‘It’s Bettan!’ Krane shouted. He’d reached the next corner already and was going so fast he actually jumped up and took two quick steps along the wall on the far side, bounding off to continue his pursuit with a minimum of loss of momentum. He disappeared around the corner, and so did the light of his axe. DeShelle gritted her teeth and tried to speed up, even though her brain was whirling. Should she go back and check on Savomir? But his chamber had looked pitch-dark as well, and if there was a killer close by then she’d be better off sticking close to Krane – if she could.

She skidded around the corner, giving brief thanks for the thick carpet that actually afforded her some traction, rather than the polished wood or stone that was favoured in some areas of the palace, and stumbled to a halt just before she collided with Krane’s broad back. He was only a few paces past the corridor junction, and standing over a sprawled body.

‘You got her?’ DeShelle asked breathlessly, covering the body with her laspistol just in case.

‘Not I,’ Krane said, his voice heavily weighted with unease. He leaned low over the body, bringing The Wolf down in close proximity to it to maximise the illumination the weapon could provide. His head and upper body was directly over it, lighting him up in cold blue-white and casting a deep shadow onto the ceiling. He reached out with the muzzle of his bolt pistol and prodded Bettan’s head, which lolled limply. ‘Broken neck. But how–?’

DeShelle recognised the sudden surge of nausea that rose up within her, a split-second warning of danger. ‘Look out!’ she screamed, not knowing what she was warning of, nor from where it was coming.

It dropped from the black morass of shadows that hid the ceiling and plunged a glowing powerblade of its own into Krane’s back.

The head of security threw himself to one side, but the knife still sheared through his carapace armour and bit deep, just to the left of his spine. Krane roared and spun, throwing his assailant off him. The other man’s power knife winked out, and he was lost in the shifting shadows as Krane swung The Wolf through where the attacker had been a moment before. DeShelle stumbled backwards in alarm as the axe cut through the air within a hand’s span of her face, then raised her laspistol as the power knife snapped into life again.

‘Behind you!’

She couldn’t get a clear shot. Krane staggered sideways as the powerblade plunged into his ribs, then was yanked out to release a gout of blood, terrifying in its ferociousness. Whatever stimulants had supercharged Krane’s metabolism weren’t enough for him to lay a weapon on his adversary, and would merely ensure he bled out far quicker than he otherwise might.