A rustle of leaves drew Kurkas’ attention. He stared past Revekah, back into the forest. “Not going to happen.”

“Fine,” snapped Halvor. “I’ll go alone.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Black-cloaked icularis ghosted through the trees towards them. Kurkas drew his sword.

“Calenne.”

The voice jarred her from nightmares to the suffocating un-light of Skazit Maze. If there was any longer a difference. Dizziness swirled the gloom. She hadn’t meant to sleep. A moment’s rest. Nothing more.

“Calenne.”

The voice came again. This time loud enough that Calenne knew it to be real. Not some figment of forgotten dreams. She scrambled to her feet and pressed her back against the cold stone.

“Who’s there? Where are you?”

Wings fluttered past her head, invisible in the darkness.

“I’m here.”

Calenne turned a giddying circle and found herself face to face with a tall, tatter-coated man wearing a feathered domino mask. She backed away, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

“Who are you?”

He stroked his goatee. “A friend. I saw you fall. I’d like to help.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe that.”

“Will I?” He shrugged. “Why not? But I am your friend. I’m a friend to everyone, in time.”

Calenne felt her eyelids droop. The stranger’s soft, rational manner begged for agreement. For accession. She struck her shattered wrist against the wall. The pain snapped her eyes wide open. She choked back a sob.

“There’s no need for that,” said the stranger. “I’ve come to show you a way out.”

“A way out?” It took all she had not to beg. The stranger would have been discomfiting even back at Branghall. Here? In the gloom, he was a hair short of terrifying. It wasn’t just a matter of him being out of place. He filled the chamber, and more besides. As if what Calenne perceived was but the tiniest part of his being. “I’ll find my own exit.”

He drew closer with soundless footfall. “I think not. You don’t know where you are.”

“I’m in Skazit Maze. Wolf’s-heads get in and out all the time. So will I.”

“No. Konor Belenzo sealed this catacomb precisely so that nothing would get out. He was terrified of something getting out.” His words didn’t invite belief. They demanded it. “Neither of us wants you to stumble onto her, believe me. But you can escape, if you accept my help.”

He held out his hand.

“Tell me,” he asked, his voice soft as smoke. “Do you dance? I confess it’s become something of an obsession of late. We all have our vices.”

Calenne felt her eyelids drooping. This time she did nothing to halt it. Even as a small inner voice screamed at her to back away – to run! – she raised her good hand to his.