‘A guess, but an informed one. Something about this being the first one you come to down from the gate in the necropolis. Too bad you weren’t here last night, friend, it was even quieter, at least until the wench fished a drowned rat out of that keg over yonder. Too bad you and your friends missed this morning’s breakfast.’

Kalam slammed the rickety door behind him, pausing to regain control. Quick Ben’s arrangements? Not likely. Impossible, in fact—

‘What’s wrong?’ Minala was sitting at the table, a wedge of melon in one hand. Voices from the garden indicated parents bathing reluctant children.

The assassin closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them with a sigh. ‘You’ve been delivered to Aren – and now we must go our separate ways. Tell Keneb to go out until he finds a patrol or one finds him, and then make his report to the City Guard’s commander – leaving me entirely out of that report—’

‘And how does he explain us getting into the city?’

‘A fisherman brought you in. Keep it simple.’

‘And that’s it? You won’t even say goodbye to Keneb, or Selv, or the children? You won’t even let them show their gratitude for saving their lives?’

‘If you can, Minala, get yourself and your kin out of Aren – go back to Quon Tali.’

‘Don’t do it like this, Kalam.’

‘It’s the safest way.’ The assassin hesitated, then said, ‘I wish it could have been .. . different.’

The wedge of melon caught him flush on one cheek. He spent a moment wiping his face, then picked up his saddlebags and threw them over one shoulder. ‘The stallion’s yours, Minala.’

In the main room, Kalam made his way to the captain’s table. ‘All right, I’m ready.’

Something like disappointment flickered in the man’s eyes, then he sighed and tottered upright. ‘So you say. It’s a middling long walk to where Ragstopper’s moored – with luck I’ll only have to show my charter a dozen or so times. Hood knows, what else do you do with an army camped in a city, eh?’

‘That rag of a shirt you’re wearing won’t help matters, Captain. I imagine you’re looking forward to ditching the disguise.’

‘What disguise? This is my lucky shirt.’

Lostara Yil leaned back against the wall of the small room, her arms crossed as she watched Pearl pacing back and forth near the window.

‘Details,’ he muttered, ‘it’s all in the details. Don’t blink or you might miss something.’

‘I must report to the Red Blade commander,’ Lostara said. ‘Then I shall return here.’

‘Will Orto Setral give you leave, lass?’

‘I am not relinquishing this pursuit ... unless you forbid me.’

‘Gods forbid! I enjoy your company.’

‘You are being facetious.’