“Calenne was a child when that happened. She wasn’t even at Zanya.”

“Sins of the kith. Let her filthy bloodline rot in the south. It will never hold a seat on the Council.”

“Sounds like my reason for dying’s far nobler than yours for killing me.” Kasamor chuckled, but despite his apparent mirth, a rare note of fatalism crept into his tone, betraying a decision made. For a man like Kasamor, preserving his own skin came a distant second to saving those of his friends. “You might want to think on that before you go bragging to your sister’s ghost.”

“Kasamor?” Rosa’s eyes didn’t leave her opponents’ swords. “I’m not agreeing to this.”

“Not your decision, Rosa,” he replied. “Set down your blade.”

She swore under her breath and let it fall.

“But let’s be clear.” Kasamor leaned close to Aske, his voice taking on a most un-Kasamoresque harshness. “You’re not done hearing ghosts. I’ll make whatever pact the Raven demands. My cyraeth will be back for your soul before my body’s cold. It’ll haunt you as only a restless spirit can. And you, my bitter little hag, will wish you’d never heard my name.”

Aske flinched. Her throat bobbed.

Kasamor straightened. His sword clattered to the ground.

“Are we doing this or not? It’s not polite to keep a man waiting.”

A yelp sounded at the mouth of the alley. The thud of a falling body followed, and a choked scream close behind. Malachi’s anger and shame bubbled away, replaced by giddy elation. Beside him, he felt Rosa tense as the sallow man fumbled for his sword.

Kasamor laughed and shook his head. “Decided to join us, did you?”

Even bereft of armour, Viktor Akadra cut an imposing figure in the confines of the passage. A head taller than Kasamor, nearly two taller than Malachi himself, he radiated unconcern. A hearthguard dangled like a toy from one massive fist. The fellow squalled and struggled, though Viktor seemed unaware he was even under attack. He cuffed his captive about the head and let the unconscious fellow fall atop his luckless companion. The black velvet of his cloak twitched at his heels.

“Some of us had duties.”

Aske Tarev’s face went ashen grey. Of course she knew of Viktor’s reputation. It was a rare soul that didn’t. The hero of Gathra’s Field. The man who’d slain the traitor Katya Trelan. The Council’s champion.

The last of Rosa’s erstwhile opponents spun to face the new threat.

Rosa dived for her sword. The sallow man started forward, hearth-guards at his back. Aske set her sword-point to Kasamor’s belly.

“Don’t even think about . . .”