Grace only realised that they had changed her clothes once she had levered her way out of the sleeping pod. It opened on her command and she swung her legs out, before noticing that she was wearing baggy trousers and soft shoes instead of the leggings and skirt and boots.

With a numb feeling, she pulled up her trousers and saw only bare skin. The true-seer was gone.

She tried not to panic, despite remembering Mr. Fredrickson's insistence that she would need it to guard against illusion.

I've been all right so far, she thought. But she knew with a sinking feeling that the Queen would be a much more difficult opponent than the cold mage.

She looked down towards the doctor's desk, wondering if she had the stone, but there was nobody there. She would have to go and find out and hope they didn't recognise what it was.

A millisecond later, the feeling grew a lot worse as she realised that the book was gone with it. She would have died three times over by now without it – more, in all probability, given that they had travelled safely on the winds instead of down the road. The thought of having to manage without it was terrifying.

Well, she thought, I guess I'll just have to go and get it back.

She heaved herself upright, feeling tired but no longer in pain, to her great relief. In fact, she felt no more sleepy or stiff than she usually did after waking up in the morning.

As soon as she stood on the step outside the pod, she was carried gently downwards to ground level. And then she was suddenly able to hear mumbled voices, and she followed them further into the dimly-lit room.

There were figures moving in the gloom, all of them wearing white. Each worked beside one of the pods, glowing lights marking some form of healing Grace wouldn't have understood if she could have seen it.

In the centre of the floor, at one of the pods set on the ground, the doctor crouched, tending to someone inside it. The Captain – Roschan, the doctor had called him - stood beside her, and the two were in the midst of a quiet conversation.

"... going to get any better," the Captain was saying.

"Then she needs to find me more healers," the doctor said.

"I've told her –"

"I know you have." It was a snappish remark, and Grace could see that her body was tense with frustration. "But something needs to get through to her."

"But what's going to convince her when every one of her Captains has failed?" Roschan asked.

"I don't know," the doctor said, bitterly. Then, after a pause, she added quietly, "Maybe if someone threatened her precious child..."

Grace remembered the tiny throne in her dream. So the queen had a child. She hadn't imagined her as a mother; nor as a wife, though she supposed there didn't need to be marriage to bring about children.

How could she take all those boys away from their mothers, then? And the girls with power? It made Grace feel still more revolted. She understood what it was to love a child, and she still took them.

The doctor straightened, and turned back towards the desk. Her eyes met Grace's, and she let out a small huff of air.

"It's four hours until you're supposed to be awake," she said, testily.

Grace heard the Captain murmur, quietly, "Says she of the thirty-hour day..."

The doctor scowled at him, and then paced towards Grace. Behind her, Grace caught a glimpse of a young woman's face drawn in pain before the pod hissed shut.

The Captain followed on after the doctor, and the closer he got, the more bedraggled he looked. His scarlet robe was torn and slashed in three places, and there were darker patches and spots on it, sprays of what she suspected was blood.

"I feel rested," Grace told her. Then she added, lightly, "I'd like to get dressed."

"You'll have to make do with those for now," the doctor told her, returning to her desk and pulling out a piece of paper. "They're with the help hands, having gore removed."

She opened her hand and one of those little balls of light emerged, hovering over the paper. As Grace watched, it let out a beam of light.

Grace had to crane her neck to see what it was doing, and then she realised that words and charts were appearing. With a smile, she realised that it was acting like a printer. Sometimes this place was wonderful, as well as strange and dangerous.

"Well, don't worry about your attire on my account," Captain Roschan said, with a tired smile. "I'll happily talk to you as you are."

"I said midnight," the doctor protested, glancing up from the charts, and then down again.

"By midnight, I'll be dead on my feet. She's coming now."

He began to walk from the room, and Grace went after him, dragging her feet. She wasn't ready to lie. She found herself wishing, fervently, that Afi would wake up and come with her. He would know what to say, and he could warn her. But he had probably spent eight hours in blissful oblivion, without troubling dreams to wake him early. There was no sign of him as she walked out into the corridor.

