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M ALTA WAS GETTING cold. The damp earth beneath her – more mud than soil – had saturated her clothing.

The longer she was still, the more her body ached.

She had to do something: go on or go back.

Both options seemed too much trouble. Maybe she could just lie here until somebody else did something about it.

As her breathing calmed, the distant music swelled.

When she gave it her attention, it seemed clearer.

She knew that tune. Surely, she had danced to it, a long time ago.

She heard herself humming softly with it.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head.

Was there light ahead, or was it a trick of her mind?

The pastel lights shifted when she moved her eyes.

She crawled on, towards the light and the music.

With a suddenness that surprised her, she was going downhill.

She lifted her head and found there was space above her now.

She started to get to her hands and knees, and abruptly slid.

She went down the muddy slope on her belly like an otter.

She cried out and tried to put her hands over her face.

It was too reminiscent of the wildly tumbling coach.

But she slid to a stop without hitting any obstacles.

Her outstretched hands found shallow mud, and then cold stone.

The floor of the corridor. She was past the cave-in.

Malta was still afraid to stand. She crept, feeling before her, until she found the wall.

She moved her hands up cautiously as she crouched and then stood.

Suddenly her muddy fingers found the jidzin strip.

As soon as she touched it, the corridor blazed with light.

She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them slowly.

She stared down the corridor with wondering eyes.

Back at the entrance, the walls had been deteriorated, the friezes faded and worn. Here the light emanated not only from the strip, but also from decorative swirls in the wall. Gleaming black tiles shone on the floor. The music was louder, and she heard a woman’s peal of sudden laughter.

She looked down at her muddy and drenched clothing.

She hadn’t expected anything like this. She had thought the city would be deserted.

If she ran into anyone in her bedraggled condition, what would she do?

Malta smiled foolishly; she supposed she could always plead her head injury and pretend her mind was wandering.

Considering her actions this evening, perhaps she was out of her mind.

Her wet skirts slapped against her legs as she tiptoed down the corridor.

There were doors to pass, but most of them were blessedly shut.

The few open ones revealed opulent rooms, with thick rugs on the floors and startling art on the walls.

She had never seen such furniture, couches that were tasselled and draped with rich fabrics, chairs she could have curled up and slept in, tables that were more like pedestals.

This must be the legendary wealth of the Rain Wilds.

Yet she had been told no one lived in the city.

She shrugged. Perhaps that meant they did not eat or sleep here.

She pressed on. At some point, she decided she was not going back the way she had come, no matter what befell her.

She could not force herself through that wet, muddy tunnel again. She’d find another way out.

The music died away for a moment, then swirled back.

This was another tune, but she knew it as well.

She hummed with it a moment to prove she did, then a sudden chill shivered up her back.

She recalled where she had heard this music before; it had been in the first dream that she had ever shared with Reyn.

In the dream, she had walked with him in a silent city.

Then he had brought her to a place where there was music, and light, and people talking.

The music was the same; that was how she knew it.

Still, it seemed odd she knew it so well.

She felt a distant grinding through her feet, and then the floor stepped sideways underneath her.

She clutched at the wall desperately. It trembled under her hand.

Would the quake continue? Would the whole city fall down on top of her?

Her heart hammered and her head spun. The hallway was suddenly full of people.

Tall, elegant women with golden skin and improbable hair swept past her, chattering gaily to one another in a language she had once known.

They didn’t so much as glance at her. Their sleek skirts swept the floor yet were split to the waist. Golden legs flashed scandalously as they walked. Their perfumes were heavy and sweet.

She swayed, blinked, and was suddenly blind.

She had lost the wall. She gave a soft shriek at the sudden blackness, the smell of mould and damp and the silence.

There was a pebbly, sliding sound in the distance.

She tottered towards the wall, caught herself against it, and the light suddenly sprang back into being.

The corridor was empty in both directions.

She had imagined it all. She lifted her free hand to her forehead and touched the injury there.

She should not have tried this. It was too much for her.

Best to find a way out, and go back to her chamber and bed.

If she met anyone, she wouldn’t have to pretend that her mind was wandering; she was now seriously afraid that it was.

She stepped out resolutely, trailing her fingers on the jidzin.

She no longer hesitated at corners or peered into rooms. Instead, she hurried through the labyrinth of corridors, turning down those that looked largest and most used.

The music grew loud at one point, but then a wrong turning led her astray from it.

She came at length to a broad corridor, well lit.

An odd pattern that suggested winged creatures in flight decorated the walls.

The wide corridor culminated in a tall arched door of embossed metal.

Malta halted and stared at it. She knew the insignia on it.

It matched the one on the Khuprus coach door.

It was a big chicken with a crown, looking as if it wanted to fight.

For such a silly motif, it looked both haughty and threatening.

From beyond the door came the sounds of a party in progress.

People were talking and laughing. Music was playing merrily and she heard the lively slap of the dancers’ feet against the floor.

She looked down at her dress once more. Well, there was no help for it.

She just wanted to get out of this place and go back.

She should be accustomed to humiliation by now.

She set one hand to her brow as if she felt faint.

She put her other hand on the great door and pushed.

She was plunged into sudden blackness, stumbling forward as the big door gave swiftly and easily at her touch.

The cold and the damp rose up all around her.

She trod in a deep puddle of cold water.

‘Help!’ she cried out foolishly. But the music and the voices were stilled.

The room smelled like a stagnant pond. Either she was blind, or the darkness was absolute.

‘Hello?’ she called again. Hands held out before her, she edged forward.

But there were steps, going down, and before she could help herself, she toppled.

Touch told her the steps were broad and shallow.

She did not fall far. Yet she did not stand again, but felt her way with her hands and descended them slowly.

At the bottom of the steps, she crawled a short way.

Then she stood and went even more slowly, feeling her way in front of her through the dark.

‘Hello?’ she called again. Her voice bounced in the room. It must be immense.

Her groping hands suddenly encountered a rough wooden barrier.

‘Hello, Malta Vestrit,’ the dragon said to her. ‘So we meet at last. I knew you’d come to me.’

‘Don’t speak like that about your brother!’ Jani Khuprus snapped. She slapped her needlework down onto the table beside her.

Bendir sighed. ‘I’m only telling you what other people are saying. Not what I’m saying. If someone poisons him, it won’t be me.’ He tried for a grin.

Jani clutched at her chest. ‘That isn’t even remotely funny. Oh, Sa, why did not we get that log cut up before he came back?’

‘He planned to stay in Bingtown for several weeks, not one night. I thought I had time. That log is bigger and harder than any other wizardwood we’ve ever cut. Once the pigeons carried us the Bingtown news, I knew we had other things to worry about.’

‘I know, I know.’ His mother dismissed all his excuses with a flap of her hand. ‘Where is he now?’

‘Where he is every night. He’s in his room, drinking by himself. And talking to himself. Wild words about dragons and Malta. And killing himself.’

‘What?’ She stared at him. His words destroyed the small island of evening peace in her sitting room.

‘That’s what Geni heard through the door; it was why she ran to tell me. He keeps saying she’ll kill him at his own hands. That Malta will die, too,’ he added unwillingly.

‘Malta? He’s angry with Malta? But I thought they made up today. I heard…’ Jani’s voice faltered reluctantly.

Bendir picked up her words. ‘We all heard. Reyn was in her bedchamber, holding her on his lap and fondling her. Given his other behaviour lately, a common scandal like simple lust was almost a relief.’