“What’s he saying?” rumbled Greylock in Northern.

“The two of us are going to pretend to have a duel.”

“Pretend?”

“I know, but they pretend all kinds o’ shit down here. We’ll put a show on. Act it out, you know. Entertainment.”

“The circle’s no laughing matter,” and the big man didn’t look like laughing either.

“Down here it is. First we pretend, then we might have some others to fight for real. Forty scales if you can make it work.”

“Right you are, then. First we pretend. Then we fight for real. Got it.” Greylock gave Shivers a long, slow look, then lumbered away.

“Next!” bellowed Cosca. A skinny man pranced through the doorway in orange tights and a bright red jacket, big bag in one hand. “Your name?”

“I am none other than”—he gave a fancy bow—“the Incredible Ronco!”

The old mercenary’s brows shot up as fast as Shivers’ heart sank. “And your specialities, both as entertainer and fighter?”

“They are one and the same, sirs!” Nodding to Cosca and Shivers. “My lady!” Then to Vitari. He turned slowly round, reaching stealthily into his bag, then spun about, one hand to his face, cheeks puffed out—

There was a rustle and a blaze of brilliant fire shot from Ronco’s lips, close enough for Shivers to feel the heat sting his cheek. He would’ve dived from his chair if he’d had the time, but instead he was left rooted—blinking, staring, gasping, as his eyes got used to the darkness of the warehouse again. A couple of patches of fire clung to the table, one just beyond the ends of Cosca’s trembling fingers. The flames sputtered, in silence, and died, leaving behind a smell that made Shivers want to puke.

The Incredible Ronco cleared his throat. “Ah. A slightly more… vigorous demonstration than I intended.”

“But damned impressive!” Cosca wafted the smoke away from his face. “Undeniably entertaining, and undeniably deadly. You are hired, sir, at the price of forty scales for the night.”

The man beamed. “Delighted to be of service!” He bowed even lower this time round. “Sirs! My lady! I take… my leave!”

“You sure about that?” asked Shivers as Ronco strutted to the door. “Bit of a worry, ain’t it? Fire in a wooden building?”

Cosca looked down his nose again. “I thought you Northmen were all wrath and bad teeth. If things turn sour, fire in a wooden building could be just the equaliser we need.”

“The what we need, now?”

“Leveller,” said Vitari.

That seemed a bad word to pick. They called death the Great Leveller, up in the hills of the North. “Fire indoors could end up levelling the lot of us, and in case you didn’t notice, that bastard weren’t too precise. Fire is dangerous.”

“Fire is pretty. He’s in.”

“But won’t he—”

“Ah.” Cosca held up a silencing hand.

“We should—”

“Ah.”

“Don’t tell me—”

“Ah, I said! Do you not have the word ‘ah’ in your country? Murcatto put me in charge of the entertainers and, with the greatest of respect, that means I say who is in. We are not taking votes. You concentrate on mounting a show to make Ario’s gentlemen cheer. I’ll handle the planning. How does that sound?”