‘This one’s a bit lively, if you take my meaning. We’ll be having pork one way or another tonight.’ He was more confident now, with others behind him, backing him up.

Dalip scooped up the knife, even though he could barely hold on to the haft. He clenched his fist over and over.

‘If the boy kills it,’ said Stanislav, ‘it should be his to give to whoever he wants. His risk, his reward.’

‘His reward is that he lives, Slav.’

‘And what is your reward, Pigface? The chance to be a bully?’ Stanislav spat at him, the gobbet of saliva arcing through the air and landing squarely on Pigface’s boots.

‘I should—’

‘Make me lick it off? Yes. You should. But you are powerless.’ He jerked his head at the geomancer. ‘She is the only reason we are still here.’

‘Stanislav?’ said Dalip.

He ended his confrontation with the guard with a dismissive gesture, and turned to Dalip.

‘You will be fine.’ He slapped his big hands on Dalip’s shoulders, nearly causing him to drop the knife. ‘Remember to move, to strike, to finish it quickly. It will charge you: when it is past, then it is vulnerable.’

‘I can’t do this.’

‘You can and you will.’ Stanislav grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close so that their foreheads were touching. ‘This will be over in less than a minute. Then we can continue to plan our escape.’

Dalip nodded, and watched the man’s broad back disappear through the door. Pigface was directing two other men, shoving a rickety crate towards the pit. The crate was shuddering and jerking side to side with each lunge of the dark shape within: the shrieks of the boar and the taunts and slaps of the men combined to create an unholy cacophony.

The crate was pushed through the door. One of the men took a crowbar to the planks, while his mate stood outside the door, hand poised on the latch.

Dalip took one last opportunity to wipe his hands, and resumed his grip on the knife. He bent his knees slightly, readying himself for the onslaught.

The geomancer raised her hand, glanced at the door, and it slammed shut, just as the crate began to disintegrate. A black snout jammed through the slats, forcing them apart. When it pulled back, the wood cracked and splintered.

The guard turned for the door, and if he hadn’t realised it was now barred to him before, he did in that moment. He threw himself at it, scrabbling for purchase that just wasn’t there and wailing to be let out.