‘Go out? Where?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘I’ve got an errand I have to run,’ she explained. Then, before he could say a word, she added, ‘I’ve finished everything I had to do.’

‘The water troughs?’

‘Done.’

‘The chaff-bags?’

‘Full.’

‘Even the donkeys’ bags?’

‘ Especially the donkeys’ bags.’

‘The stables?’

‘Cleaned. And they’ve got fresh straw too, before you ask.’

‘I wasn’t going to… Oh, good then. The shickins?’

‘Fed and cleaned.’

‘Any eggs yet?’

Tab shook her head. ‘Still no eggs.’

Bendo turned away, his brow furrowed. ‘I don’t understand why they’re not laying,’ he muttered, shaking his head.

Smiling to herself, Tab took the opportunity to slip out the gate of the farm and into the bustle of people in the street outside.

The thoroughfares were particularly crowded today, so it took longer than usual to reach Fontagu’s boarding house. When she arrived, Philmon was waiting on the opposite side of the street, sitting on a low step. He seemed annoyed. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked, standing up.

‘I’ve been coming,’ she said. ‘There were so many people. Has Fontagu already left?’

‘Yes! He went a few minutes ago.’

‘Did he see you?’

‘No, I don’t think so. He had his head in one of his play-scripts. He was definitely being all “actor-ish”,’ Philmon added with a flourish.

Tab rolled her eyes and groaned. ‘That’s all we need – Fontagu getting all high and mighty and full of himself.’

‘Is he ever any other way?’

‘I guess not. Come on, we should catch up to him. Rooftop?’

Philmon nodded. ‘Rooftop.’

Moments later they were on the roof of Fontagu’s boarding house, having shimmied up a drainpipe, scampered along a thin wall, vaulted over a parapet and climbed another pipe. There weren’t too many places in Quentaris they couldn’t go in this way. In fact, on one occasion they’d managed to get from the port side of the city to the starboard without their feet touching the ground once. Sure, they’d come to a couple of dead ends on some of the taller buildings and had had to double back to find a new route, and it had taken the better part of a day to do it, but they’d succeeded in the end.

Now, they made their way to the rooftops and headed aft, towards the mainmast and the palace beyond it. They stayed as close as possible to the street which took the most direct route to the palace, looking out for the tall, flamboyant Fontagu.

‘What was he wearing?’ Tab asked Philmon.

‘The usual. Hat with feather, velvet cape.’

‘The red one?’

‘No, the purple one.’

‘Oh!’ said Tab, surprised. ‘He is serious, isn’t he? The purple one? Well, at least we know what we’re looking for.’

They continued along the rooftops, still searching the crowds below for the white-feathered hat and the purple cape with the gold braiding around the edge. Finally, just disappearing around the corner of a house, they spotted Fontagu, striding along, script in hand.

‘There he is!’ said Tab, pointing. Then she dropped off the edge of the roof, landing softly on a narrow balcony below, startling a reclining old man who was snoozing there in the sun.

Philmon followed her over the edge, only stopping long enough to apologise to the old man.

‘Fontagu!’ Tab shouted, running across the street, through a group of children, and past a slightly nervy donkey.

Fontagu turned around and gaped in surprise. ‘Tab?’ he said as she jogged up, breathing hard. ‘And Philmon? I say, children, to what do you owe this great honour?’

‘Don’t you mean -’ Tab began.

‘I know what I meant,’ Fontagu said. ‘Why are you here? I’m on my way to the Archon’s palace at Florian the Great’s behest.’

‘We know. That’s why we’re here. We think we should come with you.’

Fontagu shook his head furiously. ‘Absolutely not! It’s out of the question! Why, the very idea!’

‘But why not?’

‘Why not? Let me ask you a question in return, my dear young friend. What could you possibly expect to achieve by coming along?’

‘We can look out for you,’ said Tab. ‘We don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself in for.’

Fontagu laughed, loud and booming, and it made Tab scowl. She hated being looked down on, almost as much as she hated being laughed at.

‘I’m serious, Fontagu.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you are, but I simply can’t let you come along.’

‘I told you this was a foolish idea,’ Philmon said to Tab.

‘We won’t be in any danger, if we just hang back.’

Fontagu suddenly looked rather stern. ‘Oh, I’m not thinking about you being in danger. I just don’t think I can be seen with you. I mean, look at yourselves, you in particular, Tab. You look like you’ve just been cleaning out the stables of some farm animal.’

‘Yes, well…’ Tab began.

‘And you, Philmon – what have you come as?’

‘I’m just dressed the same way I usually am,’ Philmon replied, looking a little hurt.

Fontagu sniffed. ‘Indeed. Whereas I… I am resplendent!’ He held up one of his long, bony hands, and tilted his chin back. ‘No, I’m afraid I must be most emphatic on this. I simply cannot allow you to come in with me.’

‘Told you,’ Philmon muttered, taking Tab by the elbow. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Good advice,’ Fontagu said. ‘I’m sorry, children, but this is grown-ups’ business. Grown-ups’ business for which I do not intend to be late. Goodbye.’ And with that said, he turned his back and strode away up the hill.

‘So…’ said Philmon.

‘This isn’t over,’ Tab replied.

‘Come on, Tab, it is over,’ Philmon said, gently pulling her away.

Tab yanked her arm free. ‘Philmon, tell me, what is the stupidest animal you know of?’

‘Stupidest?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know – a rat?’

‘No, rats are clever and cunning.’

‘Sheep?’

‘Well… kind of. But no. Here, watch this.’ She strode forward to where Jilka the street vendor was selling loaves of bread. A crowd of pigeons had gathered around, waiting for crumbs, and they only moved out of the way as someone approached the stall to buy something.

‘Hi, Jilka,’ she said. ‘Good sales today?’

‘So-so, Tab,’ Jilka replied.

‘Can you spare a crumb for an old friend?’

‘I can give you a whole loaf if you like.’ Jilka took a flat roll from the top of the pile and tossed it to Tab. ‘On the house.’

‘Thanks, Jilka,’ she said, tearing off a hunk and putting it into her mouth. As the crumbs fell around her feet, the pigeons, which were as bold as house pets, squabbled around her feet, pecking for the tiniest morsels.

Tab pulled off a small piece of bread and tossed it out into the middle of the street, and the pigeons turned and flapped after it. One at the front of the pack got there first, snatched up the bread in its beak, and flew away to eat in peace.

‘So?’ said Philmon.

‘Now watch,’ Tab said, pulling off another chunk and pretending to throw it. As she raised her arm, most of the pigeons rose into the air and tried to hover there, anticipating another offering of bread. When nothing came their way, they began to resettle on the ground.

‘Now, watch this.’ Tab bent and picked up a small, pale coloured pebble. She lobbed it gently away, and the pigeons spun as one and raced to be first to what they thought was more bread. One of them skidded up to the pebble, grabbed it with its beak, then dropped it suddenly.

‘See? Stupid.’

‘Fine, pigeons are stupid,’ Philmon agreed. ‘So?’

‘So we’re going to get into that palace after all. Come on.’

And she turned and trotted off up the hill towards the palace, with Philmon in confused pursuit.

‘I don’t understand,’ Philmon said.

Tab said nothing. Instead she frowned and looked around the Square of the People. Behind them was a newish fountain, and the statue in the middle was of Florian. It was quite a gruesome statue – it depicted a rather slim Florian holding up the head of some enemy or another, and the water in the fountain poured from the neck of the corpse at his feet. It was supposed to show the bravery and greatness of Florian, but pretty much everyone in Quentaris knew that Florian had never done anything brave in his life.