Stenwold sat heavily on the floor by a low table. ‘You know what this means?’

‘They’re going to do it, whatever it is,’ Scuto agreed.

‘And I know what. Or at least I can’t think of anything else, so-’

‘Hold it there, chief,’ Scuto told him quickly. ‘Totho, you remember what we talked about, about Bolwyn.’

The artificer nodded. ‘I do.’

‘We’re not secure, chief. You know why. They knew where a whole lot of my people would be, all over the city. There’s a spy here, and there’s no way of knowing just who.’

Stenwold looked at his hands. ‘This is all sounding far too familiar.’

‘Isn’t it just,’ said Tisamon. ‘Just like Myna, back before the conquest.’

‘We can’t ever leave it behind us, can we?’ Stenwold abruptly slammed a fist into the tabletop. ‘So what do you suggest?’

‘You’ve got a plan,’ Scuto told him. ‘I know you.’

‘Calling it a plan is an overstatement,’ said Stenwold. ‘However, consider merely that I’ve got one.’

Scuto managed a harsh smile. ‘Then you don’t tell anyone, you don’t even tell me, until we’re ready. At least then they won’t know in advance where or when we’re moving.’

‘What about the Moths?’ Tynisa asked. ‘What about Che?’

‘Why?’ Stenwold looked round at her. ‘What about them?’

‘I sent my girl Marre to chase ’em up, ’cos your girl and that fellow had been such a long time. Balkus saw Marre dead with a Moth arrow in her.’

Stenwold felt as if a cold stone was sinking in his chest. When his agents were attacked, it was war. But when his flesh and blood were attacked…

‘Can you spare anyone to go…?’

Scuto looked down. ‘This is it, chief. This is all they left us.’

‘I’ll go.’ Totho stood. ‘I can’t fly or anything, but I can climb if I have to. I’ll go wherever you tell me your people go in order to meet the Moths.’

‘Totho-’ Stenwold began, but the artificer cut him off angrily.

‘No, this time you’re not stopping me. I’m going – and I’m going to save Che, because she should never have gone in the first place. And Stenwold, even if you say no, I’m still going. You’ll have to chain me to keep me from it. You know why.’

To Stenwold’s mind’s eye came, then, a moment’s vision. The Prowess Forum, the Majestic Felbling taking its stand across from old Paldron’s lot. Now Salma was going off to the war at Tark, and Che was lost, and Totho was heading into still more danger. Tisamon had said it best. Stenwold had become the thing he hated.

‘I won’t stop you,’ he said. ‘So go.’

‘Tell me one thing,’ Che said. ‘You said your people had a special way to wake the Art. Does it always work like that?’ Her smile got even broader when his cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

‘Usually… just the massage.’ Achaeos shrugged his pack on his shoulder, the bow sticking up above one ear. ‘I…’

He looked so uncertain just then that she hugged him, and he kissed her forehead in return. They were ready to travel now. They had been told that the Skryres were to give their judgment. That word was all they were waiting for.

It came more swiftly than they had hoped. An old Moth, who must have served the Skryres for decades, poled his way over to them, his staff clacking on the stone floor. His expression suggested that it was a crime to have him thus awake in daylight, and that Achaeos was a fool for adopting the patterns of outsiders.

‘The Skryres have made their decision?’ Achaeos asked him.

‘They have,’ the old man said. He took a deep breath. ‘And they have decided to make no decision.’

There was a pause before Che said, ‘They have decided what?’

The old man barely acknowledged her, spoke instead to Achaeos. ‘The emissaries of the Wasp Empire have made many promises, which may yet be fulfilled. You have brought many warnings, which also may yet be fulfilled. The omens have been cast, and the world holds its breath. The Skryres, in their wisdom, will wait, and let the lesser people below us enact their petty plots. They will reach their decision when the omens change, or when fresh knowledge comes to them.’

‘Then what are we two supposed to do?’ Achaeos demanded.

‘What you wish,’ said the old man, sublimely unconcerned. ‘However, if it is fresh information you seek, you could leave Tharn to go and find it, and take’ – a dismissive gesture – ‘your baggage with you.’

Achaeos smiled thinly. ‘Well, I shall find you the fresh knowledge, then. I will find something to prod them into action, shall I? And if not then, one evening, you will look out of the mountain and have the fresh knowledge that a Wasp armada is at the gates of Tharn, and perhaps then the Skryres will decide to act.’

The old man curled his lip and left them.

Che clutched at Achaeos’s sleeve. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘Leave here, as he said. If I can find something to convince them, then so. If not, I’ll do what I can with my own two hands.’ He turned to her. ‘We can leave now freely, you realize.’

‘I… I’m not sure. I only… It was only for a little while, last night.’

‘All we have to do is step off the mountain,’ Achaeos told her, ‘and then you open your wings. It’s as simple as that.’

She held to his hand as they took the leap, and he was a far better flier than she could ever be. She lumbered in the air, the curse of her race. Rather than glide down, she simply fell rather more slowly, with him keeping pace with her all the way, pulling her up whenever she faltered.

And then they were at the foot of the mountain, and she could only look back up, at the great slopes, and at all the intervening clouds they had passed through. She had not noticed, in that lurching descent, the chill air grow warm with the approaching land or the great spectacle of Helleron spreading itself out below.

Next time I shall fly properly, she told herself, and she hugged Achaeos fiercely, because he had given her a gift beyond counting – and love as well.

They had come down near where their fires had brought the great moth to them, at the base of the foothills of the Tornos range. Che’s infant power of flight was too weak to take her any further and it was still a walk of some way to get to Helleron. The going was rugged at first, but Che did not care. The mere thought that soon, if she wished, she would be able to rise above this difficult terrain and coast along on her own wings was enough to sustain her. Beside her, Achaeos was in a thoughtful mood, but there was also a faint smile on his face.

He is thinking of me.

And how strange, after all this time, to be thinking this. She had been in Tynisa’s shadow so long, watching every caller’s face turn to eye her beautiful foster-sister, ignoring poor, hardworking Che, who had done everything to follow in her uncle’s footsteps. Now, unbidden, this man had looked on her and found her fair.

And with that thought a hand caught her and dragged her from his side.

‘Achaeos!’ she cried, fumbling for her sword. Whoever it was had his arm around her neck, clutching at her tunic. Achaeos had a hand to his dagger, but it remained undrawn.

‘You keep away from her, you bastard!’ growled a voice in her ear, and it was a voice she recognized. Her hand fell away from her sword hilt.

‘Totho?’

‘Are you all right, Che?’

‘Of course I’m all right. What are you doing?’

‘We’re betrayed, Che,’ Totho said desperately. He had a sword in his other hand. Twisting her head she saw his eyes were fixed on Achaeos furiously. ‘We’re betrayed,’ he said again. ‘Scuto’s place is gone. Most of his people are dead. They knew just where they all were, even the messenger Scuto sent out to this bastard and his people. Who knew, Che? Who was able to set us up?’

‘Totho, he’s been with me…’ But it was not quite true. There had been time enough when he had been away from her side. I won’t believe it. Her voice shook when she said, ‘Totho, Achaeos is not a traitor. He’s been trying to help-’