Caldason was about to deliver a third stroke, but there was no need. The rope snapped and gravity took the bell, sucking it neatly through the open trap. From that point it fell less tidily. It hit a balustrade, shattering it, and crashed into the wall, dislodging masonry and emitting a sour note. Then it dropped true.

The bell struck with a tremendous, almost melodic crash, sending clouds of dust billowing. It came down at an angle, one edge of its lip driven into the ground, its dome wedged against the entrance.

The staircase shook violently. Barely keeping his balance, Caldason hopped lightly to the belfry floor and froze. He and Serrah stood motionless, listening to the bell’s echoing death knell and waiting for the stairs to collapse. After what seemed a very long time, Serrah whispered, ‘I think they’re staying up for now.’

Caldason crept to the edge and looked down. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw limbs sticking out from underneath the bell.

Serrah edged over to join him. ‘Seems awfully quiet down there.’

‘This was just a hitch. Don’t run away with the idea that we stopped them or anything.’

‘Let’s see.’ Moving low, she led him to the belfry wall.

For the first time, she noticed that an elaborately carved gargoyle stood at each corner, looking out across the island. She and Reeth huddled beneath one, then they took a peek. Almost immediately a roar went up from below, and arrows quickly followed. One hit the gargoyle’s head, chipping an unsightly ear. Reeth and Serrah ducked back down.

‘I made it twenty or more,’ she reported.

‘Me too. Add the ones we couldn’t see and-’

‘And we have a lot of murderous bastards who want to get in here.’

‘Of course, we’re just two people. They must have better things to do. Perhaps they’ll give up.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Not really.’

He removed his helmet, then began unlacing the breastplate. ‘I hate wearing this stuff.’

‘I’m grateful for it.’ Nevertheless, she was taking hers off, too, revealing a spreading bruise from the arrow strike. At the bruise’s core, the skin was broken.

‘You’re getting a good black eye as well,’ he told her. ‘But don’t worry, I like dark-eyed women.’

‘Ha, ha.’ She dabbed at the bruise with a cloth, and winced.

‘Give it here,’ he said. He produced a hip flask and dampened the cloth.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Brandy. Good stuff, too. Darrok gave it to me.’

‘Trust him to have the best. Ouch.’

‘That should stop any infection,’ he said, pressing the cloth to her wound.

‘Which might not be our greatest worry at the moment. I mean, infections need time to take hold, don’t they? And that could be something we haven’t got a lot of.’

Neither spoke for a moment. Then she added, ‘Do you think Pallidea got through?’

‘It looked like it. About that. I meant to say…’

‘What?’

‘Did I do the right thing? I kind of took the decision for you, didn’t I? Maybe you’re the one who should have had my horse.’

‘There was hardly time for a debate, Reeth. And yes, what you did was right. You usually do. It’s one of the things I like about you.’

‘Here’s some more irony for you. For decades I wanted nothing but to die. Now I’ve found you and I want to live, just when-’

She placed her fingers on his lips, quietening him. ‘Who said the gods haven’t got a sense of humour?’

‘The joke’s on us this time.’

‘No, Reeth. As long as we’re drawing breath, and as long as we’re together, there’s hope.’

‘And the longer we stay here, the larger their numbers are going to get.’

It was nearing dawn, and the snow had all but stopped, though it was colder than ever. They heard noises from below, and dared another peep over the wall’s edge. This time there were no jeers or streams of arrows; the invaders were too busy lugging wooden props, buckets, shovels and bundles of faggots towards the tower.

‘What’s the betting those buckets are full of oil and pig fat?’ Caldason said. ‘They’re going to undermine the walls with fire.’

‘I don’t much fancy the idea of being on top of a funeral pyre.’

‘You won’t be. The tower’s going to collapse long before that.’

‘Great. What are we going to do, Reeth?’

He hesitated, looking hard into her face. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small grey pouch.

‘What’s that?’ Serrah asked. ‘A glamour? Some charm that’s going to blast us out of here or-?’

‘No.’ His expression was deadly serious. ‘It’s something else Darrok gave me.’

He spread the pouch’s neck and showed her the contents.

‘What the hell?’ she whispered, actually taking a step back. The colour was bleeding from her face.

‘Listen to me.’

‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’

‘It’s the only way we stand a chance of getting out of here.’

‘You want me to take that shit? When you know what it did to Eithne?’

‘I’m not suggesting this lightly, Serrah.’

‘Why the fuck are you suggesting it at all?’ she hissed.

‘Because I can’t think of anything else that might get us out of here alive,’ he replied calmly.

‘Oh, yes, taking a dangerous drug’s really going to help in this situation, isn’t it?’

‘Think. When you were in the CIS you faced gangs who used this stuff. Remember how greatly their stamina was increased? How aggressive they were?’

‘They were bandits. Scum.’

‘That’s not the point. Ramp can give you an edge that just might make the difference.’

‘The damn stuff took so much from me.’

‘Then let it give you something back.’

‘I notice you’re talking about me taking it. What about you?’

‘Which one of us has a form of near immortality? Which of us gets berserk rages? Who needs ramp most to get us out of here?’

‘I’m scared,’ she confessed, eyes misting.

He embraced her. ‘Of course you are. But did you think I’d ask you to do this if there was any other way?’

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘No more so than facing what’s outside without it.’

She pulled away. ‘All right, I’ll do it. But right now, and don’t say anything more, Reeth. I don’t want any reason to change my mind.’

‘Give me your hand.’ She was shaking slightly. ‘I’m with you,’ he assured her. He poured a quantity of the crystalline substance into her open hand.

She stared at it.

‘Here, wash it down with this.’ He passed her the canteen. ‘You know how it goes, don’t you? You’ll roar for a couple of hours before it wears off. After that you’ll feel pretty washed out, but otherwise you should be all right.’

‘I may never forgive you for this, Caldason.’ She lifted her hand to her mouth and lapped the crystals, then she pulled a face. A swig from the flask gave her a brief coughing fit. ‘What now?’ she said huskily.

‘We wait. It should take effect soon.’

‘How will I know?’

‘You’ll know.’