“This isn’t what you told me before we traveled north,” I said accusingly. “This was supposed to be a fact-finding mission, not a full-scale military offensive.”

“It would be nothing more than a raid. Later I will explain my objectives,” she replied.

“I still think it would be far easier and more certain for you to fight Kauspetnd. You’re a skilled shape-shifter.”

Grimalkin shook her head. “I do not truly shift my shape, as a lamia witch does. I merely use dark magic to create an illusion of being somebody else.”

“But that illusion would stand up to scrutiny, wouldn’t it . . . ?” Before she could answer, I continued, “I could slip away, and you could assume my shape and fight the assassin.”

“No, we both need to be here. Once you’ve dispatched the assassin, that motley assortment of warlords will challenge you. At the moment they regard the Shaiksa with awe, but once he’s dead, they’ll quickly convince themselves that you’ve been lucky. But you won’t need to fight them too, because I will then be your champion. Their rules permit that, and they will be forced to fight me. I will kill as many as is necessary until they accept you as their leader.”

“Rabbit!” Jenny called out, and began to hand it out.

I took my portion gratefully, wanting for the moment to put Grimalkin’s dangerous plan out of my mind.

Out of sight of Grimalkin, Jenny rolled her eyes at me. She evidently did not like what had been outlined by the witch assassin either.

Once my stomach was full, I became drowsy and could hardly keep my eyes open. We were all fast asleep in our tent within the hour.

But I had a rude awakening.

Grimalkin was shaking my shoulder violently and hissing into my ear, “Wake yourself and dress in these clothes. Make yourself as presentable as possible.” She thrust a pile of folded garments into my hands. “Take five minutes and step outside with your head high. Then look our visitors in the eye and follow my lead. If they bow to you, merely nod in return. If you do well, nobody will get hurt.”

As soon as she’d gone, I examined the clothes by the light of a candle. The upper garment, an ornate tunic, was made of satin and looked very expensive; the trousers were more suited to the outdoors, but were expertly tailored. Finally there was a thick, warm cloak with a red clasp shaped like a rose. Grimalkin must have had these made in the County and hidden them among her own possessions.

I was still half asleep; the last thing I wanted was to dress up in these strange clothes and pretend to be what I wasn’t. And I was becoming angry too.

Grimalkin had planned for me to fight Kauspetnd all along; she’d arranged everything in detail. She’d had a clear design, and I was a central part of it. I was being used.