Claire felt claustrophobic as their party and even the cart, Agea and Livia were dwarfed by narrow, tall houses and shopfronts, uneven cobblestones leading them on to the Maellwyn safe house. She’d hurriedly told the others about Marcus, but they were every bit as confused as she was as to why he was on the podium with Eidan. There was nothing for it but to find Bron and hope he could explain everything. Wooden footbridges criss-crossed overhead as they headed closer to the Teranth River again, along the way small stalls popping up run by old women, heads covered in dark shawls. Many of the women stared after Claire’s party, dull-eyed.

“We could afford nicer accommodation than Bron’s,” Gareth explained, “but we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves by purchasing a grand house, which would have been talked about.”

The stench of refuse, open sewers and old meat assaulted Claire’s nostrils as they turned onto a dark street where cracked signs swayed in the gentle breeze, advertising this apothecary or that grocer. Further down, the wooden houses had been built by the Teranth River’s edge, in front of which tiny rowboats were tied to wooden posts. A girl a few years younger than Claire leapt into her boat, full to the brim with stained brown packages, so that the prow bowed into the river at a dangerous angle, and began to row under a stone archway to the busy open water. No doubt the primary trade of such small boats was taking supplies and wares to the bigger boats.

Jemroth halted in front of the oldest, most ramshackle dwelling on the street. The windows were scratched and dirty and the wooden walls had been slapped together with little care so they bent at odd angles with gaps here and there.

On the right-hand side, a tiny shed had been added. Jemroth unhitched the horses and headed straight to the shed, muttering to them affectionately as he slipped a hand into his pocket to draw out a few slices of dried apple. Claire couldn’t help a grin as he fed the pair his treat. The man loved horses as much as she did.

Gareth signalled that Claire and Lotte should follow him to the front door, where he tapped a scratched bronze knocker. Claire couldn’t help but glance back at the shed where Jemroth had left Agea and Livia and now tugged the cart through the door, thrusting a large oilskin over it to shield it from view and from the elements. Though travelling inside hadn’t always been comfortable, she’d gotten used to its known quantity.

She forced herself to concentrate as the door opened.

“Come through, come through,” a man’s voice greeted them from inside, a dull navy cloak flung about his shoulders so that his features were hidden. “Quickly.”

Claire had barely put both feet over the black, dirt-stained threshold before the door slammed shut behind her. The man pulled back his cloak to reveal someone of about middle age with salt and pepper curls. His cheeks were ruddy and salt stained, but his brown eyes sparkled with sudden joy and in his smile, Claire could see a small likeness between him and Gareth. This had to be Bron.

“Thank goodness you came here straight away. The city’s a powder keg.”

“We know, and I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re mighty pleased to see you,” Gareth said, as Claire glanced about the bare room, noting it was bare but for a table and some rickety chairs at its centre and a set of steep stairs leading to the next level. “We got caught up in Rinn’s state funeral.”

“Take a seat,” Bron said, shaking his head. “The whole thing’s a bad business.”

Claire and Lotte followed Gareth to the table, already set with pewter tankards and a chipped jug. She peered inside to find a straw-coloured liquid, the same colour as the fine sand that lined the floor. She poured some in her tankard and took a cautious sip. She didn’t much like the taste, but it did send warmth shooting through her. The door scraped quietly as Jemroth slipped inside and joined them. He sat at the table with a smile, expelling an audible sigh of relief.

When everyone had poured themselves a drink, Bron folded his arms in front of him. “You’d best head straight home.”

“We can’t do that,” Claire said. Hadn’t Lord Maellwyn explained things to Bron in his letter? “Don’t you understand our urgency?”

“You must be Lady Claire,” he said smoothly. “Lord Maellwyn was not foolish enough to commit everything to paper. He merely told me you needed to come as part of Gwenivere’s prophecy, but Kelnarium isn’t in terrible need yet and surely whatever you need to do isn’t so important you’d risk everything to stay?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Claire said, realising Bron didn’t know about Gwenivere’s second prophecy. “I was summoned to Kelnarium because Gwenivere foresaw that the Rift will explode this year unless I can close it. If that’s not Kelnarium’s greatest hour of need, I don’t know what is.” Bron’s face turned a sickly grey but he didn’t interrupt her as she pushed on. “And I can’t do it alone. I need Gareth and Jemroth to use their magic, but I also need my brother, Marcus, too. We need all four elemental Houses and—”

“Wait,” said Bron, looking disbelieving. “Did you say all four Houses? How, when there are no survivors of House Domain or House Ushanan?”

