Page 61 of The Neverfear

She approached the rope, her eyes set on the guards.

‘We have come,’ said Anya, ‘to view the contestants and grant them our blessing and goodwill.’

The men exchanged looks. ‘And who might you be?’

She laughed. It was one of the five royally approved laughs, which princesses learn by heart: warning. ‘If my father finds out that you are ignorant enough to ask me that question,’ she said, ‘you will never work in this city again. Step aside, please.’

The guards hesitated. They exchanged uneasy glances, a brief whisper; then one shrugged and nodded, and the other gave a grudging half-bow.

‘Our apologies, my lady. Do enter, and welcome.’

They made to close the rope again in front of Christopher and Ratwin, but Anya snapped, ‘They’re with me. By the Immortal, do you not recognise a guard when you see one?’

And Anya swept in, leading them past the barrier.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Christopher turned to Anya. ‘That,’ he said, ‘was amazing.’

‘I didn’t knows you could do thats,’ said Ratwin.

‘Princessing is just a kind of acting, I think,’ said Anya. ‘Come on. We don’t know how much time we have.’

They peered into the first tented stable. Inside was sawdust, a drinking trough and what looked like a white mare, but twice as large. Her rider was a rangy man, his hat worn low.

‘Qianlima,’ said Anya. ‘They can gallop hundreds of miles in a day. That one’s not pure-bred, though.’

The next tent held a woman with a blue-black twrch tryth, a boar the size of a carthorse. She grinned, and he saw that her canine teeth had been replaced with jewels.

‘Not a restful personality, I’d imagine,’ said Jacques as they moved swiftly past.

The third tent held a sleek grey mare with a diminutive black horn, being groomed by a very small man with an open shirt and no hair anywhere on his body. He flashed a charming smile at them, but there was a knife in his sleeve.

‘I don’t like the look of that horn,’ said Anya.

‘Or the look on his face,’ said Christopher. He tried to keep his tone lighter than he felt.

The fourth tent held an enormous wolf-like dog, with ears of flame, and a gangling teenager brushing its coat.

‘Kludde,’ said Christopher. ‘I met one before. I was nearly eaten.’

‘What was that like?’ said Anya.

‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’

The fifth tent held … Christopher reared back, his eyes wide and staring.

‘That’s a karkadann,’ he said.

‘They’re dark creatures!’ said Anya. She looked furious.

The woman who rode him was a redhead, dressed in the same shade of blackish-purple as the karkadann’s skin. She looked at them, and nothing in her eyes betokened warmth. ‘Get out,’ she said.

The karkadann, wearing a halter made of iron and a muzzle, turned its poison-tipped horn towards them. They got out.

In the sixth and final tent, there was a stamping sound. Christopher looked around the edge of the tent flap. And instantly their plan went from seeming just-possible to insane.

The hind was huge. She was a deer as large as a carthorse, with immense golden antlers and flecks of foam at the corners of her mouth. She was bound in chains.

A group of three men and a woman all dressed in blue stood in a corner of the tent. One of them balanced on crutches with casts on both legs.