Columbine had been standing still behind the arras for so long her legs were burning. The water oozing across the floor of Lady Neave’s retiring room was doing nothing to cool them.

Lancelot did not stayed long after the daughter of the Lake started to weep. He assured the Lady he would ride off to find the child Galahad at once, and left the room. After that the Lady Neave had turned to the drink. Columbine had listened as the terrible lady sobbed her way through at least one, and possibly as many as three bottles of wine. And when the Lady of the Lake sobbed, she did not drop stray, casual tears; she created puddles that slopped across the floor. The girl from Vellion prayed to her gods that the door of the retiring room was not too flush to the floor, and that enough tears were leaking out onto the staircase to stop the place being submerged. She was lucky that her stupid shoes were so stupidly high, as they prevented her feet getting wet; she had heard something about water-magicians and their ability to hear the thoughts of others through water. She dreaded to think what would happen if the tears filled the room, and the Lady Neave became aware of her presence. She didn’t think the woman would take kindly to having had either her conversation with Lancelot, or the persistent drunken muttering against Lady Nemue overheard.

Music intermittently drifted through the window from below. It was faint, and could only be heard properly when the wind blew in a certain direction. Thus Columbine heard a fanfare, and a little later parts of a haunting song about love being a killer. After that, snatches of different tunes for dancing made their way up into the room until, after two hours or so, a great alarm interrupted the festivities. It began with a single horn from far, far below, which seemed to resonate through the side-tower. Soon it was joined by bells, trumpets, a great clamour of voices in the courtyards and gardens, and booted feet running up and down the stairs outside the retiring room.

It was only when the noise reached its peak that it attracted Lady Neave’s curiosity. The lady collected herself and make her way to the door. The door opened, shifting a wave of water back across the room. The daughter of the Lake went out onto the stairs. Columbine gave the witch a moment to come back in, and, when she did not, made a break for it, throwing the arras to one side and racing for the door.

Once outside she smoothed down her scarlet dress as much as she could, and made her way down the stairs of the side-tower. She half-expected Sir Garlon to be waiting for her, but there was no sign of the Knight Invisible, although that was no guarantee he wasn’t there. She crossed the slim bridge that connected the side-tower to the central thrust of the castle, and looked into the grounds. There was utter confusion in the torchlight: lords, ladies, knights and King Pellam’s servants ran this way and that.

‘My lady? What are you doing my lady?’

A handsome young guard was crossing the bridge towards her from the central tower.

‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep,’ said Columbine. She giggled in imitation of the kind of girl she didn’t like very much. ‘I fear I had too much to drink at the feast, and now I’m lost.’ She pretended to stagger and reached out to the guard for support. He caught her arm gladly. Columbine hated pretending to be stupid; the only comfort it offered was in showing up how easily fooled other people were, particularly men. ‘Tell me: have I just come from the first side-tower or the second?’

‘The second, my lady.’

‘That explains why I had such difficulty finding my chamber. But what is all this terrible noise about?’

‘You won’t believe it, my lady. The champion of the lower lists and some girl-bard have just tried to steal King Pellam’s spear. Shall I take you to your chamber? The bandits are loose in the castle somewhere; it might be not safe for you.’

‘What an ungrateful thing for a champion to do,’ she said, bristling inwardly at his assumption that she could not defend herself. ‘After he’s just been knighted by King Pellam as well. I would never have thought Sir, Sir, Sir – do you know, I’ve forgotten his name, or I never heard it; one of the two.’

‘Sir Balin, madam.’

‘What a terrible, stupid thing for Sir Balin to do. He must be quite a brute.’

‘Aye, so they say.’

Columbine allowed him to escort her to the entrance of the second side-tower, and although he was keen to take her all the way to her chamber door, she shamed him into returning to his duties. She watched the guard walk away, hiding the knife she had stolen from his belt in the folds of her dress.

‘Balin, you ruddy fool,’ she muttered to herself.

* * *

Her ridiculous scarlet dress and high shoes made it a simple matter to lose herself in the confusion down in the castle grounds. Although the dancing had resumed in the great hall, King Pellam’s guards continued to run around searching for the two intruders who had tried to steal the castle’s most treasured possession. As ever, when there was fighting in prospect, or more accurately the hope of a reward, the younger knights had also joined the search, which meant that several young ladies were now without dancing partners. Columbine wandered through the groups of girls as they milled about distractedly. The soldiers and the knights were disappearing around the far side of the revolving tower. To get a better sense of what was happening, she joined a breakaway group of girls who had decided to hunt out Sir Beaumains, who, one of the girls said, looked even more attractive than normal now that he wore bruises from the lower lists.

