'There is nothing left alive in this place,' said Bayaz. 'Night will find us soon, and I for one could do with a roof to keep the rain off my old bones tonight. Your eyes are playing tricks.'

Ferro scowled. Her eyes played no tricks, devil's eyes or no. There was something out there, in the city. She felt it.

Watching them.

Luck

Luck

« ^ »

'Up you get, Luthar.'

Jezal's eyes fluttered open. It was so bright that he could hardly make out where he was, and he grunted and blinked, shading his eyes with one hand. Someone had been shaking his shoulder. Ninefingers.

'We need to be on our way.'

Jezal sat up. Sunlight was streaming into the narrow chamber, straight into his face, specks of dust floating in the glare. 'Where is everyone?' he croaked, tongue thick and lazy with sleep.

The Northman jerked his shaggy head towards the tall window. Squinting, Jezal could just see Brother Longfoot standing there, looking out, hands clasped behind him. 'Our Navigator's taking in the view. Rest of the crew are out front, seeing to the horses, reckoning the route. Thought you might use a few minutes more under the blanket.'

'Thanks.' He could have used a few hours more yet. Jezal worked his sour mouth, licking at the aching holes in his teeth, the sore crease in his lip, checking how painful they were this morning. Every day the swelling was a little less. He was almost getting used to it.

'Here.' Jezal looked up to see Ninefingers tossing him a biscuit. He tried to catch it but his bad hand was still clumsy and it dropped in the dirt. The Northman shrugged. 'Bit of dust won't do you any harm.'

'Daresay it won't, at that.' Jezal picked it up, brushed it off with the back of his hand and took a dry bite from it, making sure to use the good side of his mouth. He threw his blanket back, rolled over and pushed himself stiffly from the ground.

Logen watched him take a few trial steps, arms spread out wide for balance, biscuit clutched in one hand. 'How's the leg?'

'It's been worse.' It had been better too. He walked with a fool of a limp, sore leg held straight. The knee and the ankle hurt every time he put his weight on it, but he could walk, and every morning it was improving. When he made it to the rough stone wall he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to cry with relief at the simple joy of being able to stand on his own feet again.

'From now on I will be grateful for every moment that I can walk.'

Ninefingers grinned. 'That feeling lasts a day or two, then you'll be moaning about the food again.'

'I will not,' said Jezal firmly.