‘Lord Anomander has taken command of the Draconus Houseblades. Lastly, by signal flags above the Citadel, the Hust Legion even now makes for the Valley of Tarns. It is time to assemble and ride from the city.’

‘Lord Anomander takes command? Not Silchas Ruin?’

Pelk shrugged. ‘If he has not already announced it, he will, milady. The First Son of Darkness will defy Mother Dark.’

At that Gripp Galas turned, shock written deep in the lines of his face.

Pelk continued. ‘If Lord Anomander refuses you both, it is because he wants you to live. No, he needs you to live. There will be sorcery. The slaughter awaiting us may be absolute.’

‘What of our honour?’ demanded Hish Tulla.

Pelk scowled. ‘In this new war of magic, milady, honour cannot exist. Respect dies with the distance, the very remoteness of murder. Battle becomes a chore, but one swiftly concluded, and only the ravens will dance.’ She set her hand again upon the pommel of her weapon. ‘All my skill, all that I gave my life to teaching – my very vow to see my students survive – is now meaningless. If death can strike without discrimination, then truly we are fallen. I see a future in which spirit dies, and if this day is to be my last, I will not regret it too much.’ She glanced at Gripp Galas. ‘I expect Kellaras to join me in the dust of death, so think not to chide me again, Gripp Galas.’

Neither Gripp nor Hish Tulla had anything to say to that.

Pelk nodded. ‘Now, by your leave, I will return to your uncle, and inform him of his command.’

‘See that they fight,’ Hish Tulla said, but her tone was empty, hollowed out. ‘You are his second in command. Make certain that he understands that.’

‘I will, milady, and should he betray, I will cut him down in the instant.’

‘I doubt,’ said Hish Tulla as she gestured her servants closer again – this time to begin removing her armour – ‘Venes Turayd holds any delusions about your resolve, Pelk.’ She turned her head to her husband. ‘What say you, beloved? Shall we ride to my western keep?’

Gripp frowned at her. ‘You will surrender all responsibility?’

‘He loves us too dearly, does he not? We shall depart, bearing the cuts of our freedom.’ She shrugged. ‘Our trail will be obvious enough, by the blood we drip. Pelk, keep Rancept close.’

‘Of course, milady, if such a thing is possible—’

‘I said keep him close, Pelk. There is sorcery in that man, far older than anything Hunn Raal might use.’

‘Rancept?’

‘He is Shake, Pelk. A Denier, if you must use the term. But more than that, he once dwelt among the Dog-Runners. He is the child of a different mother. Hold him to your side, Pelk, for I would see you again.’

Pelk bowed.