'It will be difficult enough… I know nothing of my kin.' Carnelian clutched the air for words. This new world…' He was feeling so many emotions. He stood up, walked to the bow rail, blinked until he could see again. The bay swelled up into the middle of the coomb where the water extended its colours up into a pebbled beach. He went towards the stern, aware of the cobbling in the skull deck, steadying himself on the rail. The ferryman was a sinister doll. The only living part of him were the hands that stroked the handles of the steering oars.

'I would have you leave me on the beach,' Carnelian said to the ivory mask, seeking the brightness of an eye behind its single slit. He clenched his fists. Did the creature even have ears? He was lifting his hand to point when he saw the ferryman's fingers urge the steering oars to the right and he felt the boat veer to port. Turning, he saw that her prow was pointing into the bay.

He walked back to where Jaspar stood waiting, his hands on his hips. 'Why have we changed course, my Lord?'

Carnelian's hands made warding motions that he could see Jaspar tried to read, then he was past him and Jaspar's protests became nothing more than seagull cries. Carnelian reached the prow post, embraced its elaborate fluting of thighbones. The crescent of the beach was rushing towards him, the water turquoising as it shallowed. The boat slowed. He could see that if she were to go much further she would run aground. He turned to look back. Jaspar was closing in on him, hiding everything behind his vast shape. Suddenly, Carnelian could not bear to have a Master near him. He swung himself round the prow post, let go and fell like an anchor. The water sucking up to receive him squeezed out a gasp. He found his feet and fought his way towards the shore against the drag of his robe. When the water was around his knees he swung round panting and saw the boat already turning, showing her bony length and the gradient of her oars. Carnelian glimpsed Jaspar who had a flash for a face, then the boat had swung about to hide him with her stern and was sliding away, stirring the wake with her shoulder-blade steering oars.

Carnelian heaved his robe out of the water and crunched up the pebble beach. One last tug caused him to stumble. He fell onto his hands, cursing. He pulled against the weight of soaked cloth and sat up. His palms felt contours in the pebbles. He picked one up that was as blue as the Skymere. A fish twisted round on itself in the lapis lazuli. Its tiny scales snagged the end of his finger. Its gills were delicate fans. He put it down carefully and picked up another pebble. A piece of flawed jade, carved into a fern spiral. He looked round him. All the pebbles were carved. He stared along the sweep of the beach, his hand stroking the spiralled jade. So many pebbles. He tried to imagine the labour they represented, but he might as well attempt to count the stars in a night sky.

A movement caught his eye. He straightened to see a man up the beach, frozen. As Carnelian clambered to his feet, the man yelped and fled. Carnelian attempted to run after him but his feet scooped pebbles as his robe held him back like chains. He gave up and watched the man lope up some steps and disappear into trees.

'Let them find me,' he muttered. He tucked the jade pebble into a pocket and stooped to remove his shoes. He gathered up his robe and wrung some of the water out of it. His feet looked very white. He worried that the water might have washed off their paint. He shrugged. What could he do if it had? He hoisted the train of his robe over one arm and sauntered up the beach feeling the pebbles' carvings with his toes. Something was whirring in the air. He turned his head slowly. A dragonfly was hovering in the blur of its wings, the size of a dagger but more exquisitely enamelled.

Voices across the beach wafted it away. A familiar clink of armour made him turn. Perhaps a dozen guardsmen were filing towards him. Carnelian almost cried out when he saw their chameleon tattoos. He dropped his robe to wait for them. They looked at him uncertainly, rounding their shoulders. He searched their faces, then cursed his stupidity at trying to find one he knew. Their commander plunged his knees into the pebbles and in threes and fours the others followed him.

Carnelian did not know what to say.

'Master, please take no offence,' the commander said without lifting his eyes, 'but our Masters've given us no warning of your visit. If you'd please go, Master, go' – he pointed – 'back to the quay and wait with your tyadra, someone appropriate'll come down to greet you… Master.'

Carnelian shook his head. There's no tyadra.' He lifted his arms from his sides. 'I'm here as you see me.'

'Of course it's not my place, but… the Master shouldn't be here.'

'Don't worry, I'm not trespassing… what's your name?'

The man looked up fearfully. 'M-Moal, if it please you, Master.'

'Well, Moal, I'm your Master's son returned.'

Others were sneaking looks at him. Moal chewed his lip. 'Our Master's son's well known to us.'

Carnelian had to think about that for a moment. 'No, not the Master you have here. I meant the Master of this House, who's long been away.'

Several of the guardsmen forgot themselves enough to stare, but quickly ducked their heads. Carnelian watched their hands fussing with their weapons.

'Is there someone I can talk to?'

'If it pleases you, Master, someone'll be here soon,' mumbled Moal.

So Carnelian waited, eventually turning his back on them because he did not want to see their grovelling. He reached down to squeeze more water out of his robe, all the time feeling their stares.

'Master?'

A woman's voice. He turned and instantly a weight of tears stiffened his face. It was Brin. He squeezed his eyes closed several times. He gritted his teeth. She was still there. His shoulders sagged; it was not Brin. This woman was younger, though she was very like his aunt.

The woman bowed. 'Master, why are you come to Coomb Suth?'

Carnelian squared his shoulders. 'It's my coomb. I'm Suth Carnelian.' The colour left her face where Carnelian saw his father's eyes. 'You're… Fey.'

The woman flinched, nodded. 'Yes, Master, steward of this House, Master. Please… I don't understand. Forgive my confusion, Master, please…'

Carnelian gazed at those eyes. It was almost as if this woman had stolen them from his father. He paused a moment, thinking, and then reached back to release his mask.

Fey threw her hands up in horror. 'Master, would you blind us all?'

'But we're all of one House… I'm Suth Carnelian.' He realized that the woman might find his face no proof at all. Suddenly he made a fist and cried, 'Look.' He thrust out his hand so that the woman could see the Ruling Ring on his hand.

Fey leaned forward, choked a cry and crumpled into the pebbles. 'Master,' she said from Carnelian's feet, 'oh, Master.'

Carnelian crouched down and putting his hands round Fey's shoulders lifted her gently. It was only then he saw the tears striping her face.

'Are you so happy, Fey?'

'Of course happy, Master, but also I grieve for our Master, your father.'

Carnelian shook the woman. 'When did the news come? When did it come?'

'News… news?' spluttered Fey. The ring, Master, the ring.'

Carnelian let her go. He looked at the Ruling Ring on his finger. Would that finger soon be its proper place? He held his head at his stupidity. There had been no time for any news. 'I'm a fool,' he said aloud.

Fey was dabbing tears from her eyes. The guardsmen looked miserable. These strangers were also his people. He was forgetting his duty to them.

'I'm sorry, Fey. You misunderstood me.' He removed the Ruling Ring. 'I don't have the right to wear it. It's a long story. My father was ill when I parted from him in the Valley of the Gate. The Wise'll heal him and then we'll have him back here with us.'