She leaned forward and planted a lingering kiss on his lips, as if sealing the memory of them on hers. ‘You know I cannot.’ She picked up the knife from the floor. ‘Hold still.’ Before he knew what she was doing, she had pulled his wrists into her lap and set to work on his manacles. A few moments later the hinges popped and fell with a clunk to the floor. He looked at her, astonished.

She shrugged prettily. ‘A trick I learned in the east. Or did you think I only knew the tricks of a whore?’

There was no good answer to that question so he said nothing.

‘Take this.’ She handed him the knife. ‘You haven’t much time. Dawn is close.’ She stooped and swept up her discarded girdle from the floor. ‘And this.’ He only noticed now how long the thing was, far longer than it needed to be to hold her robe in place. ‘There is a walkway high on the north-west wall of the palace. No watchmen go there at night. Use this to let yourself down.’ While she dressed herself, she explained how he could find his way there from his cell, through the warren of courtyards and colonnades to the city outside and freedom. ‘When you reach the street, the Golden Horn lies straight down the hill. The gates open at sunrise. Be ready. After that you’re on your own.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked, buckling his belt and shoving the blade inside.

‘I told you. Because Arbasdos hates you. Tonight, that is enough. Good luck, ágrios.’ She turned to go but he caught her arm.

‘Tell me your name.’

‘Lucia,’ she smiled and shook him loose, and in another eye-blink she was gone.

Erlan sprang from his cell after her, but as she disappeared down the corridor he turned aside into the grille door opposite, just as she’d told him. Inside, he flung himself into the corner, sweeping aside a heap of soiled straw. He felt a thrill of triumph as his fingers closed on the metal ring she had described. He pulled it and a trapdoor flew open and he found himself staring down into shadow. Just visible was the first rung of a ladder.