‘Ash,’ said Surly. ‘Ex-Lieutenant of the Bridgeburners. And one very determined man.’ She raised her bandaged hand. ‘Acid.’

Tayschrenn straightened from the body and turned to the smashed balcony doors. Reaching them, he glanced out. ‘Gone, then?’

Surly nodded, but sharply, as if things hadn’t gone exactly as she wished. On the floor, just before the balcony, lay a stick amid the spattered blood. A walking stick of dark wood, ebony perhaps, with a silver handle. Kiska stared. Gods! Was that it then? Was he dead?

A second surviving Claw stepped out from the shadowed balcony. Unusually tall, he favoured one leg and cradled his right arm at his breast, wet with dripping blood. His hood was down, revealing long startling white hair, a dark face, hooked nose with a goatee and black glittering eyes. Kiska had never seen him before.

‘Organize a search for the corpses,’ Surly told Possum. He bowed and backed away to the door. Kiska watched him sidelong as he passed and saw that he now bore a slash across his shirt-front, and that blood smeared his cloak. But his hood-shadowed face did not turn to regard her. It was as if the man had his mission and all else was mere dross.

Tayschrenn stepped out onto the balcony. The railing of low stone arch-work had been broken or blasted away, leaving a large gap into open air. He peered out and down, a gloved hand at the shattered edge. In the wind his cloak billowed and fluttered, and from below came the muted beat of the surf.

He returned to Surly, his boots scraping over the littered floor. ‘You can’t be sure—’

‘Certain enough,’ she snapped. ‘Absolutely. It is over and done. Finished. I’m surprised you bothered to come.’

Glancing back at the balcony, Tayschrenn murmured, ‘I was truthfully drawn here for another reason – if you must know.’

Rage flared like dark fires in Surly’s eyes and her good hand shot out to the High Mage as if she would crush him in her fist. Kiska almost shouted a warning, but as quickly as the fires rose so were they banked. She gave a small, low laugh. ‘Play the pompous lord to your underlings, Tay, not me. That you are here belies your words.’

The magus turned to her. Kiska watched him blinking, as if he were utterly unaware of the woman’s reaction. Yet how could that be? The two of them had worked, fought, and schemed together for generations. They must know to a hair’s breadth how far they could goad each other. Clearly, Tayschrenn wanted to remind Surly of something.

His shoulders rose and fell in a slow, indifferent shrug. ‘If you insist. Still, it would seem—’

‘I don’t care how it seems to you.’ She studied her bandaged hand. ‘It is over. I am Imperial Regent no longer. I will take the Throne, and my new name to rule it by. What say you to that?’

He said nothing. Kiska imagined he had already carefully thought through all possible outcomes.