A young man stood up inside the vanishing wreckage utterly immaculate in black jacket, pants, and cloak with the full gold face-mask of the carnival. A long pony-tail of blond hair hung down his back. He bowed low to the cheering crowd, kissed an utterly bewildered guardsman on both cheeks, and skipped away eastward. Geraint shot after him like a greyhound after a rabbit.