

'What did they do? Edeard asked, almost afraid to know. He could see Macsen's hands clenching into fists.

'Nothing, Bijulee said. She smiled up at Kanseen who brought her a cup of steaming tea over. 'Thank you. They were just some thugs.

'Four, Macsen growled. 'Four thugs. He gave Edeard a significant look.

'They told me that actions have consequences, Bijulee said.

'And that Macsen should watch out. One hand caressed her son's head. 'They said you should find a different job. Then She indicated her eye. 'I never saw it coming. Me! I used to think I was city-smart. Lady, how stupid of me.

'Bastards! Macsen exclaimed.

'Cowards, Dinlay said.

'We've always known that, Kanseen said.

'Do you remember what they looked like? Edeard asked. 'Can you gift us?

'I'm afraid I can't, Bijulee said. 'It's all a bit of a blur. Maybe tomorrow when I've calmed down.

'Of course. I'm so sorry this happened. I don't know what Ivarl thinks he can achieve. The trial is only going to last another couple of days. Lian and the others are going to get decades in Trampello. What does he think he's going to get me to do by this?

'It's not your fault.

Macsen's jaw muscles clamped down. He continued to gaze up at his mother full of concern and adoration.

'Did anyone see anything? Edeard asked Dybal.

'No. It was the middle of the morning in the Bellis market. Hundreds of people were there, and nobody can remember anything. They do what they always do, and rush to help afterwards.

'I'm sorry, Edeard said again. He felt so useless. 'I'll do everything I can to make sure this doesn't happen again.

Dybal gave him a sad smile. 'I know you will. You're a good lad, Edeard, I appreciate that. I appreciate what you're trying to achieve, too. People need hope, especially now. Shame there's only one of you. This is a big city.

The squad got ready to leave. Edeard found Macsen's blatant hostility quite disconcerting; his friend was normally the most level headed of them all. 'Can I talk to you for a moment? Edeard asked Dybal.

The musician ushered him into a small room which held over a dozen guitars as well as a drum set. A desk overflowed with sheet music. Normally Edeard would have been fascinated by the instruments, today he took a shaky breath. 'I know this isn't a terribly appropriate time.