She was about to start down when she heard an almighty crack below, like the sound of a flawed crucible breaking apart when it was quenched.

‘Clariel?’

Clariel didn’t answer. The voice was monstrous and rasping, as if shaped in a larger and stranger mouth than any human could possibly have.

‘Clariel. Do not be alarmed. It is Kargrin. I am wearing the Charter skin of a giant mole. Where are – ah, I sense you. How did you get up there?’

‘Kargrin?’ whispered Clariel. It was still pitch black, but she could hear scuffling, and earth falling.

‘Yes. Come down! Quickly! We must be away!’

The descent was difficult. Clariel had stiffened up, resting on the beam, and was more tired than she’d thought. She almost fell twice, the jolt of sudden fear providing just enough energy to keep her going. She was shaking by the time she put her feet on the raised bedhead and had only just begun to feel the relief of something solid under her when the bed suddenly moved. Surprised, Clariel lost her fingerholds on the wall. She teetered atop the upended bed for a second, then fell, crashed onto the table, bounced off it and rolled onto the floor.

Or what used to be the floor. It was no longer level. One of the huge stone slabs had lifted up at one end. Clariel slid down it, scrabbling for a hold, successfully resisting the urge to scream. She ended up against the wall and crouched there, feeling out all around her, her hands sliding up the slab to discover it was on an angle of more than forty degrees from the horizontal.

‘Over here! They will have heard the stone crack above, I’m sure. Clamber over to me – I cannot come closer, or my Charter skin will be frayed by the prison’s spells.’

Clariel heard the sound of the shutters being lifted up above. She hurtled forward on all fours, up and over the tilted slab and down into the muddy, bristly grip of something bestial, which held her tight and pulled her further down into a hole, and despite being almost certain that it was Kargrin in another shape, Clariel couldn’t help but struggle and cry out.

‘Keep still!’ came that strange voice. ‘Hard enough to carry you as it is. Tunnel. I just dug it.’

Clariel forced herself to be still, feeling carefully with her hands, trying to get a tactile picture of whatever was carrying her. She could feel thick hair or fur on an arm that was as broad as her waist, and there was the same hair above her, undulating as muscles worked … She grimaced as she caught on that she was clutched to the belly of some giant ratlike creature …

But it was taking her out of her prison.

‘Nearly there. Collapsing tunnel behind us. Hold your breath, shut eyes!’