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sight of their faces again, but the prince’s tone froze him fast. He sat down again. The talk was too quiet at first, but then came the crash of someone stamping on the floor. ‘Of course. What of it?’
    A bark of angry laughter and more words that Berren couldn’t hear.
    ‘Leave? Why would I do that? They can all get along quite nicely without me. They’ve all made that perfectly clear and I don’t see why I should …’ The prince stopped. The other man’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. Berren stood up, moved closer, tilted his heard trying to hear. They were talking too quietly, though. Even when he stood up on his bench, each rustle of leaves smothered the whispered words. Something about the Emperor and an heir and the prince going back to Varr, that was all he could make out.
    The prince gave a heavy sigh. He walked to the window and suddenly he was right over Berren’s head. ‘Why, Elmarc? Why do they want me ?’ He laughed now. ‘Me, of all people? I’ll be no good for her at all.’
    More words that Berren couldn’t hear and then there was a long pause. When the prince spoke again, his voice was choked and quiet and Berren couldn’t hear either of them any more. Finally there were more footsteps and the door opened. There was a snort. ‘You never did anything wrong by me, cousin,’ said the voice that wasn’t the prince. ‘A good few other people maybe, but not by me. I’m all for gathering another band and going back up north and hunting that white-skinned bastard into his grave. Just let’s take a sorcerer of our own with us next time, eh?’
    Berren heard the door close. After a bit, he saw the tall figure of Ser Elmarc walk out into the yard and away into the bulk of the Watchman’s Arms. For the rest of the night, he heard the prince toss and turn and pace the floor and mutter to himself. At dawn, when Master Fennis came down to send Berren on his way, the prince was still awake.

5
A BOWL OF PORRIDGE
     
    T he dragon-monks didn’t come that day but the news spread like a fire through the temple once Berren let slip they were at Bedlam’s Crossing. Even the most demure novices struggled to keep their excitement in check. Berren had the unusual pleasure of sitting quietly at the front of Teacher Sterm’s class, watching The Worm’s cane flick out at other people for a change.
    ‘They’re in the city,’ Master Sy told him that evening as they sat in the scent garden. ‘I imagine they’ll arrive at the temple gates exactly as they open. At dawn.’
    Which was when Berren was supposed to be there, except he was always late. This once, though, this once he’d be there when he was supposed to be and he’d see them! Full of himself, he started to tell Master Sy what he’d overheard the night before, all full of questions about what it might mean. He’d just passed the bit where the prince had sent his ladies away when Master Sy put a finger to his mouth and slowly shook his head.
    ‘You didn’t hear anything, lad.’
    Berren stopped. He frowned, puzzled. ‘What?’
    ‘You were dreaming, lad. Nodded off and imagined it.’ He gave a pointed look back towards the arch into the moonpool yard. Two soldiers were still on guard. ‘I’m sure if Ser Elmarc and His Highness were talking, they wouldn’t have been talking loudly enough for anyone to hear them.’
    ‘But …’ Master Sy’s glare cut him off.
    ‘Don’t make the same mistake, boy.’
    ‘What? I don’t …’
    ‘Oh for the love of Khrozus!’ The thief-taker rolled his eyes. His voice dropped. ‘If anyone was standing by an open window having a conversation, they probably didn’t mean for anyone else to hear it. That mistake. Don’t make that mistake, the one where you have a conversation you don’t want anyone to hear when you can’t see who’s actually listening! Emperor Ashahn has sat on the Sapphire Throne for twelve years. His first heir was born on the first day of this year. Heh!’ For a moment, he