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could.
    The gates were still closed when she arrived, but there were many people waiting there already, the crush somewhat impeded by the late travellers who had decided they would save valuable time in the morning by sleeping there, and, such had been the gaiety of the night previous, could be neither awakened nor moved. But Katriona was among the first few hundred through and out upon a great dazzle of lawn. She had never seen grass so smooth and beautiful; it distracted her from the tall poles garlanded with ribbons and flowers, the vast white tents with the royal banner flying from their peaks, the beautiful liveries of those who were moving slowly over the platform where the rows of lavishly decorated tables for the court were placed. (This stage was high enough so that even sitting down no courtier or peer would be shorter than the tallest member of a crowd which might be standing on its feet and straining for a glimpse of its betters.) At the centre stood a taller platform where the princess’ cradle stood, almost invisible among the gold and the lavender and the rosettes.
    But she came to herself as she was jostled by the rush of people behind her, and made a dart toward the barrier that stood a few feet out from the court tables. The barrier was made of mere rope and ribbons, draped from narrow white posts, but its purpose was made clear by the guards that stood behind it. Although the guards themselves looked perhaps more ornamental than practical, still, guards were guards, and there were swords hanging from the gorgeous belts that crossed the splendid livery. The crowd looked at them, and steadied a little.
    People began to find where they would sit down, the first-comers pleased with themselves and resistant to inroads by late-comers. More royal guards appeared to sort out disagreements before they became heated.
    Katriona found herself a corner of an aisle close enough to the barrier to count the gems in the hilt of the sword of the guardsman nearest her and the ruches in the tablecloth of the nearest court table. She heard commotion ebb and flow in the empty aisle beside her and then a large bare leg and foot planted itself next to her. She was eye level with the backward sweep of an unsheathed sword that swung by the leg. Lord Prendergast had a dress sword he sometimes wore—sheathed—at fetes and things, but it was straight, like those of the guards behind the barrier; this one was curved, and, more important, only about half a hand’s-breadth distant. She was rather preoccupied with its nearness, for the first time thinking that as a small young woman alone she was vulnerable to displacement by larger rowdier elements. She observed that the bare leg was bare only to just below the knee, and then, rather more reassuringly, that the curiously wrapped and looped trousers disappeared toward the waist under a livery coat similar to those the guards were wearing.
    The man she looked up at was probably not so tall as he seemed, standing next to her as she sat on the ground. His arms were crossed, and he was scowling, and she glanced over her shoulder at a group of young men, their colour somewhat heightened, looking at the sabre-bearer and visibly changing their minds about coming any farther. The sabre-bearer was directly beside her, as if it were she he was specially guarding.
    The sabre seemed to whistle past her ear as the man turned and bent over her. She flinched. He was bald as well as bare-foot, and his skin was a deep, shining grey-brown, rather like wet shale. He gazed down at her, and while he was still scowling, he no longer looked angry but puzzled. Katriona wanted to say, I am no one, I am no one from that no-place, the Gig, because his gaze seemed to be trying to make her into someone; but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. He straightened up, his eyes moving away from her and toward the dais, and she watched as his line of sight rose, and she could guess he was now looking at the