I've seen excitement, and I've seen boredom. And boredom was best. -- Terry Pratchett, The Colour of Magic

Music was something Qihadal couldn't quite understand. She appreciated it when it was tuneful and played well, and she could tell when someone was making a sorry mess of a piece, but the actual theory and what distinguished music from a series of random sounds made very little sense to her. Even so, she knew that whatever she was listening to right now was not music.

The gods alone knew what it was. Some eldritch horror singing to its worshippers, perhaps. She was certain about one thing. It had no business being in the palace.

When Gialma told her his sister wanted to practice her music somewhere she wouldn't disturb anyone, Qihadal had imagined a piano concerto or a zither melody. Not... this. If this was the princess's idea of not disturbing anyone, Qihadal shuddered to think what she was like when trying to disturb them.

A low not-at-all-musical wail drifted out of the room where Rurika was practising. It was quickly followed by a series of notes so off-key no one could have told what the tune was supposed to be.

The problem was that Gialma's old room was not nearly as isolated as it had felt to him while he stayed there. It was separated from the most commonly-used sitting rooms by only a few hallways. If they had doors at all they weren't nearly thick enough to block out a loud and persistent noise. A noise like a badly-played musical instrument, for example.

Qihadal had come to this sitting room because it was well away from the part of the palace where the workmen were currently putting up scaffolding. She'd thought she would be far away from the racket they made. Well, she was right about that. Unfortunately she had just exchanged one din for another.

She gritted her teeth and tried to pretend she heard nothing. Reading her book proved impossible. She sipped her tea and prayed for the noise to end soon. It didn't. Goodness gracious, how long was this going to go on?

By the time she finished her second cup of tea there was still no sign of the impromptu concert coming to an end. Qihadal pictured a map of the palace. The archery practice grounds were too close to where the renovations were currently being carried out. The fencing practice grounds were out of bounds to everyone but the palace guards while they carried out a training exercise. Her own rooms were being cleaned and repainted.

That was the trouble with living in what was essentially a building site. Almost everywhere was noisy, almost everywhere was covered in dust, and you were always in someone's way.

What events were being held today? Had she any chance of making a hasty escape to the theatre?

No matter how annoying a sound was, people could generally drown it out if they concentrated hard enough on their thoughts. It took Qihadal a minute to realise the music had stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally!

Then it started again. She groaned aloud.

~~~~

Drazenmira's reaction to Kiroshnoy's second disappearance was at first panic. It quickly turned into annoyance. Then to exasperation. She had only just returned and now she was missing again? It could be nothing but a stupid act of defiance.

If she was angry when she thought Kiroshnoy was gone, it was nothing compared to her anger when she rushed to her daughter's room and found she was already back.

"This behaviour has to stop," she said icily. "I cannot allow you to wander all over the kingdom when you feel like it."

Kiroshnoy had the grace to look mildly embarrassed. "I wasn't gone long. I just wanted to talk to Hailanyu. He's one of my new friends."

An alarming suspicion entered Drazenmira's mind. She stared at her daughter in horror. Surely it couldn't be-- She was much too young for anything of the sort! Well, whether there was any basis for her suspicions or not, she would make sure Kiroshnoy never saw that young man again.

"You must never leave without warning us again. It's far too dangerous. You could be injured or killed, and we would never know about it."

Kiroshnoy said nothing. She looked around with a furtive expression. Drazenmira's heart sank. What danger had her foolish daughter been in while she was missing the first time?

"Don't worry, mother," Kiroshnoy said cheerfully after an uncomfortably long silence. "I know how to control my powers now."

The idea that anyone in her family had magical powers was something Drazenmira was simply unprepared to comprehend. She pretended not to hear. Magic didn't exist. It didn't.

~~~~

Most people would assume the emperor would be the first person to hear important news. Surely he if anyone would always know exactly what was happening. Most people were wrong. Kilan had heard fifteen different accounts of what happened in Malish. None of the people delivering them had been there themselves. All of them cobbled together stories full of wild inventions. And no one could tell him where the assassins were now.

Horrible visions of them all being captured and killed distracted him from the day's paperwork. At this very minute they might be in a torture chamber or lined up in front of a firing squad. Why didn't he have more spies in Malish? Could no one--

The temperature in his office dropped dramatically. He'd almost forgotten there was one person who could answer all his questions.

Death looked more grim than he expected. For one chilling moment he thought all his worst fears had come true. Everyone was dead. How could he explain this to their families?

"I still can't find Riyome," Death said. That was the last thing Kilan expected to hear. He blinked in confusion as she continued. "She's somewhere in Nirne, unless she's found enough money to leave. I just can't find her anywhere." She paused and looked at him. "Kilan. You're worrying again. What is it this time?"

He might as well go straight to the point. "What's happened to the assassins?"

