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few weeks have been hard. Not just on me, but on many people. I just seem to be in the middle of it.' He couldn't even look her in the eye. 'The Emperor has told me to go. Sort of.'

  'So, you're running away?'

  It wouldn't be the first time, he thought. He finally found the strength to look over at Alyssa. Her eyes were filling up with tears. 'There's nothing for me left here,' he said. 'Maybe it's better if I go.'

  'Nothing left for you?' Alyssa said. 'Are you calling this nothing. We were getting on so well, and I thought...surely we're worth some sort of a chance. I was beginning to hope that we might be able to build some sort of future together.'

  'I know,' he said, 'as did I for a while. I'm sorry.'

  Alyssa's tears flowed now, and she turned, lifting her hands to her face and running from the room and out into the street. Winterburne felt hollow, as if his heart had been smashed into a million pieces, but even though he found it hard, he looked through the window and watched her run away. He had hurt her badly, he knew, but he carried on watching until he could see Alyssa no more, gone now into the alleys that led her home.

  He sighed and turned slowly, taking a long last look around the room, and leaned to picked up his bag, throwing it across his shoulder. Then, he walked out of the place that he had called home for so long, and as he locked the door behind him he stole a glance in the direction in which Alyssa had ran, hoping, perhaps, that she was still there, waiting. But she had gone.

  He turned and headed towards West Street, pushing his way through the crowds of people that stood in his way, ignoring their protests and stares. It didn't take long for him to get to the Watch House stables where his brown mare was ready for him as usual, the stable hands had seen to that, but thankfully they were not around to see him take her.

  He made his way over to the shelves at the back of the stable, reaching up to pull down one of the blankets, wrapped tightly in a roll. Winterburne tied the pack to the back of the saddle and then patted the beast's neck before pushing his foot into the stirrup and lifting himself up into the seat. He took one last look around the place and kicked into her side, steering her out of the stable, across the yard and through the gates leading onto West Street.

  The crowds were already building as the people headed for the East Gate, the usual place at which the Emperor presented his trophy each year, but he found himself not caring. It was no longer his problem. In some ways he felt relieved, almost as if a load had been lifted from him and someone else would have to deal with the pickpockets and the heaving, and the high spirits. He headed west, towards the harbour for one last look, and from there he would turn south. He was no longer Captain Thomas Winterburne of the Highport City Watch but just an ordinary citizen of the Empire, anonymous, and he was going home.

  3

  'I went to where he lives and his rooms are all locked up.' Moore shrugged. 'Then, I checked the stables and his horse has gone, Lieutenant.' A look of incredulity crossed his face. 'And so has a road pack.'

  Cromwell's brow furrowed. 'There's no sense in it,' he said. 'It's like he's just...well, just vanished.' He walked around the desk to Winterburne's chair and sat down. 'How can that be? The whole place depends on him. He can't just go.'

  'I've sent Roland to find the Vawdrey woman,' Moore added. 'They seem to be getting close, hopefully the Captain might have told her something.'

  'Good thinking, Sergeant,' Cromwell said. 'Let me know the moment he gets back.'

  This was a bad business, he thought, picking up a pen and tapping it on the desktop. Something big was happening, but whatever it was it was something far beyond his understanding. What was it that Winterburne had said? Something about a broken nose being the least of his problems, wasn't it? Was that the reason he had gone missing?

  As his eyes wandered around the room he couldn't but help feeling that there had suddenly been a shift in the balance of the world. It was almost as if everything had been turned upside down and the pieces had yet to settle. Winterburne gone? It was a bad business alright. If there was one thing that he had learned from the Captain it was that the universe did not like voids, and from where he was sitting, there was a large Winterburne-shaped hole in the world waiting to be filled with an answer.

  'In fact,' Cromwell said, 'see if you can't find Roland and tell him not to come back until he has spoken to her.'

  Moore scooted out of the office, and then, moments later his head appeared around the door again. 'Sir?' he said.

  'What is it, Sergeant?'

  'There's someone here to see you.'

  Lawrence Draper pushed his way past Moore and flowed into the office, his deep purple-coloured cloak streaming behind him as if the breeze from outside had somehow followed him into the room.

  'Master Draper?' Cromwell said. 'This is a surprise. I didn't expect to ever see you in the office of the Watch Captain.'

