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“You know the rumours about Master Damon? About his preferences in bed?”

Mina’s eyes stretch wide. “You mean?” She gasps dramatically. “You mean you truly are his pleasure slave. I knew it. People do whisper that is what you are, yes. Even here in Master Damon’s own house. And there have long been rumours that he is sly. They stopped of course when he married. But then, well, people say when he discovered King Ramel had a male pleasure slave he insisted on taking him for himself, taking you for himself. And I have heard that he fucked you in the revels in front of every man present and they cheered him on because he was The One Man Army. And, of course, the rumour is that his old sin has followed him home. I thought that was talk, because, of course, I know where you lie, unless…?” She furrows her brow. “Does he wait until everyone is asleep and then command that you attend him in bed? Has he hurt you?”

“It’s not like that. He’d never do that. Almost none of that is true. But, Mina, please, you must tell no one, but he is indeed sly.”

“Have you lain with him?”

“No. He cannot. He told me he does not wish to sin and he is trying to be a good man. And now…” Lyr sniffs. “Now he is ignoring me. He does not even look at me.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t bedded you? You are whimpering like a serving wench who has been used by a great man and set aside. You should not be surprised. Noble men do it all the time.”

“He has not even bedded me,” Lyr whimpers. “I swear, he has not. All he has done is touch me. He made me spend with his hand. Out in the orchard.”

Mina gasps with a kind of delighted surprise. “Here in Sanglora?”

“Mina, swear to me, you will tell no one.”

Mina smiles. “Truly, if I did it would sound no worse than what people already say Master Damon has done with you.”

“Do you think he loves his wife?” Lyr says.

“Why do you ask that?”

“She saw us. She saw us in the orchard and he chased after her and after that, he will not look at me.”

“Perhaps it is her doing. Perhaps she has held this over him and made him swear not to speak to you.”

Lyr sniffles again, but this does make him feel a little more hopeful.

“On the question of whether he loves her, who can really know his heart, but…” Mina pauses and looks a little smug. “I have heard her handmaidens say he does not share her bed and has not done so since he returned from war.”

This statement ignites a tiny spark of delight in Lyr. “Oh? Truly?”

Mina nods, “Yes, although the talk is he is saving his seed for the Feast of Surrus when he hopes to put a son in her belly in the coupling grove. But now, please Lyr, dry your tears. If I don’t bring you to Cook now we will both get the strap.”

When they arrive back in the kitchen Cook turns and says, “There you are. Where ever have you been? I need you to go to Gleamview Market to place an order with the fishmonger. Take this.” She hands him a piece of paper. “And be sure and get it to him before noon or he’ll fuss and try to offer some substandard replacement. And we can’t have that for the Feast of Surrus. Now run along.”

Lyr does as he is bid.

It’s the first time Lyr has left Sanglora Manor since he arrived. The city is even busier than it seemed on the day he rode through the streets from the docks in the cart.

On the back of the note for the fishmonger, Cook has scrawled some directions. He memorises them, then flips the note over and reads.

5lbs mackerel, 5lbs sprats, 2 salmon, 2 sturgeon, 5 lampreys.

That seems like a lot of fish. Under the order is written, deliver to Sanglora Manor on the morning of the Feast of Surrus.

Lyr knows that the Feast of Surrus marks the moon turn from Gi to Surrus. It was the one feast of the Sidu he never attended when he was owned by Jareleezi. She would always take him to her chamber for a ritual on that night. But he knows what happens at the Feast of Surrus. Opeth had often told him she was sorry he never got to go.

Lyr takes his time moving through the city. It is pleasant to be wandering freely. He enjoys the air on his skin. He hasn’t spent time outdoors since Klish. The streets twist and there seems to be some new fascinating thing on every corner. Bards sing, pillow workers lean out of windows and call trade, cats run in zig zags. People around him speak in every language. He hears Artemian, of course, but also Juran and some delicate Magaar. He even hears bards sing in bawdy Ambolk. It’s a cacophony, a great music of the city.

He’s drawing near what he thinks must be the market, the crowds are thicker, he can hear even more noise, raucous shouts of sellers and he can smell roasting nuts in the air. He passes a wide open square with a huge punishment scaffold at its centre. Two men are imprisoned there, displayed in a pillory. Signs in front of each detail their crimes. For the first ‘drunkenness’ for the second, who looks like he has been beaten, ‘stealing’. Lyr shivers. There is a whipping post on the scaffold too, although no one is locked into the tall post’s dangling manacles, Lyr can see bloodstains on the wooden platform.

He turns away and is about to walk into the market when a man steps in front of him, a large man in leather armour. He wears a sword belt and a severe expression.

“You Lyr?”

Lyr stares at the man, startled.