She stared. ‘You expect me to accompany you? Into some unknown magical realm?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what appals me more, your assumption, or your faith that my sword can defend you.’

‘I am not as inclined,’ said Caplo, ‘to risk such a journey. But if you ask it of me, friend, I will guard your other flank.’

She turned on the assassin. ‘Then what do you seek, Caplo Dreem? You had such bold words earlier, as I recall.’

‘I cannot answer you, captain,’ Caplo replied. ‘You see bravado, but I assure you, I am lost.’

The admission sharpened her regard, but the assassin’s face remained hidden within his coarse woollen hood. Glancing across at Resh, she noted his frown. ‘Warlock, is it not time for the Shake to choose? Your god is dead. You assert your neutrality and the truth of your desire makes grey your very skin. But even if you will not kneel to Mother Dark, surely Lord Urusander has named you and your kind an enemy of the realm – should the Liosan win this war, there will be no place for the Shake.’

Caplo snorted. ‘Let Urusander face the monks in battle if he will.’

‘Then why not assemble them and ally with Lord Anomander and the Andii?’

‘And place ourselves in the shadow of the highborn?’ Caplo retorted. ‘What blessings have they ever given us? Tell me of the Houseblades who rode out from the keeps to help defend the Deniers of the forest! No, they were content enough with that slaughter—’

‘As were you and your monks!’

‘To our shame,’ Resh confessed. ‘We are bound to the commands given us by the Higher Graces. Nor does it seem likely that they will change their minds, even should Anomander come calling at Yannis.’

Finarra cursed under her breath. All fools. No greater betrayer of reason than wanton pride!

Ahead waited the city’s main gate. A single guard stood to one side of the open passageway.

Resh edged his mount slightly forward as they reached the entrance. He leaned over the saddle horn as if in anticipation of the guard’s accosting them, or at the very least enquiring as to their intent, but the young man simply waved them through.

Finarra Stone drew breath, preparing a tongue-lashing, but Caplo reached out to grip her arm just beneath the shoulder. A warning squeeze held her mute until they filed into the passage, past the guard, and then the assassin released his hold on her.

The hooded face turned her way. ‘I doubt he had occasion to challenge the dragon’s arrival, captain. To ready a spear, or reach for a belted sword.’ He lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Events can make us all small, humbled into ourselves. Besides, two of us are priests, come to a city of priests and priestesses. And, lastly, our skins are not white.’