The mage ducked. ‘Aye, well, it wasn’t the first one we crossed and all the others were sleepy enough. Anyway, the spirits reached up and snatched Quick, dragged him outa sight. We waited a while. Then they spat him back out, like this. Captain, the warrens have gone sour. Nasty sour. Quick said it was the Pannion, only not really the Pannion, but the hidden power behind it. Said we was all in trouble.’

Footsteps approached and Paran turned to see Mallet and Blend approach. Behind them walked Trotts. A few ragged, sardonic cheers rose to greet him from the other squads, followed by a loud raspberry. Trotts bared his teeth and changed direction. A figure bolted like a rabbit. The Barghast’s grin broadened.

‘Get back here, Trotts,’ Paran ordered. ‘We need to talk.’

Shrugging, the huge warrior swung round and resumed his approach.

Mallet leaned heavily on Paran’s shoulder as he knelt down. ‘Sorry, Captain,’ he gasped. ‘I ain’t feeling right.’

‘I won’t ask you to use your warren again, Healer,’ Paran said. ‘But I need Quick Ben awake. Any suggestions?’

Mallet squinted down at the wizard. ‘I didn’t say I was weakened, sir, only that I ain’t feeling right. I got help healing Trotts. Spirits, I think now. Maybe Barghast. They put me back together, somehow, someway, and Hood knows I needed putting back together. Anyway, it’s like I got someone else’s legs, someone else’s arms ...’ He reached out and laid a hand against Quick Ben’s brow, then grunted. ‘He’s on his way back. It’s protective sorcery that’s keeping him asleep.’

‘Can you speed things up?’

‘Sure.’ The healer slapped the wizard.

Quick Ben’s eyes snapped open. ‘Ow. You bastard, Mallet.’

‘Stop complaining, Quick. Captain wants to talk to you.’

The wizard’s dark eyes swivelled to take in Paran, then, looming over the captain’s shoulder, Trotts. Quick Ben grinned. ‘You all owe me.’

‘Ignore that,’ Mallet said to Paran. ‘The man’s always saying that. Gods, what an ego. If Whiskeyjack was here he’d clout you on the head, Wizard, and I’m tempted to stand in for him on that.’

‘Don’t even think it.’ Quick Ben slowly sat up. ‘What’s the situation here?’

‘Our heads are still on the chopping block,’ Paran said in a low voice. ‘We haven’t many friends here, and our enemies are getting bolder. Humbrall Taur’s command is shaky and he knows it. Trotts killing his favoured son hasn’t helped. Even so, the warchief’s on our side. More or less. He may not care one whit for Capustan, but he knows the threat the Pannion Domin represents.’

‘He doesn’t care about Capustan, huh?’ Quick Ben smiled. ‘I can change that attitude. Mallet, you got company in that body of yours?’

The healer blinked. ‘What?’

‘Feeling strange, are you?’

‘Well—’