Mok regarded her, the silence stretching.

Lady Envy offered him a sweet smile.

On their long journey north, the White Face Barghast broke up into clans, then family bands, ranging far and wide as was their wont. Hetan walked with Cafal, lagging behind their father and his closest followers and angling some distance eastward.

The sun was warm on their heads and shoulders, the air fresh with the gentle surf brushing the shore two hundred paces to their right.

It was midday when she and her brother spotted the two travellers ahead. Close kin, Hetan judged as they drew nearer. Neither one particularly tall, but robust, both black-haired, walking very slowly side by side closer to the coastline.

They looked to be Barghast, but of a tribe or clan unknown to either Hetan or Cafal. A short while later they came alongside the two strangers.

Hetan’s eyes focused on the man, studied the extraordinary scars crisscrossing his flesh. ‘We greet you, strangers!’ she called out.

Both turned, clearly surprised that they had company.

Hetan now looked upon the man’s face. That the woman beside him was his sister could be no more obvious.

Good. ‘You!’ she called to the man, ‘what is your name?’

The man’s smile made her heart catch. ‘Onos Toolan.’

Hetan strode closer, offering a wink to the dark-haired woman, then settling her eyes once more on the man called Onos Toolan. ‘I see more than you imagine,’ she said in a low voice.

The young warrior cocked his head. ‘You do?’

‘Aye, and what I see tells me you’ve not bedded a woman in a long time.’

The man’s eyes widened – oh, such lovely eyes, a lover’s eyes – ‘Indeed,’ he said, his smile broadening.

Oh yes, my lover’s eyes . . .

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Paran shoved the door open. Shouldering his heavy, gold-filled pack, he stepped into the antechamber beyond.

‘Raest! Where are you?’

The armour-clad Jaghut emerged from somewhere to halt before Paran, said nothing.

‘That’s right,’ Paran muttered, ‘I’ve decided to take up residence here.’

Raest’s voice was a cold rasp, ‘You have.’

‘Aye. Three weeks in that damned inn was enough, believe me. So, here I am, courage worked up, ready to settle into the dreaded, infamous Finnest House – and I see your skills as housekeeper leave much to be desired.’

‘These two bodies on the threshold – what will you do with them?’

Paran shrugged. ‘I haven’t decided yet. Something, I suppose. But, for now, I want to drop this gold off – so I can sleep easy for a change. They’re opening the place up tonight, you know . . .’

The giant warrior replied, ‘No, Master of the Deck, I do not.’

‘Never mind. I said I’d go. Hood knows, I doubt anybody else in this city will, except maybe Kruppe, Coll and Murillio.’

‘Go where, Master of the Deck?’

‘Ganoes, please. Or Paran. Where, you ask? Picker’s new tavern, that’s where.’

‘I know nothing of—’