‘Let us simply hasten, Lasa Rook,’ Hanako said, collecting up his gear. ‘Into the protection of the Jaghut.’

‘I shall lead,’ she pronounced. ‘You may watch me from behind, Hanako, pining for all that you shall never possess. Draw not too near, either! I have claws and fangs at the ready!’ She set out then, and a moment later Erelan Kreed straightened and fell in behind her.

Hanako looked down at the fire. It took only a few moments to stamp out its flames, and then he set off after them.

Twenty paces in, Lasa Rook glanced back over her shoulder and winked. ‘Alas, the truth wins free! I shall crumble at your first touch, young pup!’

Hanako hesitated, and then with a half-snarl he threw down his pack. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Erelan Kreed, do go on and mayhap the dragon will find us first, if only to feed. We will catch up with you anon.’

Brows lifting, Lasa Rook walked back towards Hanako. ‘Truly? Oh, now I am come over all shy!’

He stared at her, wanting to scream.

* * *

Korya Delath found Haut gathered with a dozen or so of his compatriots, Varandas, Senad and Burrugast among them. The Jaghut had been laughing but their amusement fell away, quickly hidden like a private thing, when she strode among them.

Seeing her, Haut straightened. He muttered something low to the Jaghut woman, Senad, and then gestured. ‘Mahybe, we must talk. There are tasks awaiting you—’

‘Why should any of that matter to you, Haut?’ Korya asked, her glare shifting to encompass all the Jaghut present. ‘You’re all about to die. What do the dead care for the woes of the living?’ She pointed at her old master. ‘You once told me that there were things we were going to do. The two of us, to answer for the Azathanai’s murder of Hood’s wife. What has come of that?’

Haut’s expression twisted slightly, and it seemed to Korya that he almost ducked to unseen blows. Seated beside him, Senad laughed low and knowingly, meeting Korya’s cold regard with weary amusement.

Burrugast growled under his breath and then said, ‘So much to atone, so little time.’

Snorting, Varandas moved to Haut’s side and settled a hand on the captain’s shoulder. ‘Out of the mouth of babes, a veritable torrent of nonsense. Grief is a fist, but to hold it too long is to feel all strength drain from it. So brutally aged by loss and despair, you would shake it still, with palsied fury. Drag her aside, friend, and make quick and clean the cut.’

Korya fixed her attention on Varandas, studied his lean, scarred face. ‘You tell yourselves that I don’t understand. But I do. You’re all giving up. Clothe it in silks if you like, or, more accurately, a jester’s mocking attire. It doesn’t matter.’