'I wasn't cavorting,' said the Doctor levelly. 'That's not my style.'

The guard snorted, and reached for another sheet of parchment. 'What is your name?'

'As I said, I am usually called the Doctor.'

The soldier frowned. 'That word means nothing to me. Is it a rank or a mark of peerage?'

'Neither, really,' said the Doctor, watching the man scribble notes across the page.

'Your business here?'

'I don't know,' replied the Doctor. 'I haven't found it yet.

Can we fill that bit in later?'

The guard rose to his feet and with a gloved hand took hold of the Doctor's throat. 'Your city might cherish such impertinence. Ours does not.'

The Doctor pulled himself away. 'Well, of all the confounded stupidity!' He looked around him, desperately.

'I'm simply trying to make your job easier!' He began to shout. 'Somebody, somewhere, I am sure, will find me very interesting indeed!'

'What's all the noise?' came a voice from the far side of the room.

The soldier crashed to attention. 'It's this man, sir. He fails to heed the authority of the City Guard and -'

'Well, he's hardly the first to do that,' said the newcomer, walking across the room towards the Doctor. 'I am Oiquaquil, Captain of the City Guard. You are?'

'The Doctor. I'm a visitor. My friends and I were interested in examining Heddeige's theories at first hand.

I've not sampled a culture such as your own for quite some time.'

Oiquaquil turned to the guard. 'Do these words make sense to you?' The soldier shook his head. Oiquaquil returned his gaze to the small, energetic man. 'Are you a magician, sir? Your words are mere sounds in my ear.'

'Most certainly not!' spluttered the Doctor. 'I am a philosopher, an explorer, a scientist of some renown -'

The room had been almost silent from the moment that Oiquaquil had entered. Now it was quieter still. A sinking feeling in the Doctor's stomach indicated that he had made his first mistake of the day.

'A scientist, eh?' said Oiquaquil. The small Captain rubbed his hands with delight. 'You are either very ignorant of our city, or very brazen. You'd better come with me.' He flashed the Doctor a brief smile lacking teeth and warmth. 'I think you're right. I think the knights will find you very interesting indeed.'

Cosmae could not get Kaquaan's face out of his mind. He saw her beguiling eyes, her full lips, her pale cheeks notched with tiny nicks of scar tissue. He remembered her hair, tumbling around her shoulders, and in his mind he reached out to caress her.

The fact that it was her face that ebbed and waned impossibly in his vision troubled Cosmae. He'd known many beautiful women, and quite a few charming wh.o.r.es.

Defrabax had said that, as Kaquaan was one of many, she'd soon be gone from Cosmae's mind, and that he l.u.s.ted after her rather than loved her. After all, Cosmae had first seen her mere weeks ago, and he hardly knew her at all. He only knew her name because she'd le that slip when they had talked in bed earlier that evening.

And yet he wanted so much to know her better, to have a role on the stage of her life. If his pa.s.sions had been inflamed by nothing more than l.u.s.t, he postulated, his diseased mind would be taunted by images of her legs, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, by the sounds of their lovemaking - but no, it was her face, her laugh, her eyes, her eyes, her eyes ...

He saw her eyes everywhere, but still he hadn't tracked her down. He had returned quickly to the street where he had most often seen her, but she was nowhere to be found.

Women with painted faces and dark robes paraded up and down, but she was not among them.

Cosmae sensed an extra tang in the air, and it was a deep fear, an amplification of the usual unease that was normal for any area where the Knights of Kuabris held sway. The creatures from the sewers, whatever they were, and whatever sort of connection Defrabax had with them, had upset what little calm existed in the city.

Up ahead there seemed to be a cl.u.s.ter of people, gathered around some central point, making excited, sighing exclamations of surprise and fear. Perhaps someone had been killed by the sewer creatures.

Cosmae ran towards the group, and heard a voice he recognized. He pushed his way through the ma.s.s of people, ignoring their scornful looks and their curses, until he was just close enough to see what was going on.

It was Kaquaan, and she was talking to a young knight.

The nature of her story ensured that the people's usual fear of the knights had for the moment waned. The entire crowd hung on her every word as if she were a master storyteller.