"This way," Roschan told her, and led the way to one of the discs in the floor that held an Intention Wind anchored. She squinted around, her memory of yesterday hazy. She had thought there were stairs next to the disc that she would be able to escape up or down if she needed to, but now she saw only the wind itself. The stairs must have been earlier in the journey, and that could be problematic given that Afi was not coming with her. She had to be able to get back here.

She sighed slightly, reflecting that she needed a map of this place. And then it occurred to her that the book might actually have one. The map had certainly adjusted to help her in the past, and if it could guide her through this place, then all the better.

She watched Roschan as the wind picked them both up. He was frowning into space, and she realised that he didn't really distrust her as much as he would like to pretend. If he had been suspicious, he would have been watching her all the way there.

The wind's progress became that hurtling rush again, probably no faster than the Travelling Wind had been, but a whole lot more scary when they veered around corners mere centimetres from a wall every few seconds.

They entered a tunnel, and she was just feeling relieved at the sensation of space when it opened out into a room so vast it was unbelievable. They were travelling along just below a ceiling that had real, vaporous clouds suspended against its dark blue, and the floor was hundreds of feet below them. Instead of stone or rock, it was flowing hills and trees, with little streams and rivers picked out, and the wall ahead was miles away, or at least a mile.

Grace stared as they flew over it, wondering how long it had taken the palace's builders to create this place, and why they had created. What use could it possibly serve indoors?

As they approached the centre, her eye was drawn to a statue and the closer they came, the larger she realised it was. It was taller than most buildings, at a guess, and picked out in metallic silver. She assumed, from the long flowing hair, that it depicted the Queen and had been put there to serve her vanity, but they passed over it and she saw a short, clipped beard and muscular arms holding a sword with a jewel set in its pommel.

"Do you like Cartheno?" the Captain said into her ear, and she jumped. She realised that she had been lost in that view, and forgotten about him within minutes.

"Cartheno?" she asked, and then wondered if this was something she should have known. But the Captain answered readily enough.

"He was one of the first of the Jiacta kings, and he built much of the palace," he explained, seeming to enjoy being her tour-guide. "It was his line that began to add more and more to its top, creating the beginnings of the tower. Though it was our Queen who made it the place you see now. She added more than a thousand feet to it and separated out its segments so that they could blow with the wind, or move with the phases of the moon."

Grace nodded, as politely as she could manage. The statue was disappearing behind them, and in front she saw a cluster of what seemed to be buildings of different colours.

Squinting down at them, she began to make out a few shapes and saw that some were tents. Others were stalls strung with lights, and in the very centre she saw the glittering water of a fountain.

With a lurch of her stomach, she realised what she was looking at. It was Ruidic's fair, and she was in plain view in the air above it.

She turned her head away, as if to look at the river at the edge of the room. She squeezed her hands into fists and hoped and hoped that she was too far away to be seen.

What seemed like hours later, but was probably only seconds, the tunnel at the far end of the vast room rushed up to swallow them and she let out a sigh as quietly as she could manage. She glanced over at Roschan, but he was lost in thought again.

Their rushing journey continued, and Grace was too weak with relief to mind the terrifying closeness of the walls any more.

They touched down in a plain but high and vaulted corridor. It was lit by cheerfully globes along the ceiling, and although there were no windows, it was as bright as daylight. In fact, Grace couldn't remember seeing a single window since she had entered the tower, which was an uncomfortable thought.

She looked at the Captain as he began to walk, and wondered if he had forgotten that she was there. Grace decided that it might be worth taking advantage of his distraction.

"Does the doctor have my stuff?" she asked him.

"Sorry?" He looked up, blinked, and then tried to focus on her. His face looked even more tired now she could see his bloodshot eyes in proper light.

"My stuff. Does the doctor have it? Or have you got it?"

