The morning of departure arrived grey and busy, the atrium filled with a disorder Marcus had never once seen it hold, baggage stacked in leather-strapped bundles along the walls, servants moving at a brisker pace than the household's usual measured rhythm, his mother's voice carrying from somewhere near the kitchens issuing instructions to a cook who did not appear to be listening. It did not feel, Marcus thought, like the departure for an evening's banquet, however grand. It felt like the house