The Old Wolf must die and Fidele must be returned to my side, where I can seal her flapping lips.

‘And,’ he managed to say, bottling his rage.

‘I escaped,’ Senios said, raising his head and meeting Lykos’ gaze. ‘They ran. Some of the giants’ guards gave chase.’

‘How many?’

‘Seven, eight.’

Not enough.

‘When did this happen?’

‘Twelve nights ago,’ Alazon said. ‘Senios reached us eight nights gone. I sent a score more into the forest, hounds and a local woodsman with them.’

‘Good, Alazon,’ Lykos said, patting the old warrior’s shoulder. He looked hard at Senios, reached a decision.

‘Kolai,’ he snapped to the warrior whom Alazon had appointed as his shieldman.

‘Aye,’ the warrior said, stepping forward.

‘I need new shieldmen. See if Senios is worthy.’

Kolai drew a short sword and knife from the impressive array of weapons strapped about his body. Senios blinked and took a step away.

Kolai moved into the arena, beckoned for Senios to follow.

Senios’ eyes darted about, fell onto Lykos, who was watching him like a horse trader at market.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Lykos said.

Senios walked hesitantly after Kolai. He drew his short sword and shrugged a buckler onto his arm.

‘Begin,’ Lykos said and Kolai exploded forwards. Iron met iron, sparks flying, feet shuffling on the dusty earth. Senios fought well – any Vin Thalun who reached adulthood knew how to fight, but Kolai steadily broke down his guard, Senios’ blocks and lunges becoming wilder as Kolai’s skill became more apparent. In a dozen heartbeats Senios was bleeding from many small wounds, blood sheeting into his left eye. He knew it was only a matter of time and decided on an all-or-nothing attack.

I admire that, at least. But he betrayed my secret.

He ended up flat on his back, Kolai’s boot on his chest, sword hovering over his throat.

‘Live or die?’ Kolai asked, not taking his eyes from Senios.

There was only ever one outcome I wanted from this. Senios betrayed me to save his skin for an extra day.

‘Die.’

Kolai’s sword stabbed down, a gurgle and a rush of blood, then he was cleaning his blades and sheathing them. Lykos nodded to him as he resumed his position a few steps behind Lykos. He knew this was as much a test for him as for Senios. Unlike Senios, he has just passed.

‘Who are they?’ Lykos asked Alazon, pointing to the men crammed into the cages at the far end of the arena.

‘Prisoners. A mixture. Mostly locals who got caught up in the rioting. A few eagle-guard. Pit-fighters who turned on us.’

Lykos remembered that, could see in his mind’s eye Maquin and Orgull smashing the locks to the cages, the pit-fighters inside rushing out. Lykos walked to the cages, paced slowly alongside them, studied those inside. Local people, farmers, trappers, traders, a handful of battered and bloodstained eagle-guard. He stopped suddenly.

‘Javed.’