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for a moment, but all too soon a fresh rabbit carcass had been dumped on my cloak. Rodden had looked pale and cheerless in the wan morning light and I didn’t bother to make conversation over our meal. It seemed the sight of the harming children had upset him as badly as it had me.
    The set of his shoulders was murderous as we rode into Ercan. I hoped the captain of the guard had his reports in order, or heads were about to roll.
    Ercan was another land-locked city but large and bustling compared to Rendine. It was just the sort of place where the homeless and orphaned could go missing with no one any the wiser.
    We rode straight to the guardhouse and Rodden shouldered the door open without a word. I thought we might have spruced ourselves up a bit first: after nearly a week in the saddle we looked rather scruffy, hardly the ideal look for the king’s envoy.
    Captain Verlin sat behind his desk, legs splayed, a churlish expression on his features as Rodden questioned him.
    ‘Nup. Nothin’ strange.’
    The muscles in Rodden’s jaw bunched. ‘It says here in your latest report that thirteen people died from miscellaneous causes.’
    ‘S’right.’
    ‘Would you care to elaborate?’
    Verlin shrugged, his eyes wandering around the room. ‘Old age.’
    The tension in the room, obvious to myself but clearly not to Verlin, was making me nervous. My nails were making crescent-marks in my palms.
    ‘Twelve were under twenty.’
    ‘Folks don’t live long round these parts. It’s the pollution. No sea air. Not like you fancy folk in the capital.’
    Rodden started taking off his gloves, one finger at a time. ‘Captain Vermin –’
    ‘Verlin.’
    ‘– I put it to you that you are a lazy, imbecilic, corrupt individual who is wasting my time and the king’s money.’
    Verlin ignored Rodden, his wandering eyes wandering over to me. He winked. ‘Such a pretty sister. Wouldn’t mind one of ’em of me own.’ He laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
    Rodden’s patience snapped and he reached over the desk and grabbed the captain by the scruff of his jacket.
    ‘Oi!’
    He marched Verlin out of the guardhouse past his guards, across the square and over to the stocks. I followed, fascinated and horrified at the same time. Surely he wouldn’t put the man in his own restraints?
    ‘Last chance, Vermin,’ Rodden said, the man still dangling by his uniform. ‘Any idea how those people died?’
    The captain said something rather uncomplimentary about donkeys and Rodden’s mother, and a few seconds later he found himself clapped in the stocks. He struggled as Rodden stripped the badges from his uniform. As Rodden strode away Verlin yelled, ‘Y’can’t do this! I’m the bleedin’ captain! Come back here, ya goat-swivin’ son of a donkey’s turd!’
    Rodden ignored the demoted captain. We approached the knot of guards that had gathered outside their headquarters, struck dumb by the sight of Verlin struggling in the stocks.
    ‘Question time, gentlemen. Who can tell me which orphanage in Ercan dresses its children in pale blue shirts?’
    After a moment, a young, sandy-haired soldier cautiously raised his hand. ‘Fallowood Home for Unfortunates.’
    Rodden tossed the soldier the captain’s badges. ‘Congratulations . . .?’
    ‘Sergeant Milson, sir.’
    ‘Milson. You’re the new captain. Take me to Fallowood, and bring two of your guards.’
    Milson looked rather startled at his sudden promotion, but did what he was told.

    Fallowood was in a seedy part of town, a dank, grey building nestled among the brothels and the less sanitary butchers’ shops. We picked our way down the narrow street, avoiding puddles of filth in the middle of the road. Toddlers ran about without their napkins, dirty marks down their legs. On their backs were pale blue shirts, just like the ones we’d seen on the harming children. This place was a far cry from the ‘glorious’ nation of Pergamia I’d heard so much