Jemroth cleared his throat, leaning forward to show the metal disc dangling from his neck. “Lord Maellwyn rescued me from the battlefield thirty years ago and rebadged me a Maellwyn, but I am of House Domain. I apologise for the lie.”

Bron stared at him in surprise.

“And we think Marcus is part House Ushanan through my grandmother, Lady Dorran,” Claire continued impatiently. “So, you see, we can’t leave Kelnariat without him.”

Bron wiped sweat from his brow, and Claire knew he was about to deliver bad news. Her imagination jumped to Marcus in danger and she took a drink to steady herself.

“The Nereus have mercy on me for being the bearer of such ill tidings, but Marcus is one of them now,” he said.

Claire blinked, then rubbed at both ears, sure she’d misheard. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

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Bron turned pitying eyes her way. “Him and Eidan are thick as thieves. He’s by Eidan’s side at every public event, usually ones criticising magical brethren. And what’s more, he’s proud to be there.”

Claire felt her mouth drop. She couldn’t deny the truth of Bron’s words. Hadn’t she and the others seen Marcus at Rinn’s funeral a mere hour or so ago? He hadn’t looked bothered standing beside Kelnarium’s leader. Her stomach lurched.

“How long has this been going on?” Gareth demanded. “The anti-magic stuff, I mean.”

Bron thought for a moment. “About a week after Marcus showed in Kelnariat, things heated up, for he and Eidan have been profuse in their harsh criticism of Lord Dorran and his entire House.”

“You can’t be suggesting Marcus was the one behind Eidan’s change in attitude towards us?” stated Claire, incredulous. It’s impossible, she thought. But then she remembered how everyone in Dorran House had said Marcus hadn’t fitted in. There must have been a misunderstanding and Marcus must have been angry and upset when he met Eidan, and whoever had been in Eidan’s ear had gotten inside Marcus’s too. Nothing else made sense.

Before she could say so, she heard the door open for a third time. She swivelled around to see a feminine figure in a brown skirt and a stiff white yoked shirt, a long navy coloured veil framing her heart-shaped face and covering her hair.

“Ah, my wife,” Bron said, filling another cup. “When she’s not attending to business, she’s got her ear to the ground for Lord Maellwyn.”

Gareth had mentioned his cousin meeting a rich woman, though she didn’t look wealthy with her plain spun cotton clothing. Claire watched her cross to Bron’s side. She pulled the wimple back to reveal lustrous brown curls. Bron stretched out a hand to cover hers where she rested it on the wood. “My clever Alaya, what news today?”

Gareth and Jemroth’s eyes widened. It took a Claire a second to understand why, but then she remembered. Alaya was the name of Eidan’s ex-girlfriend. Yet neither Gareth or Jemroth had mentioned her being the same person Bron had married. She exchanged knowing looks with Lotte. She’d bet hard coin and a few precious Dorran salamanders into the bargain that the Maellwyns hadn’t known about Bron’s liaison with someone so closely affiliated with Eidan. She suppressed a shiver. Hopefully Bron knew what he was doing.

“The public funeral of Rinn Taccala has set everyone upside down,” Alaya replied. “First, the villages and farms destroyed and now knowledge that the magical brethren turn on their own? It’s no surprise to me that fewer and fewer speak kindly of your kind and those that would fear reprisal. Soon, we shall have no allies left in the city.” Her beautiful blue eyes darted about the table. “Is this Lord Gareth and his party?”

“Yes.” Bron quickly introduced everyone and filled his wife in on what they’d discussed so far. Claire could see Gareth was just as uneasy as she was, his eyes narrowing as they locked with Alaya’s.

“Do you know who’s behind Eidan’s sudden change of heart towards magical users? His actions don’t make any sense. Someone has to be using him for their own ends, but what are they?” Claire asked, eager to dispel the negative undercurrents in the room. “It sounded like you thought it was my brother earlier, Bron.”

