The garuda stalked into the centre of the room, into a sunlit patch. Isaac watched it warily. It wore a dusty loincloth and nothing more. Its skin was darker than Yagharek’s, its feathered head more mottled. It moved with incredible economy, tiny snapping movements and great stillness, its head cocked to take in the room.

It stared at Lin for a long time, until Isaac sighed and the garuda looked up at him.

“Who are you?” Isaac said. “How did you fucking find me?” What did he do? Isaac thought, but did not say. Tell me.

They stood, slim, tight-muscled garuda and fat, thickset human, at opposite ends of the room. The garuda’s feathers were shiny with sun. Isaac stared at them, suddenly tired. Some sense of inevitability, of finality, had entered with the garuda. Isaac hated it for that.

“I am Kar’uchai,” the garuda said. Its voice was harder even than Yagharek’s with Cymek intonations. It was difficult to understand. “Kar’uchai Sukhtu-h’k Vaijhin-khi-khi. Concrete Individual Kar’uchai Very Very Respected.”

Isaac waited.

“How did you find me?” he said eventually, bitterly.

“I have . . . come a long way, Grimneb . . . lin,” Kar’uchai said. “I am yahj’hur . . . hunter. I have hunted for days. Here I hunt with . . . gold and paper-money . . . My quarry leaves a trail of rumour . . . and memory.”

What did he do?

“I come from Cymek. I have hunted . . . since Cymek.”

“I can’t believe you found us,” said Isaac suddenly, nervously. He talked quickly, hating the pervasive sense of ending and ignoring it aggressively, blotting it. “If you did the damn militia can for sure and if they can . . .” He strode quickly back and forth. He knelt down by Lin, stroked her gently, drew breath to say more.

“I am come for justice,” said Kar’uchai, and Isaac could not speak. He felt suffocated.

“Shankell,” said Kar’uchai. “Meagre Sea. Myrshock.” I’ve heard about the journey, thought Isaac in anger, you don’t have to tell me. Kar’uchai continued. “I have . . . hunted across a thousand miles. Seek justice.”

Isaac spoke slowly, in rage and sadness.

“Yagharek is my friend,” he said.

Kar’uchai continued as if he had said nothing. “When we found that he was gone, after . . . judgement . . . I was chosen to come . . .”

“What do you want?” said Isaac. “What are you going to do to him? You want to take him back with you? You want to . . . what, cut off . . . more of him?”

“I have not come for Yagharek,” said Kar’uchai. “I have come for you.”

Isaac stared in miserable confusion.

“It is up to you . . . to let justice be . . .”

Kar’uchai was relentless. Isaac could say nothing.

What did he do?