They obediently followed Gulpe up the stairs to an open door at the top. The meeting hall was sparsely furnished, with only cushions on the floor. A large window was open to the courtyard below and the daffodil-yellow light spilled through onto the floorboards, gently warming the room and bringing with it the sounds of the splashing fountain and snatches of a pretty melody played on a distant lute.

  Gathered on the cushions were many of the changelings Gwin had glimpsed at the Midnight Bard competition. They all turned to watch as she entered the room, many of them with welcoming smiles on their faces. Towards the back of the hall, half-hidden in shadow, Gwin recognised the young woman with the birthmark. The changeling regarded her with dark, solemn eyes, customary hood pulled low over her brow. Her expression was impossible to read but there was something about her that made Gwin pause. Pushing the feeling away, Gwin addressed the group sitting on the cushions.

  “Good afternoon. It is so nice to finally meet you. My name is Gwin and as I am sure you all know by now, I am Asrai.”

  The changelings remained silent. Gwin lowered herself onto a cushion and folded her hands into her lap.

  “Gulpe tells me you all knew I would be here today,” she continued. “Your scrying magick must be very accurate. I would expect no less, everything here in your beautiful sanctuary is so impressive.” She paused to collect herself, wondering how best to proceed. “The fact that you need a sanctuary at all is a terrible travesty though, is it not?”

  “We have Lord Dewer to blame for that,” proclaimed a dark voice.

  Gwin turned to see it came from the woman with the birthmark.

  “And your people, of course. It was the Asrai who birthed our foremothers and promptly fled the land, leaving us at Dewer’s mercy. Kudann was a peaceful place before he came. He brought the druids with him and they darkened every pure thing they touched. Our magick was outlawed, its practitioners strung up from the new city walls. Our people have been taught to believe their gifts are primitive and dangerous. All the old knowledge has been lost to war and time, save that which has been preserved here.”

  “What is your name?” Gwin fought the urge to recoil from the woman’s cold glare. She had the distinct impression the changeling had been waiting a long time to deliver this little speech.

  “I am Sorcha.”

  “I agree with everything you’ve said, Sorcha. But I am not here to stand trial for the ancient crimes of the Asrai. Those events happened in a time before my own. Yes, I am here to make amends but also to start afresh, to forge a new and stronger alliance between our peoples.”

  “You are here because the Asrai were attacked,” Sorcha hissed. “You mean to beg us to die for you.” For a sickening moment, Gwin thought she could feel the eye pendant fluttering against her throat, readying itself to open. Mercifully, Sorcha was silenced by a second changeling and the eye fell still.

  “Hush now, Sorcha. You do not speak for all of us.” The changeling smiled prettily at Gwin. “We came to believe the Asrai were a myth. My name is Tamsin. I am honoured to meet you.”

  The girl could have passed for human with her soft hazel eyes and thick, strawberry blonde hair. It was only as she became animated that Gwin was able to see her true nature, hidden in the minute sparks of colour that blazed in her eyes.

  “The honour is mine,” Gwin replied. “Although I can understand why you might be sceptical of my intentions. It is true, the Asrai were attacked and in our time of need, we had no one to turn to for help. I can see now how foolish my people have been. We cut ourselves off from the world and that was a mistake. I did come to Armoria intending to ask for your aid—” Gwin’s voice trailed away and when she found it again, she spoke so softly her audience strained to hear. “I did not consider how you must blame the Asrai for your current plight. How can I ask you to help my people now?”

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  “You can’t, Mrs,” Gulpe said. He was standing outside the circle of cross-legged changelings, an empty pipe clenched between his teeth. “You thought you’d sweep in here and play your little flute and we’d all follow you like well-trained keuhog pups. It can’t have escaped your attention that no one sought you out after your performance at the Midnight Bard. We owe no loyalty to the Asrai, and we won’t be bringing trouble down on our heads for you.” He removed the pipe to turn his head and spit on the floor.

  Gwin felt ill. She had a strong desire to leave Kudann immediately, to flee from the Bard’s Quarter and leave its people in peace.

  Tamsin reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “My friends may think differently, but I don’t want to see the Asrai suffer. You are our kin, after all.”

  Gwin lifted her gaze to Tamsin’s kind face. “Neither do I wish to see the changelings suffer.” Then, with a sudden clarity that made her breath catch, “I should not be the one asking you for help. I should be offering to help you.” A plan sprang into her mind, so clear and fully formed she thought it must have been a gift from Thetia herself.

  “It is not the Asrai alone who are threatened by Dewer’s monsters. He poses a very real danger to everyone in Joria, not least the changelings whom he has condemned to live in the shadows of his city.” She shifted on her cushion. “Despite his unnaturally advanced years, Dewer has no true power of his own. He has to rely on the druids to perform his vile magicks, and that could be the key to his undoing.”

  “Can’t say I follow you, Mrs,” Gulpe said.

  “Dewer trusts no one but the Salt Swords and the druids. I’ve heard grumbling talk that even his own guild masters are held at arm’s length. I doubt I could pass myself off as a soldier, but I might be able to enter the Crimson Citadel in the guise of an acolyte seeking druidic training. There I could learn his plans, or work to halt them completely.”

  “Your idea might not be so outrageous,” Tamsin said. “If changelings were permitted to train as druids, I would dearly love to join you. Those with magick attuned to Aikana are coming of phase and have become more powerful since the Changing of the Moons. The Crimson Order will be looking to—”

  A sudden cry rent the air, so deep and guttural it seemed to fill the sky and reverberate from the clouds.

  “What in the name of Thetia’s mercy was that?” Gulpe cried.

  They rose from the cushions as one, running to the window and out onto the balcony, searching the sky for answers. Gwin followed Tamsin outside, one hand pressed to the leafling shivering in her pocket. A second cry tore through the city, accompanied by a swelling tremor that shook the buildings on every side, making the ancient brickwork sigh and groan. Gwin lost her balance and fell against the balcony.

  “It’s not coming from Kudann,” Sorcha announced, appearing behind her. “It’s coming from outside, from the Bard’s Quarter.”

  “Are we safe here?” Tamsin said, her voice trembling.

  “I’m sure you are, but my shop bloody isn’t.” Gulpe started to run down the steps.

  “You should stay here,” Gwin called after him.

  A horrible fear was blooming in her chest. She had heard that gut-wrenching cry before. It was the same shriek bellowed by the demon that slew her family upon the ice.

  “I believe one of Dewer’s beasts is abroad,” she tried again, leaning over the balcony.

  Gulpe took no notice of her. He continued his descent, jumping down two steps at a time until he reached the ground. Gwin took off after him, down the steps and across the courtyard, back to the fountain and the secret entrance to Kudann. Just before she ducked beneath the water, she realised she was not alone. Barlo was close behind.

  “Don’t follow me,” she pleaded. “Your life could be in danger.”

  “My people are out there,” Barlo said. “I won’t hide like a coward.”

  “Very well,” Gwin relented. “Stay behind me, and be quick on your toes. If it is as I fear and a demon is attacking the Bard’s Quarter, it will be fast and relentless. Do not put yourself in its path.”

  Gwin stepped into the fountain and pushed her way through the sheet of water as another blaring cry of rage echoed across the city. At her throat, the pendant flickered, suffused with a brightening silver. By the time she reached Gulpe’s shop, the lone purple eye had begun to open.