Kurkas slapped her on the back. “Cheer up, lieutenant. It’s only the end of the world.”

“Fine.” Brask jerked a thumb at Anastacia. “But she stays here, otherwise come sun-up those thralls’ll know exactly where to look for us.”

Kurkas rubbed a bristly chin. Raven’s Eyes, but he looked more a vagabond with every passing day. “She’s got a point. Have you tried not being a little ray of sunshine?”

[[Have you tried not being a fool?]]

“I thought I had,” he said mildly. “The quest continues. Changes nothing. We all go, or we all stay.”

“This is a mistake,” said Brask.

Kurkas sighed. “What this is, lieutenant, is an order.”

Brask opened her mouth, thought better of it, and stalked towards the stairs.

[[She might be right,]] Anastacia said. [[Perhaps I should stay.]]

Kurkas propped his back against the outer rampart and stared down onto Branghall’s terrace. The pyre was long gone and Halvor’s blackened remains buried, but the starburst of ash remained.

“I’m already leaving too many behind. It’s all of us, or none.”

Viktor pressed his shoulder to the trapdoor’s sagging, rotten timbers. It bucked, giving him space to slide one hand off the rusting ladder and onto the cold stone beyond. Another heave, and he climbed out into the sepulchre. A crack of light from Calenne’s hooded lantern gave shape to a choir of weeping serathi, their marble features silted from a leak in the ancient roof.

“Come on,” he breathed.

Calenne ghosted up the final span of rungs. Viktor drew his sword as she set the trapdoor in position. A farmer’s blade, half-gone to rust, but it would serve. It would have to. Experience warned it was foolish to rely on his shadow.

“I wish you’d go back,” he whispered.

“Only if you come with me.”

It was, Viktor allowed, the opposite problem as with Apara. The kernclaw couldn’t be trusted near him; Calenne, he feared, couldn’t be trusted out of his sight.

“If I ask you to go, you must promise to do so.”

“Viktor . . .”

“Please, Calenne. I swear I’ll demand nothing more of you as long as we live, but I must have your promise.” He breathed deep, exhausted once again from speaking from the heart. “I nearly lost you once. I can’t bear to do so again.”

“All right.” The gloom shifted, and he had the impression of her looking down at her feet. “You won’t lose me, but all right. But afterwards, no more demands.”

“Thank you. Douse the lantern.”

The sepulchre door opened with a screech of tortured metal, but there was no sudden commotion in the churchyard, no hollow voice raised in greeting. That only left the problem of how to navigate.

“Give me the lantern,” he hissed.

“Don’t be a fool,” she replied. “I used to play hide-and-seek around these tombs. I can get us to the road.”