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Banners fluttered in the distance above a blur of carriages and horses. A procession, coming in towards the northern gate of Kathedra, filling the grand Crownsmen's Road for many miles into the horizon.

Isla's company had long diverged from the Kingswater. Soon they would meet the road, and within the next hour, they should be well within the city walls.

'The nothern lords have come for the Rising Year celebration,' said Master Chendra, squinting at the road.

'Northern lords?' Phrae sat up a little straighter. She had recovered well since her near-drowning three days ago, though Isla noticed she had since avoided going any closer to the river than was necessary.

'You must learn these things if you wish to rise into court life.' Master Chendra pointed into the distance. Black and red danced over white canvas, leading some half-dozen carriages the colour of aged bone. 'That group there belongs to Raj Shen Samarajit, the Archduke Rajaspar.'

'An archduke.' Phrae leaned over the wagon rails, as though it would secure her a glimpse of the so-named lord.

Isla ground her teeth, frustrated at herself for how little she knew about her homeland. There were five archdukes throughout Surikhand, but their names and lands were not something Isla had ever been familiar with. All she remembered was that they held primary position amongst the nobleborn.

'Mother says they're descended from the first princes of Surikhand,' said Phrae.

'Our realm was built upon the strength of six brothers.' Master Chendra put on his story-teller's voice. 'The eldest prince was crowned our very first Maha Rama, his five brothers given each a piece of land; key borders of our kingdom. They were tasked to march the borders and guard them, and thus each have armies as large as the marchdom they guard.'

'An army,' Phrae echoed.

'You're eager now; wait until you see who marches behind him.'

Isla turned her attention to the black banners tailing Raj Shen's retinue. They led a far greater company. Isla counted at least two dozen silver coaches, with horses white and proud. Their banners were larger, grander: a bright seven-pointed star shining in the centre of a silver arched gate. The black satin yielded to the breeze, shimmering as it caught light.

Phrae gasped. 'The silver gates of Petripyor!'

'Home of the Provincial Prince of Kam Phor.' Master Chendra beamed at Phrae. 'Good. You are familiar with his sigil. Do you know the name of its lord?'

'Maharaj Persi Ametjas,' said Phrae, awe in her voice. Archdukes were descended of royalty, provincial princes were actual royalty. 'The Maha Rama's third child and eldest son.'

'You'll learn much about governance in Kathedra,' said Master Chendra. 'Who rules what. How the feudal system works.'

Isla only half-listened as Master Chendra and Phrae continued their discussion, each trying to out-lecture the other. She was far too fascinated by the collection of colours and sigils waving in the distance. Away from the road, young lords raced on horses. Their laughter tinkled in the air, their mounts thumped against the ground, beating a pattern to Isla's heart.

She had never been so close to a palace before, and Kathedra was magnificent. The outmost wall stood some forty feet tall, each of its three levels sprouting turrets and bulwarks, chutes peeking from the corners of its boat-shaped roofs.

If only Noi was here ... Her handmaid would fawn and gush over the sight. Even more so than Phrae, I'll wager. Isla squinted against the sun. Guards guarded the top of the wall, what looked to be crossbows in hand. A shiver of fear crawled down her spine. How she longed for Aldir's company, or Sir Edric's reassuring presence. But this, at least, was one bridge she had to cross alone.

They had discussed it thoroughly at Cannersly.

The only way they could have come aboard Tempestorm with her would have been as her retinue, and then it would have been impossible for her to disappear and take on a false identity. Smuggling one girl off the ship was viable; but one girl and two grown men? Even if Bartol somehow pulled it off, it would then still be impossible for Isla to take on his daughter's identity with two other people linking her back to Tempestorm.

'Elder, you're hurting me.'

Isla grimaced apologetically at Rinju. She had not realised she'd been squeezing the girl's hand.

The wall was close now. So close it dwarfed them under its shadow. Its gate was five carriages wide and manned by a dozen soldiers. Two of the men checked their papers and waved them through.

'Welcome to Kathedra,' said Master Chendra over the sound of men and horses. Their wagon rolled out from under the gate and they were met with an onslaught of peddlers and beggars. A child reached through the wagon rails, and Master Chendra slapped his hand away. 'This is the anterior ring. As you see, it's home to the ... less esteemed ... members of society.'

The city was walled behind three concentric and tiered baileys. After what must have been an hour of trudging through congestion, they came to the second gate and crossed a wide moat into what Master Chendra introduced as the posterior ring.

The road grew wider, buildings cleaner. Towers stood amongst them, tall and grand, shining like a beacon amongst a sea of dark canopies. The third and final bailey rose in the distance, looming behind a wall of sloping rooftops, etched with countless rows of bastions and parapets.

A genteel hum of chatter replaced the sounds of the city as they entered the posterior ring market. 'Good afternoon, Master Chendra!'