“Not necessarily. For one thing, the little jibes against magic began before Marcus arrived in Kelnarium; Eidan’s soldiers diced in the popular taverns and made small comments, or gossiped at market stores, which was worse, for shopkeepers spread it around faster than soldiers could. Council servitors talked of a changed mood in the building, and there were public comments against the Dream Mages from Wallis and Heath, though I took little notice of them, for they have long bleated to Eidan about a desire to return to the days of Selk. No, this began before Marcus.”

“But with who?” mused Gareth as Claire slumped back into her chair. “Eidan was a dear friend, not just Kelnarium’s leader.”

Bron exchanged a tired look with Alaya. “We don’t know. It doesn’t matter how often I pump my contacts for information or Alaya flings coin and ale everywhere, no one can say what caused Eidan’s change in policy. We have almost started to believe that he has turned on magic of his own volition.”

“That’s absurd,” Gareth said. “Unthinkable. For that to happen, he’d have to be mad, and we’ve seen no signs of it.”

“You should not trust Eidan overmuch,” Alaya said bitterly. “I, of all people, know this. You don’t like me,” she said, fixing her gaze on Gareth. “No doubt you’ve heard the rumours of how I pined after Eidan and think me a troublemaker who’d be better off keeping her mouth shut. Those were lies to make me look the fool instead of him.”

“But he did ditch you,” Claire blurted without thinking.

Alaya glared at Claire. “Excuse me. I ‘ditched’, to use your peculiar phrasing, him. He was a very charismatic man. When he fixed his attention on me, it felt like I was the only person in the universe that mattered, but as time went on, he cared for me less and less. It was as though I was someone half real to him, and when his mind wasn’t elsewhere, and he saw me, I no longer pleased him. I had to leave.”

“You think we shouldn’t trust Eidan because of how he lied about your relationship?” Jemroth asked.

“He’s a deep man. He tells people what they want to hear, all the while pushing them closer to his aims.”

“Which are what exactly?” Lotte asked.

“I don’t know.” Alaya bit her top lip. “To be honest, something changed within him while we were together. In the end, the things that had appealed to him, that brought him pleasure, held nothing for him anymore. I was afraid to find out why and I hadn’t yet met Bron so I didn’t realise how important knowing such information would prove to be. At the time, I just wanted to get out with my life intact.”

“The way you talk about him … it’s like he scared you,” Claire said. “What happened?”

“He never touched me, never hurt me, but,” Alaya’s brow furrowed, “there were times when I woke at night unbeknownst to him to find him looking at me in a way that frightened me more than I can say.” She put a hand to her throat. “And in those times, I thought him capable of strangling me. Those flashes I saw, they became more and more frequent, and I knew that if I asked or said something he didn’t like …”

Bron reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t think of it, love. That part of your life is done.” He turned back to Gareth and Claire. “We must figure out what you’ll do next.”

“I need to get into the Council Buildings to see Marcus,” Claire said. “I’m not sure he even knows I’m in Kelnarium. I can’t see him being happy that Eidan intended to kill his sister, no matter how justified Eidan felt he was. Given they’re still friends, Eidan must have kept my presence in Dorran House from him.”

“His mind is made up,” Bron said firmly. “You will never change it.”

“I’m family,” Claire said. “I’ll explain everything that’s happened, and he’ll see he has no choice but to continue on with us. If nothing else, he can’t get home without me and Gwenivere.”

“Claire’s right,” Gareth said. “She has to try at any rate, ’else we’re all doomed. Yes, it’s risky, but what choice do we have?”

Bron sighed. “If your minds are set, then I bow to your will. I’ll write to the Council today notifying them of your arrival in the city. When they send through the token, you’ll have access to the Council Buildings. At least Eidan hasn’t named Maellwyn House as public enemies. Not yet anyway.”

“What about accommodation?” Gareth mused. “We don’t want to compromise the safe house.”

“I don’t think you should stay at the emissary accommodation. There are too many prying eyes,” Bron said. “I’ll book the Spotted Duck, an expensive inn near the Council Buildings. The token and any message the Council may wish to send can go there. If you need Alaya or I, we have our own house in the same district. Ask the innkeep and he’ll tell you the address. Are we agreed?”

Everyone nodded and Bron rose to fetch paper and ink, leaning forward to shake everyone’s hand. “For goodness sake, be careful, and may the Mer-people grant you good luck.” His expression told Claire he was convinced they’d need it.