Philmon coughed. ‘ Five? How many acts are there?’

Tab shrugged. ‘I’m not actually sure. Six, maybe. I was asleep.’

‘What’s it even about?’

‘It’s one of those hero plays. You know, big scary monster thing roaming the land, terrorising the little people, until the hero stops it with some heroic act. Or something,’ she added. ‘Like I say, it’s all a bit hazy.’

‘Huh,’ said Philmon. ‘And I bet I can guess who the hero is going to be.’ He stopped walking, puffed out his chest and slipped the end of his right hand inside the opening of his shirt. He tried to deepen his voice, which made it squeak and crack. ‘It is I, Lord Florian the Heroic, come to slay the… What’s the monster called?’

‘The Gimlet Eye is the name of the monster. It uses its gaze to kill, or something.’

‘And that’s the play he’s doing?’

‘Yes.’

Philmon sniffed. ‘Well, at least he’s not dead. Yet.’

They hurried around the end of the palace towards the main front gate. With his hat and his cape, it didn’t take them long to spot Fontagu, who was walking as quickly as his long legs could carry him.

‘Thank the gods he’s not running,’ Philmon said.

‘He’d never let anyone see him run,’ replied Tab. ‘How undignified!’

‘He’s definitely in a hurry, though,’ said Philmon.

They jogged after him and, after pushing through the crowds near the palace and in the streets nearby, they finally caught up near the Old Tree Guesthouse.

‘Fontagu! Hold up a minute,’ Tab called, but he didn’t appear to have heard her. He just carried on walking.

‘Fontagu!’ she called again. ‘Font -’ Her voice caught in her throat as a short, red-headed man stepped out of a doorway, and straight into the path of Fontagu, who took a sudden, uncertain backward step.

Judging by his broad shoulders and his hefty arms, the red-headed man had once been powerful. Much of that bulk had now softened, and following the laws of age and gravity, had transformed into a heavy gut. Even so, he still formed enough of an imposing figure to intimidate Fontagu.

‘Who is that?’ Philmon said.

‘Just wait,’ Tab replied, reaching out and holding Philmon back by the arm. ‘Let’s see what this is all about.’

‘We can’t hear what they’re saying anyway.’

‘Just wait,’ Tab said again.

She was glad of that decision a moment later, when they saw the red-headed man step behind Fontagu, pinning his arm behind him. A flash of fear flickered across Fontagu’s face, and as he was half-guided, half-pushed into the doorway, Tab saw the glint of something shiny held against the small of his back.

‘Now what do you suppose that’s all about?’ Philmon wondered aloud.

‘Have you ever seen that man before? Because I’m sure I haven’t,’ Tab said.

Philmon shook his head.

‘Huh,’ Tab remarked to herself, turning to look behind them. ‘What do you think we should do – follow them?’

‘No need,’ Philmon replied, as Fontagu reappeared, staggering slightly as he stepped down onto the pavement. His face was pale and his eyes wide as he glanced up and down the street, before setting off towards home. A moment later the red-headed man appeared as well. He too looked furtively up and down before limping up the hill towards Tab and Philmon, who did their best to melt into the crowd as he hurried past.

‘What was that smell?’ Tab said when he’d gone.

‘Tigerplums,’ Philmon replied. ‘He was eating one.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Some people like them.’

‘Yes, crazy people.’

‘Didn’t you see the colour of his mouth? All stained yellow.’

‘I didn’t see – I was too busy trying not to vomit from the smell. It stinks worse than Vlod’s spoiled boingy deer meat. Come on,’ Tab said, and they ran down the hill in pursuit of Fontagu.

They caught up with him a couple of streets later. He’d been making very good time.

‘Fontagu!’ Tab panted as they reached him.

He spun around, his hand to his chest. Then the back of his hand went to his forehead. For a moment, Tab wondered if he was about to pass out. ‘Oh Tab, must you startle a chap so? You know my disposition is delicate!’

‘Yes, I’m sure it is, especially after you’ve been held up at knife point.’

‘Whatever are you talking about, my dear child?’

‘We saw you,’ Philmon said. ‘We saw that man with you.’

‘Yes, that stinky, stinky man. Who was he?’ asked Tab. ‘And what did he want?’

Fontagu gave a forced laugh. ‘Oh, that? That was nothing! That was just a… a fellow actor, a thespian such as I. We were practising a scene.’ He tried to smile.

Tab and Philmon simply frowned at him. ‘Do you always rehearse in the middle of the street?’ Philmon asked. ‘Or in dark doorways?’

‘Come on, Fontagu, we’re not complete idiots,’ Tab said.

Fontagu slumped a little. ‘You’re right, of course. He wasn’t a colleague.’

‘So who was he?’

Fontagu’s usual demeanour was already starting to return. He flicked back his cape, adopted his dramatic wide-legged stance. ‘You know, children, you don’t have to know everything about my affairs. I am, after all, a grown-up.’

‘We know,’ Tab replied. ‘It’s just -’

‘So don’t be so nosy! Goodness me, you’d think that you were my sainted parents, the way you follow me around, constantly spying on me!’

‘Did he have anything to do with your appointment at the court?’ Tab asked.

‘Or The Gimlet Eye?’ Philmon added.

For a moment Fontagu was completely lost for words. It was something they very rarely saw. ‘ The Gimlet… How would you know about The Gimlet Eye? You have been spying on me!’

Neither Tab nor Philmon felt that they were in a position to disagree. ‘It’s because we worry about you,’ Tab explained.

‘Worry? About me? Why would you worry about me?’

Tab began to count off on her fingers as she spoke. ‘You got ambushed by the Tolrushians, you betrayed Quentaris under so-called torture…’

‘It was torture!’

‘… you smuggled the Equen Queen onto Quentaris…’

‘Not to mention that you stole an icefire gem and uttered a spell that sent Quentaris spinning into one vortex after the next,’ Philmon said.

Fontagu’s eyes flashed indignantly. ‘You have never heard anyone accuse me of that!’ he said defiantly.

‘Only because the one person who saw you do it – me! – has never told any of the people she might have told.’ Tab raised her arms high, pointing to the masts, rigging and great sails overhead. ‘All of this is your doing, Fontagu. All of it! If anyone ever found out, they’d string you up in the Square of the People until the crows had pecked out your eyes, before throwing you to the scavenjaws.’

Fontagu winced. ‘Don’t say that. Please.’

‘All I’m saying is that you haven’t exactly been the perfect citizen up to now, so we worry about what you might get up to next. Or who might catch up with you,’ she added.

Fontagu’s chin was crumpling as he fought back tears. ‘I do appreciate your concern, children, most sincerely I do. I am ever so touched. But you must trust me when I say that everything is under control. And with that said, I must take my leave. I have a great deal of preparation to… to prepare. Yes, that’s right, to prepare. So goodbye now.’

He turned then, and with a clumsy flourish of his cape he strode away. But his stride lacked some of its usual arrogance, as if some of his pride had leaked out of a small rupture in his side.

‘“Trust me”, he says,’ Philmon muttered. ‘I wouldn’t trust that man as far as I could spit.’

‘Did you notice anything missing?’ Tab said.

‘Like what? Tab? Where are you going?’ He jogged after Tab, who had turned and was striding up the hill, back towards the palace.

‘Did you notice anything missing?’ Tab repeated when he’d caught up to her. ‘What was Fontagu carrying when he left the palace?’

‘Um… just his script.’

‘And did he have it just then?’