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and the dancing boys were starting to ply their business outside the eating halls. Well away from the street parties, a less rowdy and more decorous banquet was underway in Priam’s cream and gold palace in the heart of Carlon.
    The banquet hall of the palace, popularly known as the Chamber of the Moons, was a massive circular affair that doubled as an audience chamber on ordinary days of the week. Great alabaster columns supported a soaring domed roof, enamelled in a gorgeous deep bluewith gold and silver representations of the moon in the various phases of its monthly cycle floating amid myriad begemmed stars (thus the popular sobriquet). The floor was equally spectacular—deep emerald-green marble shot through with veins of gold.
    Tonight the floor was hardly visible beneath the dozens of tables crammed into the chamber, and (as yet) no-one was drunk enough to be lying in such a position as to stare straight towards the magnificent domed roof. On the side of the chamber, directly opposite the entrance, was the slightly raised dais, where Priam normally sat to receive whoever had come calling, but which tonight supported the royal table. Priam was there with his immediate family (of whom not many were left), and the most important nobles of the realm with their wives. Jayme, Brother-Leader of the Seneschal, enjoyed a spot not far from the centre of the table and was, despite the grim news from the north, determined to enjoy the banquet until he could discuss developments more privately with Priam.
    Immediately below the royal party was a large table seating the sons and daughters of the highest nobles. From there the tables spread across the floor of the Chamber of the Moons with the least important guests cramped around rickety tables in the dim recesses behind the grand circle of columns.
    Faraday, eighteen-year-old daughter of Earl Isend of Skarabost, sat soaking up the atmosphere with her intelligent green eyes. As she had only turned eighteen a half-year previously, this was the first time she had been invited to one of the grand royal banquets; indeed, this was the first time she had even been to Carlon. Although Faraday had not been raised in court, she was far from being out of her social and cultural depth. Her mother, Merlion, had spent years training her in the rituals and etiquette of court society, while the girl’s own natural wit and composure gave her the skills to hold her own in most courtly company. Pleasant conversation notwithstanding, Faraday’s green eyes, chestnut hair and fine bone structure held the promise of such great beauty that she had already caught the speculative eye of a number of young nobles seeking well-bred and wealthy wives.
    Beside her sat her new friend, Devera, twenty-year-old daughter of Duke Roland the Walker. Devera had a blue-eyed, fair-haired prettiness that Faraday thought extraordinarily appealing.
    Faraday leaned close to Devera, hoping that the intricate knot of her heavy hair, held together with only small pins of pearls and diamonds, would not tumble down. “Everyone looks so beautiful, Devera,” she whispered, unable to completely hide her excitement. Her eyes slipped to the goblet of watered wine she held. Its golden cup was encrusted with small diamond chips. Noble she might have been, but Faraday was still young enough to be impressed by the extreme wealth and ostentation of Priam’s court.
    Devera smiled at Faraday. She remembered how she had felt when she first came to court two years ago, but she was not going to let Faraday know that. “You should try and look more bored, Faraday. If people suspect you are in awe of them they will seek to take advantage of you.”
    Faraday looked up from the goblet, her green eyes serious now. “Oh, Devera, surely you have read Artor’s words in the Book of Field and Furrow? Taking advantage of people is not the Artor-fearing way.” Besides teaching Faraday the courtly graces, Merlion had also made sure her daughter