11
‘Farringale,’ I repeated.
‘Yes,’ said Baron Alban.
‘Mythical, mysteriously abandoned, long-lost seat of the Troll Court for hundreds of years Farringale?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘The unfindable version, or is there some other Farringale that’s still marked on a map somewhere?’
‘Why don’t you let me worry about how to find it, while you worry about how to get in?’
‘All right. Be right back.’ I slid past him and made for the door.
‘Uh, Ves?’ he called. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m going to ask Milady.’
‘What? Why! She will only say no.’
‘You don’t know that for sure.’
‘No,’ said Milady.
I’d given it my best shot, honest. I had begun with a polite enquiry after her health, paired with my usual curtsey, and opened the discussion with: ‘It emerges that our excellent Baron Ambassador s