'It was a terrible grey thing of the graveyards,' she was saying. 'The creature didn't move - I didn't give it the chance. I just ran out of the door.'

Cosmae watched the young knight stand in thought for a few moments before he turned to one of a number of guards who stood behind him. 'Take her to Grand Knight Himesor at the castle,' he ordered. 'He will doubtless wish to question this strumpet at his leisure. And make sure you mention that it was Araboam who found her.' The knight could barely resist a self-satisfied smile.

Cosmae watched the girl being led away. The guard had a fistful of hair and yanked her head regularly. Somewhere Kaquaan had lost a shoe, and one foot was swollen and b.l.o.o.d.y. She hobbled to keep up with the guard.

Cosmae swallowed down his desire to smash the guard's face on the pavement, and slipped away from the crowd, following them towards the Castle of Kuabris at a discreet distance. At one point the girl seemed to look behind her and recognize his face amongst all the milling people, but the guard cursed and dragged her forwards again, half on her knees.

Imagination or not, Cosmae saw tears like jewels about her cheeks.

The creature sat in darkness, staring at the points of light just above its head. Through the metal drain cover it could see people's feet as they scurried about like overdeveloped insects. The clanging rhythm provided basic accompaniment to its whirling thoughts.

'Soon,' it said, its voice flowing down into the sewers like a sigh. 'Soon.. We leave here. We go up. Dark to light.' Its fingers stretched out to stroke the undersurface of the grating as tenderly as if stroking a child.

'Soon,' it said again, and then disappeared back into the darkness.

Zoe sat with her head in her hands, staring at the floor, trying studiously to avoid visual contact with any of the others in her cell.

The guards had herded the women into one small group at the rear of the ale house and then bundled them into a square horse-drawn waggon. There had barely been room to stand, but only Zoe seemed perturbed. The other women, including those that had sold drinks and a large number from the upstairs rooms, were stoic in the face of discomfort and possible imprisonment. They had skittered one into another like wooden pins with barely a sound, their faces blank and resigned.

Zoe had been pulled from the back of the waggon and then kicked by a guard as she lay on the floor, her head spinning. She had tried to protest, but before she could another guard had interceded and helped her to her feet. The women had been directed with shouts and oaths into a cramped cell the mere smell of which made Zoe's stomach chum. There had been a squabble for what few benches there were - it was like watching primitive animals a.s.sert their position in some awful pecking order - but Zoe made straight for the darkest corner, hoping to be ignored.

Some minutes had pa.s.sed in silence, but she didn't dare look up. Perhaps if she concentrated hard enough she'd just vanish. Perhaps if she were patient enough the Doctor or Jamie would whisper to her that they were about to rescue her, like they always did, and then the great metal-latticed door would come crumbling inwards. Perhaps . . .

There was a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'No, my cloud, don't fall asleep.'

Zoe looked up, her vision swimming. 'I was just - I was . . .'.

'Shh,' advised the woman, who was now coming into focus. 'I saw your head nodding. It's not a good idea to fall asleep in the company of loose women.'

Zoe found that she was almost embarra.s.sed to look at the woman - the dress she was wearing was so immodest, so blatant - but she smiled weakly in thanks. The woman had tried hard to obscure her age, but Zoe noticed even in the poor light of the cell dark lines around her eyes, the first swelling of fat under her chin. Her long hair, although dirty and matted now, had a l.u.s.trous hint that obviously enabled her to compete with the dominant young women who sprawled on the benches. There was a kindly, strong beauty about her. Her lower lip was swollen around a tiny purple cut. Zoe watched her lips for a moment before realizing that she was speaking again.

'Sorry?'

'I said, you're clearly not part of this game . . .'

Zoe shook her head firmly.

'You see, fall asleep in here, and you'll awake with no money to pay your fine. And then . . .' The woman paused at Zoe's expression. 'You do have some money?'

Zoe shook her head sadly.

'Nothing? Oh dear, oh dear. You see, the guards are only interested in a nominal warning. We'll be here for a few hours, I suppose, and then we'll be fined and released. All good women,' she almost spat the phrase, 'carry a few coins about their person.'