Their tutor nodded at the woman who had called out to him. 'It's good to be back, Tess.'

'Just in time for the festivities.' Tess waved her hat at them as they drove past, her laced gown billowing in the wind.

Isla looked around and found that almost everyone in the posterior ring dressed in the Cor Regnant fashion. The women with their wide hats and large sashes, layered dresses so thick she broke into a sweat just watching them. Men sporting frock coats, tailcoats – in fact any other coat only a madman would wear in such heat ...

'They look funny.' Rinju giggled.

'I think they look beautiful,' said Phrae.

'I think they must be melting underneath all that fabric,' said Isla.

Phrae shrugged. 'Beauty comes with pain.'

'We've had an influx of Cor Regnant traders over the past few years,' said Master Chendra. 'Very popular amongst the nobleborn. They buy our bamboo cloth, our barkcloth, our silks and cottons and linens – return with gowns and coats ten times our original price. You'll learn about trade, too, once you're settled.'

'I can't wait.' Phrae rolled her eyes. Isla laughed quietly, avoiding Master Chendra's glare.

The market soon disappeared behind them, and the next thing Isla knew, they were riding through an archway in the third bailey and appeared in the innermost part of the city.

'Here we are,' said Master Chendra. 'The palatial ring. Your new home.'

The road cut across a field of low-trimmed grass, upon which men were fighting in wooden pens. Most were committed for swordplay and unarmed combat, but Isla saw several pens farther into the fields that had been set for target practice. 'Will we learn how to fight as well?'

'Only the very basics,' Master Chendra replied after a pause. 'You'll focus on studies more fitting of women.'

'Like washing the dishes?' Phrae piped with a lift of an eyebrow.

'Like history. Trade. Politics. Things you need to know to better support your husband.'

Isla looked at Phrae for sympathy, but the younger girl had shed the caustic look off her face and seemed to take Master Chendra's words to heart.

'Your prospects aren't simple fishermen or farmers any more.'

Another insulting remark. There's nothing wrong with an honest fisherman. Her father had been one, and never once had her mother complained or wished for anything more.

Master Chendra continued, oblivious to Isla's increasing discomfort, 'You have the opportunity now to catch the eyes of great men. Important men, with important responsibilities. And every great man needs a great woman behind him.'

The twinkle in Phrae's eyes seemed to say, I'm a great woman. Isla could not begrudge her for it; she preferred an average man herself, if the alternative was an important one who chose his wife from a pool of voiceless girls like fish at a market.

'There are three thousand other dhayang in the palace, so don't think for a second you'll be without competition,' Master Chendra was saying.

'Dhayang?'

'Palace girl, if you want to be straight about it. Everyone summoned to the palace for the conscription or as early-bloomers are granted this title.'

Rinju laughed and ribbed Isla. 'From now on you'll call me Dhayang Rinju!'

'If you're lucky, you'll secure a nobleman within a few years,' continued Master Chendra. 'Either as your husband, or as a patron to work under his care.'

'And if we don't?' asked Isla defiantly. 'I suppose you'll keep us in the palace forever?'

'Promising students are often offered a position in the palace household, mostly as a governess for the children, or a tutor like myself. Some who manage to rise into court life and catch the eye of a royal member may even be enlisted as a silver-servant.'

Is that how Haana had become one? Had she, too, been a dhayang?

'From the age of eighteen you may take an annually-held examination for a government position. Testers stationed at theurgy examining offices; educators in city schools; tax collectors ...'

'What about map-makers?' asked Rinju. 'My Pa's a map-maker. He goes around the realm and draws. I wish I could go with him but he never lets me.'

Much more exciting than collecting taxes. 'You're still a long way from eighteen, so you've plenty of time to learn cartography.'

'The examination is not for early-bloomers,' said Master Chendra quietly. 'You have a more important role.'

'She can do both.' If she must.

'That depends, doesn't it.' It was not a question. 'In any case. She should be happy with the opportunity she already has. Don't go filling her head with wild fantasies, or she'll end up like your Murbei the perri.'

Isla sucked her teeth. 'Murbei was brave enough to chase after her dreams.'

Master Chendra spluttered. 'She turned into a fruit!'

'You've completely missed the grander point of the story! She wanted to reach the sky. To have a nest in the highest branches and fly with the birds. Now her own branches are home to a thousand birds and a thousand nests.'

'I'd rather be alive than an ingredient for sweet preservatives.'

'I wouldn't call having your choices made for you living.'

'You shouldn't worry too much about Rinju.' Master Chendra sighed. Across him, Phrae had already lost interest in their conversation; daydreaming – no doubt – of noble suitors and an important husband. 'You have your own problems to deal with. If by your second year here you're neither married nor have found employment or patronage, you'll be sent to the Water Palace and kept there until you do. Don't be fooled,' he added quickly as their carriage came to a stop, 'It's not a place of perri tales.'