‘I don’t want to,’ Sweetest Sufferance replied. And then she shivered. ‘That was the first time, you know, them trying to get in my trousers like that.’

‘Cursed with rigor mortis, maybe.’

She snorted. ‘You kidding me? Whatever they had down there wasn’t even real, like maybe sticks tied on or something.’ She drank down some wine, then sighed and looked round. ‘Pretty.’

‘Our tiny piece of paradise.’

‘We can watch the sun come up, at least. That will be nice.’ She was quiet for a moment, before resuming, ‘When Reccanto showed up, I thought he was helping. But now I think he was just using the situation to get a few handfuls of his own.’

‘Are you surprised, Sweetie? He’s a man.’

‘With had eyes.’

‘Had eyes and bad hands.’

‘1 might have to murder him.’

‘Hold on,’ said Faint, taking the skin back. ‘He did save you, cutting off arms and hands-’

‘Eliminating the competition.’

‘Defending your honour, Sweetie.’

‘If you say so.’

Faint replaced the stopper. ‘Gods below, Sweetie, what do you think we ran into back there?’

Sweetest Sufferance pursed her plump lips, long-lashed lids settling down over her eyes. ‘Back in One Eye Cat, when I was a child, I was taken to a Dawn of Flies-you know, those ceremonies from the Temple of Hood, when all the priests paint themselves in honey-’

‘In some places,’ cut in Faint, ‘they use blood.’

‘So I’ve heard. In One Eye Cat, it was honey, so that the flies stuck. Flies and wasps, actually. Anyway, I was with my grandfather, who’d been a soldier in the Revenants-’

‘Gods, it’s been a long time since I last heard them mentioned!’ Faint stared across at Sweetest Sufferance. ‘Is this true? Your grandfather was with the Revenants?’

‘So he always told it. When I was very young, I believed every word he said. When I was older, I didn’t believe any of it. And now I’m still older, I’ve gone back to believing him. Things in his house, the carved flagstones, the broken masks he had on the wall… yes, Faint, I believe he was at that.’

‘Commanded by a Seguleh-’

‘An outlawed Seguleh, yes. Anyway, it was my grandfather who took me to watch his old company’s patron temple and all the priests and priestesses doing their flies thing.’

‘Wait. The Revenants were supposed to have all disappeared-taken by Hood himself, to serve him in the realm of the dead. So what was your grandfather do-ing living in One Eye Cat?’

‘He lost his sword arm in a battle. He’d been left for dead, and by the time any-one found him it was too late for any serious healing. So they seared the stump and retired him out. Now, you going to let me tell my tale or not?’

‘Yes, fine. Sorry.’

‘He said the priests were getting it all wrong, with that honey. The flies and wasps weren’t the important thing in the ceremony. It was the blood-honey, but that symbolized blood. The Revenants-who were as good as Hood’s own warrior-priests, in the mortal world anyway-well, they were flagellants. Blood on the skin, life bled out to die on the skin-that was the important detail. It’s why Hood cherishes dead soldiers more than any other of the countless dead that stumble through the gate. The Merchants of Blood, the army that will fight on the hidden plain called Defiance Last.’ She paused, then licked her lips. ‘That’s what the

Dawn of Flies is about. A final battle, the dead gathered, on a hidden plain called

Defiance last.’

‘So,’ said Faint, feeling chilled by Sweetest Sufferance’s story, ‘maybe that’s why Hood took the Revenants. Because that battle is coming.’

‘Give me some more of that,’ Sweetest Sufferance said, reaching for the wine-skin.

Glanno Tarp nudged Reccanto Ilk. ‘See ’em? They’re talking about us. Well, me, mostly. It’s gonna happen, Ilk, sooner or later, it’s gonna happen.’

Reccanto Ilk squinted across at the man. ‘What, they gonna kill you in your sleep?’

‘Don’t be an idiot. One a them’s gonna ask me to forevermarry her.’

‘And then she’ll kill you in your sleep. And then we can all slice up your share.’

‘You think I didn’t see how you gropered Sweetie?’

‘How could you? You was driving!’

‘There ain’.t nothing that I don’t see, Ilk. That’s what makes me such a goodif-erous driver.’

‘She’s got the nicest handholds.’

‘Watch what you’re doing with my future foreverwife.’

‘Could be Faint you end up with, which means I can do what I like with Sweetie.’

Glanno Tarp loosed a loud belch. ‘We should make up something to eat. Break-fast, so when they’re finished jawbering over there we can up and get on our way.’

‘Wherever that is.’

‘Wherever don’t matter. Never has and never will.’

Reccanto Ilk grinned. ‘Right. It ain’t the destination that counts…’

And together they added, ‘It’s the journey!’

Faint and Sweetest Sufferance looked over, both scowling. ‘Not that again!’ Faint called. ‘Just stop it, you two! Stop it or we’ll kill you in your sleep!’

Reccanto Ilk nudged Glanno Tarp.

Mappo crouched, rocking on the balls of his broad feet, waiting for Master Quell to finish his muttered incantation against pain. He sympathized, since it was clear that the mage was suffering; his face pale and drawn, forehead slick with sweat, his hands trembling.

That anyone would choose such a profession, given the terrible cost, was a dif-ficult notion to accept. Was coin worth this? He could not understand that sort of thinking.

What held real value in this world? In any world? Friendship, the gifts of love and compassion. The honour one accorded the life of another person. None of this could be bought with wealth. It seemed to him such a simple truth. Yet he knew that its very banality was fuel for sneering cynicism and mockery. Until such things were taken away, until the price of their loss came to be personal, in some terrible, devastating arrival into one’s life. Only at that moment of profound extremity did the contempt wash down from that truth, revealing it bare, undeniable.

All the truths that mattered were banal.

Yet here was another truth. He had paid for this journey. His coin bought this man’s pain. The exchange was imbalanced, and so Mappo grieved for Master Quell, and would not shy away from his own guilt. Honour meant, after all, a pre-paredness, a willingness to weigh and measure, to judge rightful balance with no hand tilting the scales.

And so, they all here were paying to serve Mappo’s need, this journey through warrens. Another burden he must accept. If he could.

The formidable warrior sitting beside him stirred then and said, ‘I think I see now why the Trygalle loses so many shareholders, Master Quell. By the abyss, there must be warrens where one can journey through in peace?’

Master Quell rubbed at his face. ‘Realms resist, Gruntle. We are like a splash of water in hot oil. It’s all I can do to not… bounce us off. Mages can push them-selves into their chosen warrens-it’s not easy, it’s a game of subtle persuasion most of the time. Or a modest assertion of will. You don’t want to blast a hole from one realm to the next, because that’s likely to go out of control. It can de-vour a mage in an instant.’ He looked up at them with bloodshot eyes. ‘We can’t do it that way.’ He waved a weak hand at the carriage behind him. ‘We arrive like an insult. We are an insult. Like a white-hot spear point, we punch through, race along our wild path, and all that we leave in our wake I need to make sure is, er, cauterized. Seared shut. Failing that, a rush of power explodes behind us, and that’s a wave no mortal can ride for long.’

Precious Thimble spoke from behind Mappo. ‘You must be High Mages, then, one and all.’

To her observation, Master Quell nodded. ‘I admit, it’s starting to trouble me, this way of travel. I think we’re scarring the whole damned universe. We’re making existence… bleed. Oh, just a seep here and there, amidst whatever throbs of pain reality might possess. In any case, that’s why there’s no peaceful path, Gruntle. Denizens in every realm are driven to annihilate us.’