"Oh yes, the assassins." A wry smile replaced Death's glum expression. "They're all safe and in one piece. A little wiser, maybe, and I don't expect they'll ever volunteer for a mission like this again. At the minute they're in a train station in Istogu."

Kilan stared. "Istogu? How did they get there so fast?"

"It's a very long story." Was there any other sort of story nowadays? "They had some unexpected help."

Kilan immediately thought of the Reapers joining forces with the assassins. I hope they weren't too obvious.

"Reality warpers are increasingly common these days." What had that got to do with anything? "They took a short detour to Nirne after they escaped. Now I believe they're arguing about where to go next."

What were they doing in Nirne? Kilan wondered. It's nowhere near Malish's capital.

"You can expect Nimetath to send a message later today." Death paused. Her eyes glazed over in the eerie way that indicated she was using her powers to look into the future. "You can also expect the Malishese assassin this evening. Well, he won't actually come near you. He thinks you're at Zasordoth Palace."

Kilan's eyes widened. "But Qihadal's there!"

Death smiled. "Don't worry. Qihadal's in no danger from any assassins. It's more likely to be the other way round. And this one is in for a nasty shock. Did you know that your cousin Rurika is trying to learn music? She's utterly terrible at it."

He'd seen his aunt grumble about this in one of her semi-regular letters to all of her relatives. Princess Kanlao had a habit of collecting family gossip and sending it to as many Caranilnavs as she was on good terms with. Sometimes he thought she would have a very good career as a journalist. Other times he wondered if she already was one. There were a collection of magazines -- of varying reputation -- that had an amazingly accurate knowledge of royal foibles and follies. They often credited an unnamed source for their information. It wasn't hard to draw certain conclusions.

Even her own children weren't safe from having their most egregious antics shared with half the royal family. Kilan had never paid much attention to his aunt's gossip so he was unaware of the full details. But more to the point, what had any of this got to do with assassins?

Death's smile widened when he asked this. "Wait and see."

~~~~

The last time Hailanyu was in Istogu was immediately before the group went into Malish. He had been able to form no opinion of it then. Now he was finally back in a place where everyone spoke some Carannish, among people who were not likely to have him arrested and executed as a spy. Even if Istogu had been a frigid wasteland he would have loved it simply for those reasons.

Best of all, he would soon be home. He'd never looked forward to going back to his parents' house as much as he did now. After weeks of barely edible food and no proper beds or baths, even the thought of the crowded, noisy manor was welcome. At least he would never have to worry about whether or not he'd get more than one meal a day again.

He was so preoccupied by thinking about all his favourite foods that he'd almost completely forgotten about his argument with Kiroshnoy. He didn't even notice a small slip of paper fall onto his lap. When at last he dragged himself out of his thoughts he stared at it blankly.

Where did that come from? he wondered.

Curious, he picked it up.

Kiroshnoy's sorry and she accepts your apology. That was all it said. No signature, no seal, no sign of how it got here or who had left it.

Nimetath and Qiyuan were at the telegraph office, arguing over how much it was wise to say in their message to Emperor Tinuviel. It was just as well no one else was around this early in the morning. Neither was speaking quietly. The other assassins either wandered around aimlessly or sat down on the station's benches and went to sleep. Hailanyu still wasn't able to sleep properly. The most he could manage was a few minute's dozing. So he was certain no one had come near him.

Kiroshnoy must have sent it, he thought. But why's she speaking in third person?

Oh well. He could send a reply later, after he finally managed to sleep.

~~~~

What an awful day, Gialma thought.

First Rurika and her, ahem, music lesson. Then the strange girl appearing out of thin air. Then Varan told him what Hailanyu had been up to on his mission. It was enough to turn anyone's hair white. The mere thought of his little brother being held at knife-point struck terror into his heart. If Zafadin had been within easy reach Gialma would have murdered him on the spot. Now he came home to find his mother was destroying -- er, rearranging -- his house. All those ugly heirlooms he'd hidden in unused rooms were now proudly displayed in the entrance hall.

He took one look at the living room -- virtually unrecognisable now that half the furniture from the attic had been dragged down into it -- and regretted ever coming home.

His mother finally noticed him. "Ah, there you are! I think this vase would be much better in here than in the attic." The vase in question was an eyesore covered with badly-painted birds that looked more like lizards. "Would you go and get--"

Oh no. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into Kanlao's home improvement project. Gialma thought quickly. He conjured up an excuse as he spoke. "Sorry, Mother. I just came back to... to... Empress Qihadal wants to borrow a book. I came back to fetch it."

Surely no one would believe such an obvious excuse. He braced himself for the explosion.

It never came. His mother beamed at him. "I'm glad to hear you're making friends. You'd better not keep the empress waiting."

Hardly able to believe his luck, Gialma scurried upstairs, selected a book at random, and fled the house. He only looked at what the book was after he was safely away. If he was lucky it would be the sort of book Qihadal might possibly be interested in.

Oh dear. It was a book on the care of ornamental trees.