After the bitter ending to the scholarship test, Wilm needed to be by himself. His hopes of studying at the college had been dashed and he just wanted to get away, but he could not head home without thanking Llian.

Remembering the silver tar that Stanzer and Old Sal had saved him, Wilm stopped at a baker’s shop and eyed a large plum pie. It was expensive, two copper grints, but after eating nothing all day he could afford it. It smelled glorious and tasted even better. As he walked along he ate it in small, delicate bites, savouring every sweet morsel.

It took him all the way to the western gate of Chanthed. He kept going, walking fast for an hour and more, until he came to a rivulet. He was miles out of town but it did not bother him; it was a pleasant night and he was used to walking. He had a long drink, washed his face and headed back.

Llian had promised to be there, yet there was still no sign of him when Wilm returned to their room after nine in the evening, and his pack and saddlebags were gone. Wilm was really worried now, for Llian was a man of his word. He must be in some trouble, no doubt to do with Thandiwe, who seemed a very poor friend.

Wilm took off his shirt, reached into his pack for a clean one and saw the folded piece of paper. As he unfolded it, three tars fell out. He read the note, then stared dazedly at the coins. Llian was in terrible trouble, yet he had taken the time to think of Wilm and give him money from his own small purse. Wilm’s eyes moistened. He would not think of the money as a gift; it was a loan that he would pay back in full.

How could he find out what had happened to Llian? He was walking past an outdoor café when he saw a face he recognised, the short girl who had answered the first question in the scholarship test. The girl who, in the gown that had been far too big for her, had looked as though she was trapped in a tent.

What was her name? Dajaes Xix. Up close she was older than he’d thought, his own age or even a bit older. She was slowly sipping a lemon drink as if trying to make it last, and she looked desperately unhappy.

“Hello,” said Wilm. “I saw you at the test. I’m Wilm. You’re Dajaes, aren’t you?”

She gave him a tentative smile. She had small white teeth and soft brown eyes, and Wilm thought she looked rather nice.

“You remembered my name?” Her voice was timid, almost inaudible. “You made a joke after you fell on your face. If that had happened to me, I would have died.”

“I just opened my mouth and out the words came.”

Dajaes shook her head. “And even after falling down, and people laughing at you, you gave a very good answer. You must be so clever.”

She looked down at the table, her lower lip trembling. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears.

“Not really,” said Wilm. “I’d heard the tale told only a few days ago. Do you mind if I…” He gestured to the empty chair.

“Please do. I… I don’t know anyone in Chanthed. I’m so lonely.” She paused then said in a rush, “I’ve spent all my free time for the last year studying for the test.” Her lip trembled again and tears magnified her eyes. “Now I’ve got to go home and confess I failed because my books were too old, and Father will beat me black and blue.”

She rubbed her arms and Wilm noticed several old bruises, faded to the palest yellow.

“That’s terrible,” he said. “I failed too. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“I know what’s going to happen to me. Father will marry me off to one of his disgusting old drinking mates, and he’ll beat me too, and before you know it I’ll have three or four screaming kids and then I’ll die in childbirth like my mother and my aunt.” She burst into tears.

Wilm squirmed. Not having sisters or close relatives, he had not encountered a crying girl at close range before and had no idea how to help her. Impulsively, he reached out and took her small hands in his own, holding them until the weeping fit passed.

“You’re so kind,” she said. “I’m sure I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m sure you do, since you’ve worked so hard. Anyway, you seem really nice. Did you really want to be a chronicler?”

“No, being a historian is a little… dry. I wanted to be a teller of the Great Tales. I’ve been writing stories since I was a little girl; it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Father is a tin miner and he thinks telling is stupid, but I’ve got an uncle who loves the Great Tales and he talked Father into giving me this one chance. But hardly any of the questions were about the tales – they were nearly all chronicler stuff – and… and… What am I going to do, Wilm?”

She looked as though she was going to cry again. Wilm could hardly blame her; if his fate was to be married off to some foul old drunk who was going to beat him he would cry too. But there was nothing he could do; tomorrow they would leave Chanthed, go their separate ways, and never see each other again.

He squeezed her hands. “I’d better go. I’m looking for a friend. He’s in trouble and I’ve got to help him.”

Her face crumpled; she must have been hoping he would stay. “What’s his name?”

“Llian. He’s a teller.”

Her eyes widened; she drew in a sharp breath. “I’ve read the Tale of the Mirror fifteen and a half times. I made my own copy from the one in the Ridsett library. I can’t believe it’s true.”

“What are you talking about? The masters voted it a Great Tale.”

Dajaes smiled, and for the first time her sad face came alive. “Not Llian’s Great Tale, silly. What they’re saying he did.”

“What are they saying?” said Wilm.

“That he murdered Master Wistan before the election this afternoon, then ran for his life.”