  'Nor I expected to ever be here.'

  Draper, had a stern look on his face and as his eyes ran around the room he grimaced as he looked down his nose at what he saw. To Cromwell, it seemed as if the man had quickly judged his surroundings and had already planned how he might dispatch his staff to have the place cleaned up. He stood and stepped out from behind the desk, walking over to the man and shaking his hand.

  'Captain Winterburne is not here, I'm afraid,' he said. 'To be honest, I have no idea when he will return.'

  Draper looked Cromwell up and down, as if weighing his worth. 'It is not the Captain that I have come to see.'

  'Oh?'

  'No,' Draper said. 'I come with a message from the Palace. It is specifically for you.'

  'The Palace?'

  'Yes, Lieutenant.'

  'For me?'

  Draper nodded. 'Yes, Lieutenant. The Emperor has personally requested that you attend his office.'

  'When?'

  'Immediately.'

  Draper reached into his jacket and pulled out a note, handing it to Cromwell. He opened the letter and read, then lifted his eyes to the Emperor's valet.

  'But why?' Cromwell scanned the words on the paper again but he was too preoccupied with what Draper had to say to register their meaning.

  'Even if I knew,' Draper said, 'I would not be at liberty to say, other than perhaps to reinforce the words that you should come with me.'

  Cromwell gulped. 'Does this have anything to do with Captain Winterburne being missing?'

  'In a manner of speaking it does, Lieutenant.'

  'So you know where the Captain is?'

  'I do,' Draper replied.

  'Then where is he?'

  'It would seem that Lord Winterburne has left the city.'

  Cromwell looked at Draper, open mouthed. 'He's what?'

  oOo

  'I have Lieutenant Cromwell outside to see you, Your Highness.' Draper approached the solid oak desk in Frederick's office, and waited for a response.

  Frederick looked up and saw that Draper was blinking and moving his head from side to side to try to stop the sunlight from blinding him as it streamed in from the high windows at the back of the room. He smiled; this was precisely the reason why he had chosen this room as his office. It was just a small detail, but weren't they often the ones that people remembered, he thought.

  'How does our young Lieutenant seem to you, Lawrence?' he asked.

  'Nervous, Sire.'

  'Really?' Frederick placed his pen onto the desk and grasped his hands together, smiling. 'Did he tell you why?'

  'Not exactly, Your Highness,' Draper said, 'but on the way to the Palace he did say that he had never actually met you in person.' Draper still fidgeted on the spot, trying to avoid the worst of the sun's glare. 'And, he is curious as to the whereabouts of Lord Winterburne.'

  'Naturally,' Frederick said, 'I would not expect anything else. He is a bright fellow and after all he is a man who is used to asking a lot of questions, not to mention receiving the answers.'

  He got up from his chair and wandered over to his bookshelf, picking a book and thum
bing through the leaves. Once he had found the particular page he was looking for, he traced his finger down the column of words, until he found the entry he needed. He nodded to himself and then slammed the book closed, sliding it under his arm.

  'So, Lawrence,' he said, 'what do you think of him?'

  'Think of him, Sire?'

  'Yes, our young Lieutenant. Tell me your thoughts about him.'

  'I don't believe that it's my place to say, Sire.'

  'Oh, go on,' Frederick said, 'I'd like to know.' He smiled, and then said, 'No, in fact, Lawrence, I insist that you tell me. It is, what you might call, a direct order.'

  Draper took a deep breath. 'Very well, Sire,' he said. 'May I say then, ithat it strikes me that he is very young.'

  'Very young?' Frederick was now interested to hear the man's response. He took the book from beneath his arm and returned it to the shelf, pushing it back into its hole. Turning, he said, 'Tell me more. I should not have thought that age was a barrier to assuming a position of authority, surely.'

  'No, of course not, Your Highness.'

  'What then? It's always been my view that if you're good enough, you're old enough.' Frederick smiled, watching Draper, still standing in the sunlight. 'Don't you agree?'

  'I do, Sire, but it strikes me that the question we should be looking to answer is whether he is good enough?'

  'Then you are not convinced of his credentials?'

  'Let's say that my personal view, Sire,' he paused, 'if I may be so bold, and for what it's worth, is that the jury, if we had such things in Highport, is still very much out in the back room drinking