“I once asked Viktor much the same question. He and I were determined to help your people, but we needed one more vote to break the deadlock. Viktor went into a room with his father – who was not sympathetic. When they came out, we had our vote.” Malachi spread his hands like a conjurer at the close of a trick. “I asked Viktor how he’d managed it. Do you know what he said?”

“Something gruff, I imagine.”

“You’d be right. I got what we wanted. That’s all that matters. His words.”

“And you let it go at that?”

“I did.”

“And you’d like me to do the same?”

“Ideally.”

“Letting things go isn’t really what I do.”

Malachi sighed. “No, I suppose not. I entreated the Parliament of Crows. Pointed out to them that Ebigail was fixing to bring all manner of trouble down on their heads. They concurred.”

“As easy as that?”

“No, but I got what we wanted . . .”

“. . . and that’s all that matters?”

“See? Sometimes it really is that simple.”

Simple. Hundreds dead, either in Ebigail’s purges or the skirmish at the Hayadra Grove, many of them simple folk who’d been caught up in something complicated. And as for Malachi? He looked five years older. Josiri himself felt a good ten years older. Viktor was indestructible. Mere mortals aged badly in his shadow.

“All right,” said Josiri. “So what happens now?”

At last, Malachi smiled. “I thought you’d never ask. Assuming this doesn’t all come crashing down around our ears, or Jack doesn’t come storming out of Fellhallow with a host of wood-demons at his back . . . Well, I thought we might take the chance to make things better. Ebigail wasn’t entirely wrong. My entire life, the Republic has been paralysed by squabbles at council.”

Josiri cut him off. “Malachi, I’m tired, I stink. Above all I want to journey home with the express purpose of feeding Arzro Makrov to something ferocious. I’m glad that I was in a place to help, truly I am. But my people are suffering, my sister is missing, and my love is doubly a prisoner. I’ve no time for intrigues.”

Malachi’s smile broadened to a grin. “You’ll want a part of this one, trust me.”

“I will? Why?”

The door slammed open. Hadon Akadra stormed into the chamber. “Gentlemen. I am not accustomed to being summoned at this hour, and certainly not by . . .”

“By the men who likely saved you from a gallows jig?” Malachi’s gaze dropped to the pile of papers, the ink still wet. “Or were you bound so close to Ebigail that you’d no need of fear?”

Hadon’s scowl deepened a notch. “I’d no part of her plans. Bring her before me and I’ll hoist the hag myself.”