Izack tugged the wrinkles out of his uniform. “I’m a simple soul. I don’t put much stock in fancy speeches. I draw my own conclusions. When I see one of our best trussed like a hog for the roast? When I find my mistress in a pool of her own blood at the heart of our chapterhouse? Those conclusions get a mite uncharitable.”

“You owe the Council your loyalty!” Horden’s protest held more than a whiff of hypocrisy. But maybe that was why he sounded so angry.

“Bugger the Council,” spat Izack. “We fight for Essamere, and Essamere fights for the Republic. I reckon it could use us right now.”

Running feet thumped on cobbles. Alleyways came alive with hunter’s green and the shine of steel. Within moments, prisoners and escort were surrounded by some fifty knights. Constables and Freemont hearthguard froze with swords half-drawn, then cast their weapons down.

Horden broke for the nearest alley, a desperate bellow spilling from his lips. A clash of swords, a shove to send a knight crashing against brick, and he was gone.

“Let him go!” shouted Izack. “Tie the rest up. We’ll take ’em back to the chapterhouse. Might be they find some bloody sense along the way.”

As the knights busied themselves with Horden’s troops, Izack pushed through the throng and freed first Malachi’s shackles, then Josiri’s.

Malachi rubbed his wrists. “Thank you, captain.”

Izack grinned wolfishly. “Not me.”

He shared a glance with Josiri, who shrugged. “Then who?”

“You’ll see.”

Josiri wasn’t at all surprised to find a battered and bloodied Viktor waiting at the Essamere chapterhouse. The presence of the Reveques, he took less easily in his stride – especially upon learning of Braxov’s death – but the shared joy of father and family was a welcome sight.

Leaving Malachi to a heartfelt reunion in the officers’ quarters, Josiri hung back in the muster yard and joined Viktor in the cool, deep shadows beside the chapterhouse well. He was once again in armour with a claymore strapped across his back, though this time the surcoat was hunter’s green, not black.

“Come north, you said. I can protect you there, you said.”

Viktor shook his head. “Of late, my promises have not been all they should.”

Haunted eyes told a deeper tale. Josiri decided the details could wait. “What happens now?”

“Now?” Viktor arched an eyebrow. “Now, we put a stop to this nonsense.”

“Just you and me?”

“And as many as will follow. We cast Kai Saran from the Southshires. Do you suppose Ebigail Kiradin more dangerous?”

“Yes.”

“You should. Essamere stands with us. Alone, so far.”

Icy fingers danced along Josiri’s spine. “A few dozen knights? It’s not enough.”