Her charge met an invisible hand, driving into her chest with bone-jarring force. It pushed her back through the air, giving a final shove that sent her cartwheeling beyond the roof's edge. Her spells of invisibility and flight remained with her, even when she rebounded off a brick chimney, dazed and drifting.

Apsalar appeared on the roof's edge. Crokus crouched before her, daggers in hand and glaring all around him. 'What's wrong?' she whispered, frightened.

Slowly, Crokus relaxed and turned a rueful grin her way. 'Just nerves,' he said. 'Thought I saw something, felt a wind. Looked like ... Well, never mind.' He looked around again. 'There's nothing here. Come on, then.'

'Where's this new hiding-place of yours?' Aspalar asked, as she gained the rooftop.

He faced east and pointed to the shadowed hills rising on the other side of the wall. 'Up there,' he said. 'Right under their very noses.'

Murillio clasped on his sword-belt. The longer he waited for Rallick to arrive the more certain he was that Ocelot had killed his friend. The only question that remained was whether Coll still lived. Maybe Rallick had done enough, wounded Ocelot sufficiently to prevent the Clan Master from completing the contract. I can hope, anyway.

They'd know at the Phoenix Inn, and each minute that passed made his Spartan room seem smaller, more cramped. If Coll lived, Murillio vowed to attempt Rallick's role in the plan. He checked his rapier. It'd been years since his last duel, and Turban Orr was said to be the city's best. His chances looked poor.

He collected his cape and fastened the collar around his neck. And who was this Circle Breaker with all the devastating news? How did this Eel justify involving himself or herself in their schemes? Murillio's eyes narrowed. Was it possible? That little round runt of a man?

He pulled on his doeskin gloves, muttering under his breath.

A scrape at the door caught his attention. A heavy sigh of relief escaped him. 'Rallick, you old bastard,' he said, as he opened the door. For an instant he thought the hallway empty, then his gaze fell to the floor. The assassin lay there, his clothing soaked through with blood, looking up at him with a weak grin.

'Sorry I'm late,' he said. 'My legs keep giving out.'

Cursing, Murillio helped Rallick into the room and on to the bed. He returned to the door, checked the hallway, then shut and set the lock.

Rallick pushed himself upright against the headboard. 'On-offered a contract on Coll—'

'I know, I know,' Murillio said, as he approached. He knelt beside the bed. 'Let's see to your wound.'

'I need to take off my armour first,' Rallick said. 'Ocelot stuck me one. Then I killed him. Coil's still alive as far as I know. What day is this?'