She straightened, gestured.

The Warren of Tellann opened. The chamber’s musty air was swept away. A sweet smell of wet tundra, acrid mosses and softened lichen flowed in on a soft, warm breeze.

The ay bound through the portal.

Kilava closed it after the beast.

Then walked from the chamber.

A moment later, Blend stepped from the shadows. She strode to where Mok lay amidst broken wood and twisted metal, looked down on the unconscious figure. Oh, that mask. So . . . tempting—

Startled shouts from the corridor behind her, the sound of soldiers scattering, then heartfelt curses.

‘—a damned panther!’

‘Kilava,’ Lady Envy replied. ‘I have crossed paths with her before. Rude, indeed, to push us all aside in such contemptuous fashion.’

Blend turned as the troop arrived.

Lady Envy paused, veiled eyes flicking from Mok to Toc the Younger. ‘Oh,’ she said in a low voice, ‘my dear lad ... Would that you had remained in our company.’

Picker. Mallet. Spindle. Antsy. Bluepearl.

Blend closed her eyes.

‘Well, that settles it, then,’ Lady Envy said. ‘We return to the keep’s roof. Swiftly, before Kilava robs me of my vengeance against the Seer.’

‘You can return to the roof,’ Picker growled. ‘We’re leaving.’

Leaving, oh, my love . . .

Lady Envy crossed her arms. ‘I exhaust myself healing you ungracious soldiers, and this is your answer? I want company!’

Mallet and Spindle moved to retrieve Toc’s body.

Picker slumped against a wall, studied Lady Envy with red-shot eyes. ‘Our thanks for the healing,’ she muttered. ‘But we need to rejoin Onearm’s Host.’

‘And what if still more Pannion soldiers are lurking about?’

‘Then we join our slain brothers and sisters. What of it?’

‘Oh, you’re all the same!’

With that, and a flurry of white robes, Lady Envy stormed from the chamber.

Blend drew closer to Picker, quietly said, ‘There’s a hint of fresh air ... coming from the doorway beyond.’

The lieutenant nodded. ‘Lead on.’

Canted to one side, shrouded in black mist, the ruptured basalt groaning like a living thing, Moon’s Spawn drew ever closer to the keep’s parapet.

Beneath the vast, overwhelming weight of Kurald Galain, the Seer crouched in his madness, head tilted to stare up at the edifice, the Finnest cradled with desperate possessiveness in his arms. Off to one side, the Matron seemed to be trying to claw her way through the tiles beneath her. The pressure was unrelenting.

The two Seguleh had not reached the rooftop unscathed, and the K’ell Hunters were proving more than their match. Both masked warriors had been driven back over the low ringwall, leaving trails of blood. Even so, Paran had never before seen such a display of skill. The swords were a blur, seemingly everywhere at once, and the K’ell Hunters were being hacked to shreds even as they pressed on. The captain had thought to help the two strangers, but had concluded that he’d prove more a hindrance.