He seemed to be confused for a moment. "Your personal effects?"

Grace nodded, realising that she was going to have to cut down on her use of slang in this world. The trouble was going to be remembering how much of it she used.

"She sent them to me, at my request," he told her, and then, narrowing his eyes at her, "I was interested to see a true-seer amongst your items. I think the Queen and her Sorceror would be interested in knowing about that."

Grace looked back at him, very much aware of the heat on her cheeks.

"A what?"

"The true-seeing stone you had on your ankle." He stopped walking, outside a carved wooden door. It was one of the most normal things she had seen here.

"Oh." Grace tried to look past him, at the door, and to keep her face neutral. "It's just an anklet. A friend gave it to me."

He laughed, gently. "Nice try."

Huh, and he didn't know what "stuff" meant, Grace thought, fleetingly.

Roschan turned and opened the door, leaving Grace to hover outside and wonder whether she ought to just run now. If he could see through her that easily, her best bet might be to flee while she had the opportunity.

"You'd better come if you want your things back," he called, and she was beaten.

She followed him into a very plain, very ordinary-looking room – if "ordinary" involved being out of date by about two hundred years. There were, of course, no computers or TVs, and she was pretty certain she wouldn't see any in the Cold Lands no matter how hard she looked. But where the doctor had those little globes of light that seemed to take the place of medical instruments and computers, here there was nothing but old-fashioned pencils and paper sitting on a wooden desk. He had a wooden chest of drawers, too, and – finally! – a window to let in light. Except that it was dark, and the one item he possessed that seemed to rely on possibility was a lamp that sprang to life as he walked past it.

The Captain sat in his worn-looking chair, heavily, and gestured to the upright armchair opposite. Grace had a moment of disquiet when she saw it. It was so much like the one the fortune-teller had offered her that she almost refused. But it would be difficult to act casually on her feet, and she had to at least try...

She sat, finding it just as comfortable as the one she had sat in – what, three nights ago? She was no longer quite sure how long it had been. A little more alert to it, she felt it shifting subtly to adapt to her body.

So he doesn't like magic much, she thought, but he's prepared to have a magical chair.

Which probably meant that he was willing to give in and use the stuff when it meant his witnesses might grow a little too comfortable and say a little too much.

Just make sure you don't do the same, she said to herself, imagining Ma saying the words to her. It was easier to be stern when she borrowed Ma's voice, even if she was only talking to herself.

"Well then. Perhaps we should begin by introducing ourselves properly," he said. "I am Captain Roschan of the Southern Militia, a division of the Palace Guard, though you may know that already."

He waited, and she said hesitantly, "Grace Lane, of Naian." She had listened to Afi as he spoke to the tailor, but she knew that she hadn't remembered all of it.

"A noble-woman, naturally," he said, nodding. "Though your accent sounds somewhat strange to my ears."

Oh no, Grace thought. She had no idea how to get round that one, and she should have expected it. Benjamin would be so much better at this than I am!

" I have known some travellers from Naian..."

There were footsteps in the corridor. The Captain tailed off to look towards the door, and then Grace heard one of the most welcome sounds she had ever heard: Afi's quiet, self-confident voice.

"Excuse me, Captain," he said, and came to lean against the chest of drawers. "I hope you don't mind me coming along too."

Roschan gave Afi a considering look, and then sighed and waved a hand, which Grace suspected had more to do with his tiredness and preoccupation than with actually wanting him there.

"I'm sorry for interrupting. What was it you were asking about?" Afi said, and he seemed absolutely calm and comfortable under the Captain's stare. The fact that he, too, was wearing baggy night-clothes seemed to bother him not at all. It made Grace want to smile, but instead, she sat up a little more and tried to think like an arrogant noble.

"I was asking about Miss Grace's accent," the Captain said. "It seems unusual for someone from Naian."

Afi turned and grinned at Grace. "You see? Breeding will out." He looked back at Roschan. "Grace's mother is my father's second wife. She's an outlander."