The busiest areas of activity were the guarded ramps that disappeared below the main tower. Knights wandered back and forth up these ramps with their dress swords drawn, while the trident-bearing sentries had faces on them that suggested they would rather be in bed than dealing with the disturbance. It was clear from the way the men were going about that Balin, Elia, or both of them were still at large within the castle. Columbine had a feeling that Balin was still free. She didn’t know where that feeling came from, but she felt it strongly. Her problem was how to get past the guards in order to go looking for him, especially wearing her silly dress. There were only so many times she could claim that she was lost and looking for her rooms.

As they went further around the tower, the other girls became keen to get back to the warmth of the great hall. Columbine urged them on with the idea that Sir Beaumains would be gratified that they had risked encountering the intruders in order to see him at his work. Eventually, however, the most sarcastic of the girls, a tall one called Maledisant, ordered them to turn back. Columbine told the others that the ties on her shoes were coming loose, and that she would catch them up.

They had come as far as the entrance of a third ramp, one that she thought was half way around the tower, at the rear of the great hall. Because of its distance from the main parts of the castle this one was less busy than the others. There were two trident-bearing guards, both looking down into the darkness for people trying to get out from below, rather than trying to prevent anyone from getting in. That was where they were, then. She had to get down there. She felt around the ground for a loose cobblestone, and used the knife she had stolen from the guard on the bridge to prise one out.

The first guard didn’t know what had hit him. The stone cracked him on the head, and he crumpled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The second guard was slightly more aware. His comrade’s sudden collapse jolted him out of his bored observation of the darkness below.

‘What the?’ he said, as he turned to see the girl in the scarlet dress with the rock in her hand.

Columbine pointed towards castle walls. ‘Someone threw it from over there.’

That was enough to distract him. He glanced towards the walls and Columbine smashed him on the side of the head with the stone. He tottered on his feet for just a moment, before his trident clattered to the ground and he went sprawling in the moonlight.

Something moved in the darkness of the ramp. Someone was running towards her. Columbine grabbed the second guard’s trident and pointed it at the advancing figure, bracing herself for a fight with another guard or a knight. When the torchlight hit Elia’s face Columbine summoned strength to her arm, and made ready to run the girl through.

The bard’s feet pattered to a halt. She raised her hands, imploring Columbine not to strike the killing blow. ‘Stop, stop, stop there.’

‘What have you done with Balin?’ growled Columbine.

‘Nothing, nothing, I was trying to help him – to help you.’

‘By tricking him into a fool’s errand, and stirring up the whole castle after him? That’s your idea of help?’

‘By fulfilling the inscription on your bloody bone sword, and getting him the most powerful weapon in the castle. That kind of help.’

The little bard looked sincere, but Columbine hadn’t trusted her on the road.

‘Where is he now?’

‘I don’t know. They were celebrating as if they’d got him; but he’s lost them again somehow. They’re still searching.’ Elia pointed to the first guard Columbine had struck, who was beginning to stir. ‘Look, if you’re going to run me through, do it now and get after your friend. If not, I’m going to go past and get over that wall.’ She pointed to the high wall on the far side of the gardens.

‘You’re going to abandon him?’ said the girl of Vellion.

‘I’m sorry, but what I’vegot to do is more important than your thing. If you’re going to go after him, there’s a passage about halfway down that leads onto a gallery around the basilica. I suggest you go that way, rather than down to the main floor.’

The girl’s arrogant assumption that her business was more important than theirs infuriated Columbine. She raised the trident to the bard’s chest.

They stared at each other across the length of the weapon. Just one strong shove and Columbine would end the little spy’s life. It would be a service to put Breuse Saunce Pité’s magpie out of the world. Columbine’s hand shook on the shaft of the trident.

Elia didn’t so much as blink. She reached up with her small, strong hand, and touched the left fork of the trident. Very gently, she pushed it away from her chest.

‘Fair enough?’ asked the bard.

Columbine’s only reply was a curt nod. As the little bard ran past her into the open air, the girl from Vellion wondered if she had made a terrible mistake.

The first guard groaned and touched the back of his head where she had hit him. There wasn’t a moment to lose. She brought the blunt end of the trident sharply down on him, lifted her skirts, and ran down the ramp. Soon she was enveloped in darkness.