‘When we reach Capustan, take the closing coin and don’t look back. I know, Buke, you were right in your suspicions – I saw what was within the carriage. I saw. They’ll do worse than kill you if you try anything. Do you understand? Worse.’

The man grinned wryly, squinted out to the east. ‘You think we’ll make it that far, do you, Gruntle? Well, surprise – we won’t live to see the next dawn.’ He fixed wild eyes on the captain. ‘You wouldn’t believe what my masters unleashed – such a nightmare menagerie of servants, guardians, spirit-slayers – and their own powers! Hood take us! Yet all of it barely managed to drive one of those beasts off, and when the other two arrived, we were the ones retreating. That menagerie is nothing but smouldering pieces scattered for leagues across the plain. Gruntle, I saw demons cut to shreds. Aye, these two look unshaken, but believe me, that’s of no account. None at all.’ He lowered his voice still further. ‘They are insane, friend. Thoroughly, ice-blooded, lizard-eyed insane. And poor Mancy’s been with them for three years now and counting – the stories he’s told me ...’ The man shuddered.

‘Mancy? Oh, Emancipor Reese. Where’s the cat, by the way?’

Buke barked a laugh. ‘Ran off – just like all our horses and we had an even dozen of them after those stupid bandits attacked us. Ran off, once I’d done prying its claws from Mancy’s back, which was where it jumped when all the warrens broke loose.’

Repairs completed and carriage righted, the journey resumed. A league or two of daylight remained. Stonny once again rode to point, Cafal and Netok taking their places ranging on the flanks. Emancipor guided the carriage, the two sorcerers having retired within.

Buke and Gruntle walked a few paces ahead of Keruli’s carriage, saying little for a long while, until the captain sighed heavily and glanced at his friend. ‘For what it’s worth, there’s people who don’t want to see you dead, Buke. They see you wasting away inside, and they care enough so that it pains them—’

‘Guilt’s a good weapon, Gruntle, or at least it has been for a long time. Doesn’t cut any more, though. If you choose to care, then you better swallow the pain. I don’t give a damn, myself.’

‘Stonny—’

‘Is worth more than messing herself up with me. I’m not interested in being saved, anyway. Tell her that.’

‘You tell her, Buke, and when she puts her fist in your face just remember that I warned you here and now. You tell her – I won’t deliver your messages of self-pity.’

‘Back off, Gruntle. I’d hurt you bad before you finished using those cutlasses on me.’