Grace couldn't have missed the way the Captain's gaze sharpened, and returned to Grace. "She is?"

"She came to the city with the fair," Afi added. "A common-born outlander, in fact."

Grace saw what he was doing. By building up an air of resentment between them, he was encouraging Roschan to believe that he was telling more than he might have done. And Grace knew how to play the part of squabbling sibling; she'd seen Maggie and Benjamin do it enough times when they both wanted the same toy.

"She wasn't common-born," she snapped. "There are social ranks outside the wall as well as in it."

"But she came here, to the Kindgdom," the Captain said, brooding, and Grace nodded, not understanding why he had fixed on this.

"Would you mind telling us what's going on here?" Afi asked, dropping the sniping tone of voice.

"If you'll tell me, first," the Captain said, "where you two learned to fight."

Afi sighed, in a gloriously long-suffering manner that she couldn't have imagined even Benjamin pulling off better. "You must have had reports through. We sent enough ourselves. Creatures come over the wall three or four times every year, and it's been worse of late. We came to ask for help, but it seems that there is worse happening here."

The Captain gave him a resigned look. "All right." He leaned back in his chair, and for all Grace's nerves, she felt sorry for him. He looked like he could have slept right there in the blink of an eye. He scratched at his beard as he thought, and then told them, "It's been slow to build. You said you had been here before...?"

"Three years ago," Afi told him.

"It's been longer than that," Roschan said, "but the attacks were few and far between at first. Enough to be explained away by rogue Cold Mages."

"But not now?"

Roschan shook his head. "The Captains met a year ago to discuss what we knew had become a war against the city. Within the last six months, there have been attacks every week. Now, in the last weeks, every day."

"Every day?" Grace asked, shocked. "Haven't the people been moved out? Hasn't the Queen done something?"

The Captain held up his hand, his expression suddenly stern. "I will not discuss the Queen with you. My loyalty is to the palace, and I will not hear it criticised."

Grace flushed, thinking back to the doctor and supposing that it was different coming from someone he knew. She could see that she had made him angry, and she nodded, becoming Grace the shy one all over again.

"And we wouldn't criticise her," Afi said, standing up straight. "But we would try to help, if it's possible. I suppose that men-at-arms will not be on offer to Naian until Kryzna is safe. So let us help you."

The Captain shook his head, but Grace saw the way he sat up a little. "And how would two teenage nobles help us, begging sir's pardon?"

"We know more of fighting them than you do," Afi said, quietly.

The Captain glanced over at Grace, and then back at Afi. "Tell me. Tell me how to beat one of them-"

"Evanescents," Grace said, sitting up a little regretfully out of the comfortable chair.

            The Captain sighed. "Of course. You know a miraculous way of overcoming them-"

            "Salt," she said.

            Roschan paused, his cool eyes flicking between them. Grace knew that look from Dad. It was the face he pulled when he tried to work out if the twins were winding him up.

            "Salt lowers the freezing point of water," she pressed on. "You sprinkle salt on them whilst they're close to trees or in running water, they melt, to be absorbed or scattered depending."

            She saw the effect it had on him, and she liked him for it. He wanted to run out and spread the word to his men right then, not certain that she was telling the truth but willing to chance it if it meant no more of them would die.

            "And I think we can help with more of them," she added. "I just need to look them up in my book-"

            "The book we took from you?" He was eager, and she realised with a feeling of wanting to kick herself that she had told him too much. He could take the book for himself, and do without Grace.

            "Yes. I mean, you could look them up too," she said, a little lamely. "But I know how to use it..."

            She didn't really pay attention to the footsteps in the corridor until she saw the Captain look past her, his eyes narrowing, at a figure in the doorway. She turned, and it was like being punched in the stomach.

            Ruidic smiled, his blue eyes seeming to blaze as he looked at her in absolute triumph. "Grace. I'm so glad to see that you arrived safely."