Alyn had been expecting the question. "I think she's telling the truth," she said. "Probably. But I don't think she liked Lord Cassian."

Miervaldis raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "No, I don't think she does. Anything else strike you?"

Alyn thought over the conversation. "She came on her rounds, she found the body, she didn't investigate -" remembering the sight, she shuddered in sympathy - "then she went for help. It seemed quite logical, I think. She didn't scream, at least."

"No, she seemed quite calm, given everything. What about the locked door?"

"It depends where the other door to the chamber leads. Is it to Lord Cassian's rooms?"

"I expect so. That will make it harder, of course."

"Harder?"

"Harder to prove his innocence. If it exists. Hmmm." He frowned, deep in thought. "Alyn, could you get some tea, please? You'll have to work out where the kitchen is, I'm afraid. I want to think a bit before we see Lord Cassian."

"Yes, my lord," Alyn said cheerfully, and hurried out. She heard him lock the door behind her.

Their rooms were towards one end of a long corridor, richly carpeted, of course. Alyn scurried down to the other end, where it opened up onto a long, gracious hall with a staircase. Guessing that the kitchen was further down, she bounced down the stairs and set off at random, doing her best to remember where she'd come from. There were plenty of servants along the corridors and the occasional noble, but she didn't stop to ask directions. She wanted to explore a bit, find her own way around, and so she ventured through halls and down corridors, down staircases and once or twice into ornamental gardens where the sun lit bright streams of water splashing elegantly into stone bowls. Eventually, she became aware of a rich meaty scent, and followed her nose through three more hallways until she reached the enormous main kitchen.

She was stopped on the threshold by an officious-looking under-cook who crossed his arms and glared down his nose at her.

"What do you want?"

"My lord wants tea, please," she said politely. Alienating cooks was always a bad idea.

"Your lord? You're a page? Why aren't you in lessons?"

"I'm serving my lord," Alyn said a bit indignantly. Since when did pages have to be in lessons? Serving was the default, wasn't it?

"I don't know you. Who's your lord?" He still looked belligerent, but he did turn and call over his shoulder, "tea on a tray, Bensen!"

"Lord Miervaldis. We just arrived," and struck by an idea, Alyn edged closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "He's here about the murder, you know."

"Really?" There was still suspicion in his tone, but he sounded more convinced. Alyn nodded importantly, hoping she hadn't made a mistake.

"We saw it all last night," she said, trying to sound like she was confiding hidden truths. Interest gleamed in the under-cook's eyes.

"S'true," piped a voice from behind the under-cook, and a pair of bright blue eyes gleamed cheek at her from beneath badly cut blond hair. "I saw them coming in, I did."

"What do you know, Bensen?" The under-cook took the tray, which had a pot of tea and two cups on, with a set of neatly-arranged, elaborately-decorated biscuits and a jug of milk.

"Like I said. I saw them coming in. And I saw them going in."

"To Lord Cassian's chambers?"

"That's right! Did you find anything?" Bensen addressed Alyn directly.

"The body," she said, receiving the tray from the under-cook. "It was really horrible."

"Do you think Lord Cassian did it?"

"I don't know. It's too soon to tell, really."

"I bet he did," said Bensen. "Just the sort of thing he'd do. He killed a man in a duel once, you know -"

"Shut up," interrupted the under-cook. "You shouldn't be talking so, you know that. Not here, anyway." He cast a glance up the corridor where a pair of servants were carrying boxes. Alyn wondered if he wanted to know more too.

"I should go," she said. "I have to get this back."

"Do you know where you're going?" Bensen asked.

"Not really," she admitted.

"Where're your lord's chambers?" said the under-cook.

"I don't know. Um, a few floors up, and a bit away from here..." The under-cook glared at her, but Bensen ducked under his arm and popped through the doorway to stand with Alyn.

"I know where to go," he said cheerfully. "Follow me," and he was off up the corridor. Alyn turned to follow, and swung back, steadying the tray as the cups rattled.

"Thank you very much," she said, bobbed politely, then set off after Bensen's retreating back, balancing the heavy tray.