The guard led them through a doorway cordoned off by ropes, and down several branching paths. The estate was a maze on the inside, but their guide seemed to know where he was going. He pushed open a heavy wooden door, and gestured them into a dimly lit chamber draped in heavy curtains. The decor was all done in deep, rich tones of red and purple. A stick of incense smouldered in a burner on a small end table, and there were a few chairs scattered around the near half of the room. The far end was taken up by a massive four-poster, the drapes at the foot drawn aside. Barely visible in the darkness within, a slight figure reclined, half buried under mounds of expensive blankets and silk-encased pillows.

"Good evening," the Lady said, in a voice thin and cracked. A gloved hand emerged from the bed, turning up the wick on an oil lamp placed next to the table. The flame sputtered and strengthened, sending flickering shadows across the walls. The hand withdrew. "I trust you are enjoying the festivities. Would that I could attend in a greater capacity."

"Still, I can at least grant a few audiences. I am not dead yet, whatever my detractors might say." The voice carried a hard edge to it. Even bedridden, here was a woman who was used to getting her way. "Suppose you're wondering why I've asked for you, hmm? You're new here. Recently come to Scintilla, I understand, from the distant reaches of the Expanse. I wanted to take your measure personally."

She lapsed into expectant silence, clearly waiting for Macharius to make some sort of introduction.