'But I haven't got -'

'Shh,' said the woman with a warning finger to her lips.

'Don't let the guards hear you say that. If they can't get their coins then they'll look for . . . payment in other forms.' The woman's fingers brushed across Zoe's cheek. 'You're pretty enough, my girl, but I think you'll bruise too easily.'

'But I couldn't -'

'I'll see what I can do for you.' The woman delved down into her substantial cleavage and pulled out a leather pouch, which she raised to her failing eyes, pretending to cough. A moment later a few tiny coins were being pressed into Zoe's damp palm. 'That should be enough.'

'Thank you,' stuttered Zoe. 'How shall I get the money back to you?'

The woman laughed, rearranging her dress. 'You're obviously not from this city, and you're clearly too naive to be involved in this sordid game. Just take the coins, my cloud, with the compliments of the Knights of Kuabris.' The woman spat on the floor. 'It's their rules, you see. They order the raids. It's so difficult to earn a living with people like that around!'

There was a movement towards the door. A number of guards appeared, and pulled open the heavy door of the cell.

One by one the women filed out, placing coins in a series of outstretched palms. The young women went first, laughing crudely with the guards.

The old woman had bustled towards the front of the queue, cuffing about the head another who was about to protest. Zoe joined the end of the queue, swaying unsteadily on her feet. She watched as one woman tried to reason with the guards, explaining that she had no money, but they were having none of it. She was dragged away, screaming.

Zoe nervously extended her fist of coins towards the line of guards. The one at the front looked down at them closely, and then started to laugh. 'Foreign currency!' he shouted.

The other soldiers started to chuckle. 'Good woman,' the man said to Zoe, 'you do surely know that trade in foreign currency is illegal here? You were very foolish to accept payment in this form, but perhaps the black market in currency is springing up once more.'

Zoe stared at him in uncomprehending silence. The guard took the coins anyway.

'There is a strict fining system for such crimes,' said another guard. 'But it appears you have no money for that, either.'

'But I'm a traveller here,' blurted out Zoe. 'I've got nothing to do with those women -'

'I believe you,' interrupted the first guard. 'I might have asked you to accompany me for the evening, but there's not enough meat on you.' He smiled icily. 'So don't worry, you'll be away from this city by tomorrow morning.'

Zoe felt the second guard pull her arms up sharply behind her back. The first guard shouted after her as she was marched away. 'You'll be sold at the slave market in an hour's time.'

Four.

Defrabax was translating an ancient text on deadly gemstones when he heard the unmistakable sound of his door being kicked down.

Quickly pushing his papers into a drawer, he darted towards the front of the house. Commander Zaitabor stood in the centre of a mound of sharp splinters, imperiously instructing his men in their search. His harsh features pa.s.sed from darkness to light and back again as a suspended lamp twisted above his head. He pretended not to see Defrabax for a moment.

Defrabax snorted and spluttered indignantly, rubbing his eyes for effect. 'What is the meaning of this? I was asleep in the back room and -'

'Defrabax,' said Zaitabor, his eyes colder than the moon-kissed air. 'What a pleasant surprise to find you up at this hour. What mystical designs can so occupy your mind, I wonder?'

'The curfew only applies out there,' said Defrabax, wincing as he heard an axe being applied to a locked box.

A chill wind floated through the doorway, briefly tugging at Zaitabor's cloak. He nodded to the two knights who stood on either side of Defrabax. One pulled Defrabax's shoulders behind him, the other held a slim dagger to his throat. 'You of all people,' said Zaitabor, 'could tell me what would happen if the knife were to slip and graze your throat.'

Defrabax swallowed against the cold metal point.

'What are you looking for?'

Zaitabor made a show of examining the sketches on the wall closely. 'I'm not sure. This is just a routine search, of course. Even good citizens can expect an occasional visitation from the knights.' He tapped a yellow-framed ill.u.s.tration of a nesting rat hawk. 'This is very good.'

'My ward, Cosmae,' said Defrabax. 'He is very talented.'