The indigo above was growing blue. Carnelian looked south-west to where a mountainous buttress of the Sacred Wall hid the next coomb. He followed the wall's sweep round to the Valley of the Gate. There he watched turquoise begin to seep into the edge of the lake as if the colour were flooding out from the valley. The brightening crept across the lake to the Ydenrim and then up to reveal emeralds sparked with amber. Sunrise now lit the Pillar to its foot and speared its shadow back across the lake. Fire spread over the Labyrinth mound, caught on the flank of the Plain of Thrones. The sun's disc melting up from the Sacred Wall forced him to quit the roof for fear of it tainting his skin with its gold.

Carnelian grew solemn as he climbed back into the chamber. Today he would have to face his kin. The smell of sleep was coming off his body, but he did not feel like braving a shivering waterfall. Besides, the day's meetings were bound to require a formal cleansing and that required servants. He looked round for something to throw on. He wandered through several chambers but they were empty of everything but the echoes of his footfalls. Eventually he was forced to return to the small chamber in which he had slept in preference to the vast bedchamber Fey had given him. He removed the broken pieces of the jade spiral from inside his mask. When he lifted the hollow face he saw the letter that had been put under it. He stared at the perfectly folded, creamy rectangle. He picked it up and smelled its rich waft of attar of roses. Its wax seal bore the circular impression of a blood-ring. He broke it open. The parchment had only two panels. At first the glyphs looked strange. They were unlike the ones he or his father would make. He used the faces to gauge the differences in the style as his father had taught him. Soon the pictures were forming the sounds in his mind.

Sardian, you are returned. Your mother's eyes are impatient to behold you though they have so patiently waited out the years. Come, mount the steps. There is much that you must know.

He looked again at the ring of glyphs and numbers in the wax. It was as he had thought. There beside the Suth chameleon was the glyph 'Urquentha', his grandmother's name. He frowned. What had made her think that he was his father? He read it again then, folding it carefully, tucked it into the mask. He picked up the green robe. Its odour of lilies made him hurl it into a corner. Instead, he secured the feather blanket round his waist, picked up the mask and walked off to open the outer door.

A procession of pillars held back the shadow from an avenue that led off to a vague archway. He stopped to listen. Only birdsong embroidered the silence. He stepped into the hall, spreading his foot down over cool stone. He walked towards the grey courtyard.

When he reached its edge he looked across its fish-scale cobbles to the distant gates. The raised portico running round it was still in darkness. A flight of steps that led down to the cobbles was flanked by tripod urns of mossy bronze. He noticed a figure hunched on the end of one of the steps and padded towards it. When he was near he stretched out and touched it lightly on the shoulder.

The figure jumped to its feet and whisked round.

'Master…' it gulped. It was Fey, eyes wide, her hand pressed over her chest.

'Forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you,' said Carnelian.

Fey shook her head, panting, made uncomfortable by the apology and the glare of so much white skin. 'Master, I was waiting for you. I've taken the liberty of having some breakfast prepared.' She indicated a low table set between two columns, overlooking the courtyard. 'I've also sent for servants of all the different kinds so that the Master might choose a household for himself.'

'My own people will form my household.'

She darted a look of hope at him. 'Did you bring them all back with you, Master?'

Carnelian remembered his people blanketing the quay as he sailed away. The memory seemed from someone else's childhood. As he shook his head free of it, he noticed Fey looking at him anxiously. He smoothed his frown and even found a smile. 'We were forced to leave most of them behind. Ships will already have been sent to fetch them.'

'Ships…?' Fey stared off as if she could see their sails tiny in the distance.

Carnelian frowned. 'Are you telling me that you didn't know where we were?'

Fey pulled her eyes back into focus. There were rumours, Master.'

Carnelian pondered this.

Those you did bring with you, Master, will take more than thirty days to come through the quarantine. Until they come through…'

Carnelian thought of Tain, frightened and alone, arid of Keal and the others somewhere coming up the long, long road from the sea.

Fey gave an uncertain smile as she again indicated the breakfast table. 'I'm getting old and foolish, Master. I should've brought servants, garments…' She looked confused. 'I don't really know what I'm doing.' Her eyes dropped to her feet.

'Did you want to talk to me, Fey?' When the woman looked up at him he could see her need for news. He walked round her towards the table. 'It was thoughtful of you to arrange this. I'd very much like to break my fast while the air's still cool.'

He stood in front of the table. The dishes and bowls seemed to inlay the table like jewels. He thought of his people on the island, abandoned to famine. Fey moved a stool and he sank cross-legged onto it, putting his mask down carefully on the floor. Fey knelt beside him and began to serve the food. Carnelian put a hand on her arm to stop her. This is beneath you… aunt.'

She ducked her head to hide a blush. 'You're the son of… of the Ruling Lord,' she said through her hair. 'Nothing that I can do for you is beneath me.'

Then you'll eat with me.'

Fey looked up with her mouth hanging open.

There's no point in looking like that,' said Carnelian, trying to make her smile. 'It'll give me no pleasure to eat while you fuss around me. I'm not used to it.'

Fey looked at him as if she could not understand what he was saying.

'Sit there,' Carnelian said gently. 'I'd like your company.' He looked away when the woman awkwardly sat down, trying to save her more embarrassment. Carnelian picked up a box, opened it and offered it to her. Fey took one of the thin discs of bread as if she were being offered poison.

'Where will my father be now, Fey?'

'But, Master, you told me yourself that he was with the Wise.'

'Yes, but where would they have taken him?' To the Isle.'

The God Emperor… he's gone to see the God Emperor.'

Fey made the sign of the horns and ducked an obeisance. The Gods are in the Sky.' She gazed up between the columns.

Carnelian frowned, not sure what to make of the awe on her face. 'In the Sky?'

Fey came back to earth as she looked at him. The Master'll have climbed the Pillar… the Gods've gone up there to the Halls of Thunder, as your brethren, the other Masters of this House, have gone up to the Eyries.'

'You have my father's eyes,' said Carnelian.

Fey turned away as if trying to hide them from him. The better half of me is sister to the Master.'

'He told me to trust you.'. The words put tears in Fey's eyes. She dabbed at them. 'Please, Master, where's Brin?'

'Your sister had to be left behind.'

Fey's mouth twitched. 'Crail? He must be an old man by now?'

Carnelian looked down at his food, trying to find the words. He lifted his head. 'He's dead.'

Fey's face crumpled. She snatched a glimpse at his eyes. 'Grane?'

'We had to leave most of them…'

Carnelian could see by her face that she saw something of the conditions in which they had been left. She nodded slowly. 'Ebeny too?'

'She wouldn't come,' said Carnelian, biting his lip, hearing his voice betraying pain.