This morning he threw on a light sleeveless sweater to counter the early chill air, and jogged steadily away from the tenement. With so few people on the street he made good time to Brotherhood Canal, then ran along the path on the Ogden side until he was level with the militia stables where he cut across the meadows to the crystal wall itself. Golden morning light streamed through the crystal, creating a glowing barrier which curved slightly above him.

As he pounded onwards he felt strands of farsight wash over him, tenuous at best, his observers were trying to avoid being noticed. There were a few blatant scrutinies, accompanied by mental snickering. His routine had attracted a great deal of interest when he started it. The first couple of weeks had even seen kids running alongside as he left the tenement every morning. That casual amusement and mimicry had ended as he kept faithfully to his routine. On those early days after finishing his mild post-fall convalescence, he'd barely been able to last half a mile before having to stop, red faced and heart pounding. Now he could do forty-five minutes with ease.

Acena, the Culverit family doctor, had approved, commenting that she wished more people would take their health seriously. Others in the city had been less charitable. Edeard didn't care. Never again would he be so pathetically out of condition that he couldn't chase someone up a tower in Eyrie.

Once he was back level with Arrival Canal, Edeard headed back across the grass as the stable hands began leading the remaining militia horses on their morning walk. He crossed at the green and yellow slab bridge back into Jeavons as the district started to come to life, with shops and traders busy preparing for the day's commerce. As always he stopped at the bakery on the corner of Pharo Street to pick up some fresh croissants before heading back to the tenement.

Inside the maisonette he stripped off and handed the sweaty clothes to his ge-chimps for laundry. Beside the pool was a shallow oval-shaped recess in the floor, with a sheet of crystal curving round two thirds of it. Edeard stood inside, and told the room to let the water out. A thick spray gushed down on him from holes in the ceiling. He rubbed some soap on then ordered the water to cool slightly so he could rinse himself clean.

These days he actually preferred the novel mini-rainfall arrangement to bathing in the traditional pool. It was a lot quicker, and left him feeling refreshed even after the run. After the comment Kristabel made last night, he was wondering if he should extend the crystal sheet to make it big enough for two. Sharing might be a lot of fun.

He met Kristabel outside her mansion as arranged. The two of them took a family gondola across the city to Ilongo district, disembarking on the North Curve Canal, opposite the North Gate.

'You're happy, Kristabel said as they started walking. She was wearing a modest azure dress with a simple white lace hem, and a broad green hat to shade against the warming sun. Her thick hair hung down her back in a single fluffy tail.

'The caravan families are very good old friends, he replied, 'and I really don't have a lot of those.

They picked their way carefully along the tracks that wound across High Moat heading for the caravan pens. There was a lot of traffic that morning, with carts laden with produce, herds of farm beasts driven along, and terrestrial horses cantering in and out of the various wooden stable blocks. They had to step aside smartly for carriages carrying nobility out into the Iguru Plain at considerable speed.

'That's bad driving, Kristabel said indignantly as the third one sped past, cloaked in a mild seclusion haze. 'I recognize the crest, it belongs to the Ivesol family. I bet it's Corille off to their pavilion on Korbal Mount. She's started seeing Jamis on the sly, the third son of Upral; you know, the head of the Tarmorl family. And she's the eldest daughter; there's quite a dowry involved. I've heard her father say he wished his family copied ours, for she'd make a better District Mistress than her brother will ever do as Master.

'Really?

Kristabel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. She rapped her knuckles on his arm. 'Don't be a beast. These things are important. Those two families haven't been allied for over a century and a half.

'I'll try and remember. Remind me, which district belongs to the Ivestols?

'Lisieux Park.

'Okay. As he recalled, the Park's Master was a waverer in Council, leaning towards the current Mayor. He wondered if a family alliance with the ship-owning Tarmorls would tilt the Master towards Finitan.

'It helps, Kristabel said slyly.

'What does?

'That the Tarmorls support Finitan.

'Ah. Edeard grinned sheepishly. What would I do without her?

He wondered yet again if it was the right time to propose. It had been weeks since their break at the beach lodge, and he'd done his utmost to make time for himself and Kristabel at every opportunity. Yet his terror was now that she'd just think his only concern was time. It wasn't. There wasn't a minute of the day that went past without him thinking of what a life they could have together as man and wife.

He sighed as he scooted round a cart piled dangerously high with cages of geese. There must be some event or action that would convince her of how genuine he was, how much he'd thought it over, and still couldn't see a life without her. Maybe if I just say that?

But then what if it's not good enough? Oh Lady, why do you do this to me?

Not that her scriptures were any help. The closest she ever came on matters of the human heart were: To look into each other's souls and see yourself reflected there is the true sign of a blessed union.

The only trouble was, with the Lady being so old, every time he recalled a scripture he heard it in Mistress Florrel's voice.

Talk about a passion killer.

The pens along High Moat summoned up a real wave of nostalgia. This was the first part of Makkathran Edeard had ever experienced, he remembered being overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of people and animals sauntering along the tracks. The noise and dust was exactly the same as that day; if anything the traffic was thicker now. Three caravans were on their way out of the North Gate, hustled along by the Travel Master's apprentices who were trying to keep everyone moving at a decent rate and avoid jams at junctions between the various tracks. Instructions were shouted and longtalked, adding to the good-natured commotion.

Two caravans had arrived first thing that day. Stragglers were still lumbering along in their big wagons, drawn by bulky, stolid ge-horses. Edeard and Kristabel fell in behind one as they approached the pens. Assessors from several merchant houses were already walking alongside them, small ge-chimps curled up on their shoulders. Edeard remembered the little creatures with a fond smile. How the caravan families hated them; scampering up the crates and cages, examining produce with their oversize eyes and exceptionally sensitive noses, hunting for blemishes that had been strategically positioned out of sight.

Edeard and Kristabel arrived at the three pens which Barkus had been allocated, and stood for a moment looking at the wagons. Five were new, but Edeard recognized every one of the remainder. O'lrany's cart with pigs peering over the rear; as pungent as ever, though the O'lranys themselves always claimed they could smell nothing. The wagon of dark jarash, with its intricate inlays of claret-coloured wood that Golthor chiselled in each winter. Olcus, inspecting the axle of his wagon, while his three young children ran about in gleeful pursuit of a whistling loop. Olcus who gave Edeard a strange look, then craned forward as if not quite believing the tall young man in a jet-black constable's uniform.