Voices shouted from behind the barracks. Horse hooves pounded. A score of slaves appeared, running towards where Felisin stood with a half-hundred mounted Dosii soldiers behind them. Lances took some men in the back, driving them down into the dust. Unarmed, the slaves tried to flee, but the Dosii had now completed the encirclement. Belatedly, Felisin realized that escape had been denied her as well.

I saw Beneth bleed. From that thought followed another. Now we die.

The Dosii horses trampled men and women. Tulwars swung down. In hopeless silence, the slaves were dying. Two riders closed in on Felisin. She watched, wondering which of them would reach her first. One gripped a lance, angled down to take her in the chest. The other held his wide-bladed sword high, readied for a downward chop. In their faces she saw flushed joy and was surprised at the inhumanity of the expression.

When they were both but moments away, quarrels thudded into their chests. Reeling, both men toppled from the saddles. Felisin turned to see a troop of Malazan crossbowmen advancing in formation, the front line kneeling to reload while the second line slipped a few paces ahead, took aim, then as one loosed quarrels into the milling Dosii horsemen. Animals and men screamed in pain.

A third volley broke the Dosii, scattering them back into the darkness beyond the barracks.

A handful of slaves still lived. A sergeant barked an order and a dozen soldiers moved forward, checking the bodies littering the area, then pushing the survivors back towards the troop’s position.

‘Come with me,’ a voice hissed beside Felisin.

She blinked, slow to recognize Pella’s face. ‘What?’

‘We’re quartering the slaves at the stables – but not you.’ He gently took her arm. ‘We’re badly outnumbered. Defending slaves isn’t a high priority, I’m afraid. Sawark wants this mutiny crushed. Tonight.’

She studied his face. ‘What are you saying?’

The sergeant had pulled his troop into a more defensible position at an alley mouth. The twelve detached soldiers were pushing the slaves down the side street that led to the stables. Pella guided Felisin in the same direction. Once out of sight of the sergeant, he addressed the other soldiers. “Three of you, with me.’

One replied, ‘Has Oponn stirred your brains, Pella? I don’t feel safe as it is, and you want to split the squad?’

Another growled, ‘Let’s just get rid of these damned slaves and get back, afore the sergeant marches to rejoin the captain.’

‘This is Beneth’s woman,’ Pella said.

‘I don’t think Beneth is still alive,’ Felisin said dully.

‘He was not five minutes ago, lass,’ Pella said, frowning. ‘Bloodied a bit, nothing more. He’s rallying his militia right now.’ He swung to the others. ‘We’ll need Beneth, Reborid, never mind Sawark’s bluster. Now, three of you – we’re not going far.’

With a scowl, the one named Reborid gestured to two others.