As Baudin began on the second tent, Heboric finally roused himself, his head lifting as he sniffed the air, then squinted upward. ‘Hood’s breath!’ he growled. ‘Hasn’t there been enough?’

‘What is it?’ Felisin demanded. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘There’s been a storm,’ the ex-priest said. ‘That’s Otataral dust.’

At the tents, Baudin paused. He ran a hand across one shoulder, then frowned at his palm. ‘It’s settling,’ he said.

‘We’d best get under cover—’

Felisin snorted. ‘As if that will do any good! We’ve mined the stuff, in case you’ve forgotten. Whatever effect it’s had on us, it’s happened long ago.’

‘Back at Skullcup we could wash ourselves at day’s end,’ Heboric said, slinging an arm through the food pack’s strap and dragging it towards the tents.

She saw that he still held his other stump – the one that had touched the edifice – tight against his midriff.

‘And you think that made a difference?’ she asked. ‘If that’s true, why did every mage who worked there die or go mad? You’re not thinking clearly, Heboric—’

‘Sit there, then,’ the old man snapped, ducking under the first tent’s flap and pulling the pack in after him.

Felisin glanced at Baudin. The thug shrugged, resumed readying the second tent, without evident haste.

She sighed. She was exhausted, yet not sleepy. If she took to the tent, she would in all likelihood simply lie there, eyes open and studying the weave of the canvas above her face.

‘Best get inside,’ Baudin said.

‘I’m not sleepy.’

He stepped close, the motion fluid like a cat’s. ‘I don’t give a damn if you’re sleepy or not. Sitting out under the sun will dry you out, meaning you’ll drink more water, meaning less for us, meaning get in this damned tent, lass, before I lay a hand to your backside.’

‘If Beneth was here you wouldn’t—’

‘The bastard’s dead!’ he snarled. ‘And Hood take his rotten soul to the deepest pit!’

She sneered. ‘Brave now – you wouldn’t have dared stand up against him.’

He studied her as he would a bloodfly caught in a web. ‘Maybe I did,’ he said, a sly grin showing a moment before he turned away.

Suddenly cold, Felisin watched the thug stride over to the other tent, crouch down and crawl inside. I’m not fooled, Baudin. You were a mongrel skulking in alleys, and all that’s changed is that you’ve left the alleys behind. You’d squirm in the sand at Beneth’s feet, if he were here. She waited another minute in defiance before entering her own tent.