Wilm rocked back on his chair. “The master has been murdered?”

“His throat was cut.” She shuddered. “That poor old man. He could barely get out of his chair.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Wilm. “Llian is gentle and kind and generous. Look!”

He pulled out the note, which was still wrapped around the three silver tars. “Even though he was on the run and needed every grint he had, he came back and left this for me.”

Awestruck, Dajaes reached out and touched a fingertip to the words written by the great teller. “He’s been my hero ever since my uncle started reading me the tale. I was only nine, and I didn’t know what a lot of the words meant, but it carried me away into another world.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. A man like Llian would never do such a thing.”

“Then we’ve got to help,” Wilm said impulsively. “We may be the only people in Chanthed who believe he’s innocent.”

Her brown eyes glowed for a few seconds, then she shook her head. “I’ve got to go home,” she said dully.

“So your father can marry you to a drunken old brute?”

“It… it’s my fate.”

“No, we can change our lives.” The blood was pounding through Wilm’s veins; he felt inspired. “I’ve got no father and my mother is the poorest woman in Casyme, but she saved up her grints to give me this chance.”

“But we failed, and now we have to go home.”

“No, we don’t. I’m going to make something of my life. When the opportunity comes I’m going to grab it with both hands and never look back. You can too.”

“I only have eleven grints,” said Dajaes. “Just enough to pay for my food on the river ferry home to Ridsett.”

“How far is that?”

“Forty leagues. The ferry takes a week.”

“I’ve got four silver tars,” said Wilm impulsively. “You can stay with me and we can clear Llian’s name. And then… something will come up.” He knew it would; he felt transformed. He had a mission in life – he had to save his friend. The key to success is never giving up.

A flush appeared on her pale cheeks. Belatedly Wilm realised that she had taken his proposal in a different way. He expected her to smack him across the face and walk out, but she just sat there, staring at him.

“I… I didn’t mean…” he said stiffly.

“I would be disgraced,” said Dajaes.

“My mother brought me up to be a gentleman,” said Wilm primly.

He had never been closer to a young woman than he was now, save for that friendly kiss from Aviel when he was leaving Casyme. In truth, Wilm was a late developer, and physical intimacy was too embarrassing to think about.

“My father would not see it that way.”

“Would he come after you?”

She laughed hollowly. “He wouldn’t waste the money. He would cast me out. I would never be able to go home.”

Wilm did not think that would be much of a loss but was wise enough not to say it. “I’d hate it if I couldn’t go home.”

After a long pause, Dajaes said, “I’d miss my uncle.”

Wilm stared at his hands. What could he, who was famous for getting things wrong, do to help Llian? He could not imagine where to begin.

“But Llian has been unjustly accused of murder,” said Dajaes as if she were thinking things through as she spoke. “He’s been framed by the real killer and we’re the only people who believe in him. We have to try and save him.” She stood up suddenly, and there was such solemn resolve on her young face that his own spirits lifted. “I will endure the disgrace. We’re going to save Llian, together.”

He extended his hand, but she moved in and gave him a quick hug, then stepped back as if to make clear that it was an entirely businesslike arrangement.

“How do we start?” she said.

Wilm was dazed. He had not imagined that she would agree. Now she had, the surge of energy that had carried him along faded, and the plum pie was a distant memory. “I’m so hungry I can’t think straight. Have you had dinner?”

She shook her head. “Everything is so expensive – test entrance fee, library fee, robes fee…”

“I’d be broke if it wasn’t for Llian,” said Wilm, “and the woman on the door. She remitted the entrance fee because I knew him. It’s a tar I never expected to have; let’s spend it on the best dinner we can get.”

“Let’s not,” she said sensibly. “It may take a long time to clear Llian’s name and we only have your four tars and my eleven grints. Let’s have the cheapest dinner that will fill us up, and get to work.”

They had big bowls of vegetable soup and chunks of coarse freshly baked bread spread with rich brown dripping. It was delicious, though Wilm hardly tasted it; he had to keep grinding his knuckles into his thigh to remind himself that this was real. That he was sitting opposite a very nice girl who loved the tales even more than he did, and they were about to go on a rescue mission into the unknown with not the faintest idea where it would lead them.

“First we have to find out the facts,” said Dajaes. “I’ve heard rumours but I’m sure most of them aren’t true.”

She had very good manners, always setting her knife and spoon down perpendicular to the table edge and never putting her elbows on the table. Wilm made sure he did not slurp his soup and worried about dribbling it down his front.

“I’d better go and see the sergeant,” said Wilm. “He’ll want to talk to me, since I came here with Llian.”

“I’ll come with you. He might not be so hard on you then. I’ll… I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend.”

That warmed him. They finished their dinner and headed down to the watch house. Wilm felt self-conscious walking beside her, almost as self-conscious as he had going up onto the stage at the scholarship test.

But this time it was a good feeling.