‘You all right, Serrah?’ Disgleirio called out.

‘Yes,’ she replied, cold as ice. ‘Perfectly.’

Kutch and Quinn exchanged a look.

The audience had begun to applaud and cheer the moment Kinsel walked on stage.

He was in excellent voice, and every song drew a thunderous response. The crowd was enchanted, roused, transported by the music. His lays of chivalry stirred their blood, and the lyrical ballads brought them to sweet melancholy. He led them into shadow and back to the light, by way of wonderment. The purity of his singing inspired rapture and tears.

His most appreciative audience was in the wings. Tanalvah, with Teg in her arms and Lirrin clutching her skirt, stood entranced. Every so often, Kinsel favoured them with surreptitious smiles and winks.

He had scoured orphanages and foundling workhouses to choose each member of the chorus himself. His diligence, and days of rehearsal, had paid off. They shadowed him perfectly, snug as a silk glove on a rich woman’s hand. Swarms of glamoured sound boosters, made to look like birds or bloated, unseasonable wasps, drifted above the crowd relaying the music to every corner, as distinct as it was to those in the front row.

At last Rukanis reached the climax of his repertoire with songs of great deeds. His voice soared as he intoned fables of gallantry and unrequited love. And the bronze statues on either side of the dais came to glamoured life.

To the left, the conquering hero stretched as though from a long sleep. The enemies he had downed rose too, and battle recommenced. On the right, the warrior awoke, his horse rearing. The monster’s tentacles lashed and contorted and a thrust of the champion’s spear caused yellow ichor to spurt from the creature’s scaly flesh. It wasn’t to Kinsel’s taste, but it was a crowd-pleaser.

As he drew to a close, a magically generated rainbow arched over the heads of the audience, its hues more vivid than Nature’s own. It looked solid, as though a multicoloured bridge had been thrown across the breadth of the park. As thousands craned to see, a network of jagged cracks appeared on the rainbow’s surface. Then it began to crumble. Red, blue and green chunks came away, breaking up into even smaller fragments as they fell. The people below cried out, and many covered their heads. But what showered down on them was an abundance of flowers. Beautiful, radiantly coloured blooms of every imaginable genus. Within seconds of falling they transmuted into a froth of minute golden stars and returned to nothingness. Only their exquisite perfume lingered.

Kinsel brought his last song to a booming, triumphant finish. The crowd roared. They rained the stage with real flowers, singly and in bouquets and bunches. People chanted his name and let off dazzling red and white glamour flares. They whistled, clapped and released synthetic doves, shiny as platinum.

Grinning, he took his bows and retreated.

In the wings, Tanalvah and the children clustered round and hugged him.

‘You were wonderful,’ she said.

‘I was?’ He looked slightly bewildered, as though the possibility had never entered his head. ‘Truly?’

‘

Yes

. It was an amazing performance. A

great

performance.’ She showed good-natured annoyance. ‘Oh, Kinsel, sometimes

I…If you don’t believe me, listen to

them

.’ The clamour from the audience still hadn’t died down. She smiled warmly. ‘Now get out there and bow some more.’

He kissed her cheek and went back on.

One person in the cheering crowd took no notice of his reappearance. Standing near the front, Serrah was watching two men as they elbowed towards the stage. They were dressed almost identically in blacks and greys, and they were armed with matching swords. But it wasn’t only that. It was something about their bearing and the way they moved. It was the set of their faces, and their darting, alert eyes. She had an instinct about them, and had learned to trust her instincts.

The men reached the stage and made for a gap at its side that led to the tent at the rear. There were guards at the entrance, but after a few words they stood aside. The men went in.

Serrah began pushing through the crowd to follow them.

Backstage, things were even more chaotic than before the concert. Musicians, choristers and the rest had been joined by hangers-on, well-wishers and VIPs with their entourages.

Kinsel loosened his collar and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead. Tanalvah had one eye on the children, whose excitement was beginning to shade into boredom.

‘You know,’ Kinsel ruminated, ‘I just might do this again.’

‘Good. I thought you’d enjoy it once it was over.’

He laughed. ‘I think you’re getting to know me too well, my love.’

An assistant approached. ‘Master Rukanis, sir? As you instructed, we’re letting through some of the people who want to meet you. Could you do it now?’

‘I’d love to. Want to come along, Tan?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll stay here with these two. They’re getting a little cranky.’ Teg and Lirrin turned butter-wouldn’t-melt, angelic faces up to her.

Kinsel went off with the assistant. ‘It would have been nice to meet as many people as want to meet me,’ he lamented.

‘You’d be here for the rest of the week,’ the helper replied.

‘I know. But you’ve picked a representative group?’

‘As good a mix as we could find.’

At the far end of the tent, where there were two openings to the outside, a line of forty or fifty audience members was snaking in. They were as diverse as promised. Youths, elderly couples, middle-aged patrons of music, street beggars, parents with babes in arms. As soon as they saw Rukanis they started cheering.

Guards kept them in check as he stepped forward, smiling, to shake hands and converse. Scraps of parchment and glamoured graph-sticks were thrust at him. He signed his name in silver, gold and crimson, and wrote inscriptions for the excited, chattering group. Adolescent girls giggled as he autographed the backs of their hands. People tugged at his sleeves. Babies were lifted to have their cheeks pecked.

Two unsmiling men in dark clothing moved towards him through the crowd.

Tanalvah no more than half watched this from her elevated position at the back of the stage. Her attention was on the children.

‘When are we going home?’ Lirrin yawned. Her heavy-eyed young brother, propped against her, was beyond even grumbling.

‘Not long,’ Tanalvah promised, ruffling the girl’s hair. ‘Just as soon as Kinsel gets back.’

Serrah strode up to them.

‘Serrah! I’m so glad you came back. I wanted to say I’m sorry for-’

‘Don’t worry about that.’ She was scanning the lively scene inside the tent. ‘I think we might have a problem.’

At the look on Serrah’s face Tanalvah instinctively drew the children to her. ‘What is it? Is it Kinsel? Has something happened?’

‘It’s just a hunch.’ She looked down and saw Kinsel signing autographs and talking with admirers. ‘Those two.’ She pointed. ‘The ones dressed alike.’

‘In the black and grey? What about them?’

‘It could be nothing.’

‘If Kinsel’s in danger, he needs me.’

‘

No

. Stay where you are.’ Serrah’s tone forbade argument.

‘Is something bad going to happen to Kinsel?’ Lirrin piped up, sensing the adults’ alarm.

‘No, darling,’ Tanalvah assured her, almost calmly, ‘it’s all right.’ To Serrah she mouthed,

‘Isn’t it?’

Serrah didn’t answer.

They watched.

Kinsel finished signing his name for somebody and handed back the paper.

‘Kinsel Rukanis.’ It wasn’t a question, more a flat statement.

He looked up. Two men, clad darkly, stared at him. Their faces were sober. ‘Yes,’ he replied tentatively.

‘You’re going to do exactly what we tell you,’ one of them said. He spoke softly, but his manner was professional, and threatening.