The orange-shirt turned to her and said she would need a lot of luck to capture their image. ‘Better people than you have tried and failed. They are small and quick and they dance across the entire sky.’

‘The sky is my business,’ Fragrant said.

‘What are they? And how do they dance?’ Pilgrim said.

‘You have to see it. And when you do, you’ll know that it’s all true. All of it,’ the orange-shirt said, and for a moment something like a pup’s innocent wonder shone from his face.

Foeless Landwalker had paused at the edge of the crowd while two of his acolytes draped an orange cape with a high collar around him. His orange shirt was slashed open over his broad chest, his skull was clean-shaven and a patch covered his left eye and most of the ropey scar that bisected it. He turned to the crowd and shook back the wings of the cloak and raised his hands, and as the crowd cheered and the carnyx madly brayed he started across the salt pan, towards the balloon.

Behind him, there was a scuffle at the edge of the crowd and four orange-shirts emerged, carrying a person wearing only a breechclout. It was Gentle, arms bound at his back, legs wrapped in chains.

‘Before Foeless gives his sermon, he’ll deal with those who’ve displeased him,’ Intrepid said, suddenly standing so close his breath touched Pilgrim’s ear. ‘I’m afraid your friend Gentle is for the stake.’

‘How long will he be left out there?’ Pilgrim said.

‘The longest sentence so far has been eight days. The prisoners aren’t fed, but they’re given water regularly, and turned loose in the desert afterwards.’

‘Gentle has no pigment in his skin. Eight days in the desert sun without protection will most likely kill him,’ Pilgrim said.

‘The man betrayed you. Why are you concerned about him?’

‘I’m responsible for him being here. If he dies, I’ll be responsible for that, too. Can’t you persuade Foeless Landwalker to let him go?’

‘I told you: I no longer have that kind of influence.’

‘We have to find a way of saving him. And then, I swear, I’ll do everything I can to bring you the map and Master Able’s papers.’

Across the salt pan, Foeless had reached a group of acolytes clustered in front of the balloon. The music stopped and the noise of the crowd ebbed into expectant silence as the orange-shirts carrying Gentle laid him face-down at Foeless’s feet.

‘You are infuriatingly stubborn,’ Intrepid said to Pilgrim.

‘So I’ve been told. Will you do it or not?’

‘I have friends who might be able to help. It won’t be tonight, though. Tomorrow night at the earliest.’

‘And you’ll bring Gentle to me.’

‘You hope for a touching reunion, I suppose.’