the gate guards. Hence most of the spectators were of the upper class, hangers
on of the nobility, or making an appearance at the law courts. Not a few bore a
general resemblance, in figure or clothing and in their retinue, to Melilot, who
was in any case a frequent visitor when transcripts of evidence were in demand.
Therefore his presence and Jarveena’s were unremarkable. Moreover word had got
about that today was the last day when the crack imperial guards would perform
the ceremonial drill before fifteen of them were ordered back to Ranke. There
was a much larger throng than usual awaiting the appearance of the governor, one
of whose customary chores this was whenever he was in residence.
It was a warm, dry, dusty day. The sun cast strong dark shadows. Tents,
pavilions, stone walls seemed all of a substance. So in a way did people,
especially those in armour. Under closed visors, any soldier might have been
mistaken for any other of like stature.
Strictly it was not the turn of a guard detachment from the watch-house on
Processional Way to take over from the Hell Hounds. But a few bribes, and a
sharp order from Aye-Gophlan, and the problem had been sorted out.
Jarveena composed her features and did her best to look as though she were just
another casual passer-by impressed by the standard of marching of troops from
the capital, rather than a person whose dearest ambition for revenge bid fair to
be fulfilled.
But her mouth kept wanting to snarl open like a wolf’s.
The relieving guard marched in from the direction of Governor’s Walk, exchanged