Akadra stood with his back towards her, hands still tight about the slab he’d dragged clear. Melanna eased her arrow onto the bow-string. The man who’d crushed her father’s dreams. Here. At her mercy. She could put a shot in his throat, and he’d never see it coming. Never know who’d sent him to the mists. Debts owed to Josiri did not apply to the man-of-shadow.

Melanna shook her head, disgusted. Perhaps they didn’t, but an assassin’s arrow was unworthy of her. Glory in victory, fortitude in defeat, and honour always.

She sank back again as Akadra turned, her breath staling in her throat. A dozen frantic beats she held that breath. Then the vines rustled again, and the lantern-light faded.

A glance confirmed he’d gone. But gone where? Into the tunnels, certainly, but with what destination? For that matter, why was he here at all?

The sharp snap of a broken twig halted that line of thought. Footfalls followed. Three pairs. Maybe four. All closing at a pace neither swift enough for immediate concern, nor slow enough for comfort.

Melanna risked a little light. The silver glow gave shape to four Tressians, advancing from the direction of Eskavord. Melanna hastily covered the arrowhead, but not before black eyes glittered. Just like the dead citizenry at Cragwatch.

Their approach made Melanna’s decision for her. Heart in her mouth, she slunk away.

“What do you think?” asked Kurkas.

Brask peered out over Branghall’s gatehouse. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything.”

“Fat lot of good you are.”

He gave the gate approach the full benefit of his one-eyed stare. It was no good. Within the wall, the evening sky had darkened to starlit night, but everything beyond the gatehouse lanterns remained black as pitch.

“Could be they’re hiding,” said Brask. “Maybe the light hurts them.”

“I don’t think we’re that lucky,” said Kurkas gloomily. “That were the case, we’d polish them up with a handful of firestone lanterns and a bit of cold steel.”

[[They’re gone,]] said Anastacia. [[At least, I can’t see any between us and the town.]]

“Guess she’s got more in mind than seizing a serathi after all . . .” Kurkas frowned. “Wait. You can see through that muck?”

[[Of course.]]

“You might have said something,” said Brask. “We could have used you on watch.”

[[I’m not a scarecrow, however much I’m dressed the part.]]

Sensing another argument, Kurkas stepped between them. “Right then. We’re leaving.”

Brask blinked. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

“Don’t know about you, but starvation rations of wine and horseflesh are only half appealing.” Kurkas nodded, warming to his theme. “And I don’t fancy marching down into the town, so we’ll use the hallowgate and head north. We get lucky, we’ll run right into whatever help Lord Akadra’s sending.”

“Assuming Dastarov got through,” said Brask.