It was a fairly traditional arrangement found in all the old cities of the Terrarchs. All of the buildings were gigantic, and had a curiously decayed look. Their upkeep was patchy at best but they had been built to intimidate, and they performed that function still. The sheer size of them spoke of the permanence and power of Terrarch rule. Humans had never built anything so big or so beautiful. For all their size they had a loveliness of line that moved the heart. In niches in the walls, enormous statues of Terrarch saints and dragon-riders and heroes gazed down upon the living, dwarfing them, reminding them of who ruled this world, and why.

Beside Rik, Asea sat garbed in formal courtly attire. Her hair was piled high revealing her pointed ears. Subtle makeup accentuated her large eyes, high cheekbones and broad-lips. The price of the jewelled Elder Signs around her throat could have fed the whole crowded square for a week. Rik studied them with the interest of a former professional thief. In his earlier life he would never have believed it possible he could be sitting so close to a queen's ransom and yet have no designs to steal it. How things change, he thought.

"Nervous?" Asea asked. She sounded like a bright young woman going to her first ball, not the two thousand year old near-immortal she in fact was. Her constant shifts of mood and image were hard for him to grasp. He had expected a formidable being set in her ways, not this mercurial personality. He suspected that if you dug deep enough you would find that truesteel core, but she was adept at hiding it. He supposed she had enough time to practise that.

"No," he lied. He had been less nervous on nights when he had risked his life on a big theft or before a battle. Today, he was going to be ritually presented to Princess Kathea, now formally in residence in her Palace and awaiting the high holy day of her coronation, and he was uncomfortably aware that she, even more than Asea, was in a position to change his life. She could grant him rewards beyond the wildest imaginings of a street boy from Sorrow.

He ran his mind over the rituals Asea's Master of Etiquette had taught him. He knew exactly how close he should come to the royal presence and exactly how deeply he should bow. He knew he was not to raise his face until the Queen-to-be told him he could look upon her countenance. He was certain he knew what he was doing. He had a good memory for such things. He had been told he could keep wearing his sword. It was a mark of special favour for a half-breed like him. He supposed the future Queen must trust him. After all, if he had wanted her dead, he could have killed her at any time during their long trek back to Morven after their escape from the Serpent Tower.

"You look very handsome," said Asea. He ought to.