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it down to a mistake of some sort. Or possibly a light-fingered servant, naughty child or cheeky dog.’
    ‘Whose tables have you . . . sampled in this way?’ I asked, tackling some prawns.
    ‘Many different ones. And only those who can afford it.’
    ‘And the clothes in my room – did they come here in a similar way?’
    Luel shot me a wry look. ‘Yes. I must say, you must be feeling better, asking me questions like these.’
    I coloured a little. ‘I suppose I am.’ And I did feel lighter, as if the hope Luel had said I’d given had enteredmy own heart and mind. I took a first sip of sturgeon soup. ‘Why do you never call your lord by his name?’
    There was surprise in Luel’s face again as she gave me a long, searching look. ‘To protect him. He is still being sought. If I should ever say my lord’s name out loud, then . . .’
    ‘Then what?’
    ‘It might reach the wrong ears.’
    The way she spoke these words made me shiver. ‘But he calls you by your name. Wouldn’t that also –’
    ‘No, I am using my inner name here, not the name I was known by in the world. This one carries no echoes. And neither, at the moment, does yours, for different reasons.’
    ‘What are those reasons?’
    ‘They don’t know of your existence,’ she said simply. ‘And they won’t, unless . . .’
    ‘Unless what? Please, tell me. I have a right to know.’
    ‘Unless you make it so,’ she said quietly. ‘And I think you know what that means.’
    I swallowed. She meant if I tried to run away. But even though only a few hours ago that would have been uppermost in my mind, I was now more curious than frightened. ‘How long have you been here?’
    ‘Three years in clock-reckoning. Much longer if you count it in the relentless hours of my lord’s agony.’
    ‘And where are you from?’
    ‘I cannot tell you that for the same reason I cannot speak my lord’s name. If I were to speak the name of our home . . .’ Luel paused and I saw a flicker of sadness crossher face, ‘the feeling in it would alert them. We are not from this country. That is all I can say.’
    I was silent a moment, then I said, carefully, ‘What happened to your lord? Was it a curse?’
    ‘Yes. He crossed a powerful and very dangerous man.’ Her lips peeled back into a snarl. ‘Quite how dangerous, we did not know until it was too late and the spell was cast. I managed to halt the full workings of it and to whisk my lord away. But that is all I could do.’
    Suddenly, I didn’t feel hungry at all and pushed my plate away. ‘You said that your lord is still being – sought. Does that mean –’
    ‘Our enemy does not consider his revenge complete yet. It will not be complete until my lord is utterly destroyed.’ She spoke calmly, but her words chilled me to the bone.
    I whispered, ‘The crow this morning . . .’
    ‘It may be from him. It may not. I checked our defences again, and they have not been breached. But I still cannot take the chance.’
    I shivered. ‘Forgive me, Luel, for asking this, but you are a
feya
, are you not?’ She nodded in reply. ‘And you are connected to your lord by no ordinary bond.’
    ‘That is so. I’ve served the family for a long, long time. And I have known my lord for all of his twenty-one years, since the very day he was born.’
    Twenty-one, I thought, shocked. Why, the
abartyen
was only a few years older than me. To think that that terrible thing had happened to him when he was eighteen. A sharp pang went through me, a mixture of pity andhorror. ‘One of your kind is surely stronger than a mere human sorcerer,’ I said. ‘So why –’
    ‘There is no
mere
about it,’ Luel snapped. ‘Our enemy is most certainly no ordinary sorcerer. And yes, I’m what you people call a
feya
, but there are many grades and ranks of powers amongst us. Mine is only a small one.’
    My eyes widened. I waved a hand around. ‘But this place . . . it is your doing.’
    ‘Yes. So what? I have tried to keep my