‘Work with Jonas,’ Chetta instructed him. ‘We need a comprehensive overhaul of our security procedures. She’s got the mindset to do what needs doing, but you’ve got the analytical skills to work out what needs doing in the first place.’ She took a step forwards, then winced as her right hip stabbed at her. ‘Emperor on the Throne…’

‘My lady?’ Tekoa asked nervously, caught halfway between reaching out to help and standing back respectfully. He cleared his throat. ‘I… Forgive me if this is too forward, but as your aide… Perhaps you could consider a device such as that used by Lord Xudine.’

‘No!’ Chetta snapped. Emperor take her, but her body was not going to defeat her now! ‘Not today! Not today, and not tomorrow. After that…’

She grimaced, and tightened her grip on the head of her cane.

‘After that, we’ll see.’

Epilogue

Epilogue

He’d been keeping a safe distance from any other humans or near-humans, eating vermin and fungus, siphoning clean water from a nearby pipe, and generally making himself as scarce as possible. He’d thrown his ring away the moment he’d fled the Smog Deeps, although he’d later regretted that, thinking that perhaps he could have risked a brief visit to somewhere more civilised in order to pawn it and get some better supplies.

But he hadn’t seen another person. Which made it all the more surprising when he came around with a start and an attempted thrashing of his limbs to realise that, rather than waking from another nightmare-filled sleep, he’d been knocked unconscious and tied up.

His vision was abruptly filled with a silhouette, thin and ragged-haired. He leaned away, whimpering in fear.

Oh no oh no oh no, not him not him not him…

‘Hello, Sulaman.’

He froze. The voice wasn’t the one he’d dreaded. Then, despite the ache in his head, despite the bonds around his wrists and ankles, he melted into relief.

‘Evelyn?!’

The figure made no confirming noise or movement, but Sulaman Eichner recognised her voice.

‘Evelyn, you made it out as well!’ He smiled: widely, frantically, falsely. ‘By the Emperor, I’m so gla–’

He stopped speaking when he felt the blade of a knife at his throat. Not a glowing power knife, not the weapon that he had used. Just a common metal knife, sharp and utilitarian. And pressing into his neck.

‘Evelyn…?’

‘Did you know?’ Evelyn Darke said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Did you know what he was, Sulaman? Did you know what he intended to do?’

‘No,’ Sulaman whispered back. ‘No, Evelyn, I swear.’

‘Did you ask him?’

Sulaman licked his lips nervously. He knew Darke was a witch. He knew she could set things on fire. He had no idea if she could tell if he was lying or not.

‘I didn’t,’ he admitted. ‘He… he said he was bringing enlightenment, he said–’