‘If you think that it would be better to work for my cousin instead, I’m afraid that you will come to regret it.’

‘No one is working for anyone,’ Creed said sharply. ‘Gentle and me, we’re partners.’

‘If you return to the Hearth with those stolen maras, I can put in a word for you,’ Pilgrim told Gentle. ‘Explain that there was a misunderstanding. Make sure you don’t get into any trouble.’

Creed looked across at his companion and said, ‘Didn’t I tell you he had a smart mouth?’

‘I’m trying to help you fix this before it gets out of hand,’ Pilgrim said.

He had a hollow feeling in his stomach, realised that he wouldn’t be allowed to ride away unscathed because Creed knew that he would raise the alarm. At best, he’d be tied up and left in the old watchtower while Creed and Gentle made their escape. At worst … But he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about Creed’s worst, given what he had done to the fellow he’d fought.

‘How you’re going to help us,’ Creed said, ‘you’re going to give up that fine mara you’re riding, and your fancy clothes and anything else we can use or sell.’

He edged his own mara closer, warning Pilgrim to raise his hands, keep them away from his weapon.

Pilgrim realised that he meant the crossbow hung from a loop over the horn of his saddle. ‘It’s for hunting coneys,’ he said, feeling angry and foolish. It had not occurred to him to draw the crossbow and put it on Creed and Gentle. It would not have occurred to any right-thinking person.

Creed leaned across the withers of his mara and lifted the crossbow’s loop from the saddle horn. He swung it to and fro for a few moments, as if judging its usefulness, then slung it over his shoulder. ‘You can rid yourself of your cane, too,’ he said. ‘And that hammer hung behind your saddle.’

The cane was tucked slantwise in Pilgrim’s belt. He pulled it free and dropped it on the ground, dropped the brick hammer beside it, and froze when Creed raised his knife, tried not to flinch as the hooked point of its blade touched his chest, dragging upward and catching the pendant’s fine chain and lifting it.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ Creed said, ‘as long as you do as I ask. You can start by handing over this bauble.’

‘It was a gift from my dead master,’ Pilgrim said.

‘And now you can gift it to me.’

Creed’s smile showed most of his small sharp teeth. He was having fun.

‘Are you going to let him rob me, Gentle?’ Pilgrim said. ‘If you are, I won’t be able to help you when my people catch up with you.’