The wind was a distant moan, the ochre dust of the calm slowly settling around them. Heboric, still gifted with an awareness that dispensed with the need for sight, sat down on a weathered boulder. A faint frown wrinkled his broad forehead, and his tattoos were dull beneath a veil of dust.

Kulp strode to Felisin, the bowl in one hand. ‘It’s a healing salve,’ he affirmed. ‘And potent indeed.’

‘Why didn’t the wind tear your skin, Mage? You’ve not got Heboric’s protection—’

‘I don’t know, lass. I had my warren open – perhaps that was enough.’

‘Why didn’t you extend its influence over me?’

He glanced away. ‘I thought I had,’ he muttered.

The salve was cool and seemed to absorb the pain. Beneath its colourless patina, she saw her skin grow anew. Kulp applied it where she could not reach, and half a bowl later, the last flare of agony was healed. Suddenly exhausted, Felisin sat down on the sand.

A broken-stemmed glass of wine appeared before her face. Nawahl smiled down on her. ‘This shall restore you, gentle lass. A pliant current will take the mind past suffering, into life’s most peaceful stream. Here, drink, my dear. I care for your well-being most deeply.’

She accepted the glass. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you care most deeply?’

‘A man of my wealth can offer you much, child. All that you grant of your free will is my reward. And know, I am most gentle.’

She downed a mouthful of the tart, cool wine. ‘Are you now?’

His nod was solemn, his eyes glittering between the folds of dimpled flesh. ‘This I promise.’

Hood knows I could do worse. Riches and comfort, ease and indulgences. Durhang and wine. Pillows to lie on . . .

‘I sense wisdom in you, my dear,’ Nawahl said, ‘so I shall not press. Let you, rather, yourself ascend to the proper course.’

Bedrolls had been laid out. One of the undead servants had fanned to life a camp stove, the remnants of one sleeve catching light and smouldering in the process, a detail none commented on.

Darkness swiftly closed in around them. Nawahl commanded the lighting of lanterns and their positioning on poles situated in a circle around the camp. One of the corpses stood beside Felisin and refilled her glass after every mouthful. The creature’s flesh looked gnawed. Gaping bloodless wounds lined his pallid arms. All his teeth had fallen out.

Felisin glanced up at him, willing herself against recoiling. ‘And how did you die?’ she asked sardonically.

‘Terribly.’

‘But how?’

‘I am forbidden to say more. I died terribly, a death to match one of Hood’s own nightmares. It was long, yet swift, an eternity that passed in an instant. I was surprised, yet knowing. Small pain, yet great pain, the flood of darkness, yet blinding—’

‘All right. I see your master’s point.’

‘So you shall.’