The Hiroth warrior looked away, back down the road, blinking the water from his eyes. ‘And with each step, the cost of my quest becomes greater-an indebtedness you should well understand, Acquitor. The Letherii way of living, the burdens you can never escape. Nor purchase your way clear.’

She reached out for the keys.

He set them into her hand, unwilling to meet her eyes.

We’re no different from those slaves. She hefted the weight of the jangling iron in her hand. Chained together. Yet… who holds the means of our release?

‘Where has he gone?’ Fear asked.

‘To hunt down the Letherii. I trust you do not object to that.’

‘No, but you should, Acquitor.’

I suppose I should at that. She set off to where waited the slaves.

A prisoner near Udinaas had crawled close to him, and Seren heard his whispered question: ‘That tall slayer-was that the White Crow? He was, wasn’t he? I have heard-’

‘You have heard nothing,’ Udinaas said, raising his arms as Seren approached. ‘The three-edged one,’ he said to her. ‘Yes, that one. Errant take us, you took your time.’

She worked the key until the first shackle clicked open. ‘You two were supposed to be stealing from a farm-not getting rounded up by slave-trackers.’

‘Trackers camped on the damned grounds-no-one was smiling on us that night.’

She opened the other shackle and Udinaas stepped out from the line, rubbing at the red weals round his wrists. Seren said, ‘Fear sought to dissuade Silchas-you know, if those two are any indication, it’s no wonder the Edur and the Andii fought ten thousand wars.’

Udinaas grunted as the two made their way to where stood Kettle. ‘Fear resents his loss of command,’ he said. That it is to a Tiste Andii just makes it worse. He’s still not convinced the betrayal was the other way round all those centuries back; that it was Scabandari who first drew the knife.’

Seren Pedac said nothing. As she moved in front of Kettle she looked down at the girl’s dirt-smeared face, the ancient eyes slowly, lifting to meet her own.

Kettle smiled. ‘I missed you.’

‘How badly were you used?’ Seren asked as she removed the large iron shackles.

‘I can walk. And the bleeding’s stopped. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’

‘Probably.’ But this talk of rape was unwelcome-Seren had her own memories haunting her every waking moment. ‘There will be scars, Kettle.’

‘Being alive is hard. I’m always hungry, and my feet hurt.’

1 hate children with secrets-especially ones with secrets they’re not even aware of. Find the right questions; there’s no other way of doing this. ‘What else bothers you about being among the living again, Kettle?’ And… how? Why?

‘Feeling small.’

Seren’s right arm was plucked by a slave, an old man who reached out for the keys with pathetic hope in his eyes. She handed them to him. ‘Free the others,’ she said. He nodded vigorously, scrabbling at his shackles. ‘Now,’ Seren said to Kettle, ‘that’s a feeling we all must accept. Too much of the world defies our efforts to conform to what would please us. To live is to know dissatisfaction and frustration.’

‘I still want to tear out throats, Seren. Is that bad? I think it must be.’

At Kettle’s words, the old man shrank away, redoubling his clumsy attempts at releasing himself. Behind him a woman cursed with impatience.

Udinaas had climbed onto the bed of the lead wagon and was busy looting it for whatever they might.need. Kettle scrambled to join him.

‘We need to move out of this mist,’ Seren muttered. ‘I’m soaked through.’ She walked towards the wagon. ‘Hurry up with that, you two. If more company finds us here, we could be in trouble.’ Especially now that Silchas Ruin is gone. The Tiste Andii had been the singular reason for their survival thus far. When hiding and evading the searchers failed, his two swords found voice, the eerie song of obliteration. The White Crow.

It had been a week since they last caught sight of Edur and Letherii who were clearly hunters. Seeking the traitor, Fear Sengar. Seeking the betrayer, Udinaas. Yet Seren Pedac was bemused-there should have been entire armies chasing them. While the pursuit was persistent, it was dogged rather than ferocious in its execution. Silchas had mentioned, once, in passing, that the Emperor’s K’risnan were working ritual sorceries, the kind that sought to lure and trap. And that snares awaited them to the east, and round Letheras itself. She could understand those to the east, for it was the wild lands beyond the empire that had been their destination all along, where Fear-for some reason he did not care to explain-believed he would find what he sought; a belief that Silchas Ruin did not refute. But to surround the capital city itself baffled Seren. As if Rhulad is frightened of his brother.

Udinaas leapt down from the lead wagon and made his way to the second one. ‘I found coin,’ he said. ‘Lots. We should take these horses, too-we can sell them once we’re down the other side of the pass.’

‘There is a fort at the pass,’ Seren said. ‘It may be un-garrisoned, but there’s no guarantee of that, Udinaas. If we arrive with horses-and they recognize them…’

‘We go round that fort,’ he replied. ‘At night. Unseen.’

She frowned, wiped water from her eyes. ‘Easier done without horses. Besides, these beasts are old, too broken-they won’t earn us much, especially in Bluerose. And when Wyval returns they’ll probably die of terror.’

‘Wyval’s not coming back,’ Udinaas said, turning away, his voice grating. ‘Wyval’s gone, and that’s that.’

She knew she should not doubt him. The dragon-spawn’s spirit had dwelt within him, after all. Yet there was no obvious explanation for the winged beast’s sudden disappearance, at least none that Udinaas would share. Wyval had been gone for over a month.

Udinaas swore from where he crouched atop the bed of the wagon. ‘Nothing here but weapons.’

‘Weapons?’

‘Swords, shields and armour.’

‘Letherii?’

‘Yes. Middling quality.’

‘What were these slavers doing with a wagon load of weapons?’

Shrugging, he climbed back down, hurried past her and began unhitching the horses. ‘These beasts would’ve had a hard time on the ascent.’

‘Silchas Ruin is coming back,’ Kettle said, pointing down the road.

‘That was fast.’

Udinaas laughed harshly, then said, ‘The fools should have scattered, made him hunt each one down separately. Instead, they probably regrouped, like the stupid good soldiers they were.’

From near the front wagon, Fear Sengar spoke. Your Mood is very thin, Udinaas, isn’t it?’

‘Like water,’ the ex-slave replied.

For Errant’s sake, Fear, he did not choose to abandon your brother. You know that. Nor is he responsible for Rhulad’s madness. So how much of your hatred for Udinaas comes from guilt! Who truly is to blame for Rhuladl For the Emperor of a Thousand Deaths?

The white-skinned Tiste Andii strode from the mists, an apparition, his black cloak glistening like snakeskin.

Swords sheathed once more, muting their cries-iron voices reluctant to fade, they would persist for days, now. How she hated that sound.

Tanal Yathvanar stood looking down at the naked woman on his bed. The questioners had worked hard on her, seeking the answers they wanted. She was badly broken, her skin cut and burned, her joints swollen and mottled with bruises. She had been barely conscious when he’d used her last night. This was easier than whores, and cost him nothing besides. He wasn’t much interested in beating his women, just in seeing them beaten. He understood his desire was perversion, but this organization-the Patriotists-was the perfect haven for people like him. Power and immunity, a most deadly combination. He suspected that Karos Invictad was well aware of Tanal’s nightly escapades, and held that knowledge like a sheathed knife.