Footsteps sounded behind him, echoing down the corridor, the iron crack of eagle-guard boots on stone.

‘Perhaps naming does call,’ Ektor smiled.

Maquin peered down the corridor, saw a lone warrior in the black cuirass of an eagle-guard striding towards them. He passed under torchlight and Maquin saw who it was.

Veradis.

Nathair’s first-sword, Maquin thought, bowing his head. All hope left him.

‘Good timing, brother,’ Ektor called out, ‘though to be honest I could have done with your help a little earlier.’

Veradis paused when he saw Peritus’ body, glanced between the fallen warrior and the sword in Ektor’s hand, then stepped over Peritus and punched Ektor in the face.

Ektor staggered back, dropping sword and keys. Veradis followed and punched him again, flush on the chin. Ektor’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed, unconscious.

Veradis hurried to Peritus, crouched beside him, feeling for a pulse. He stood, shaking his head.

‘What has happened here?’ Veradis said. His voice was changed, the misery Maquin had heard in it the last time they spoke magnified a thousandfold.

What has happened to him?

‘Ektor is an agent of Calidus, was thwarting Alben’s attempt to rescue us,’ Fidele said.

Veradis looked at them all. His eyes were red-rimmed, face pale as bone.

‘Veradis, what has happened to you?’ Maquin asked him.

‘Fidele, you spoke the truth. Calidus is Kadoshim.’ He hung his head, grief and shame dripping from his voice. ‘And Nathair is . . .’ He trailed off.

‘The Black Sun,’ Alben breathed from the ground.

Veradis sucked in a deep breath, looked down at Alben, at the keys on the ground. He bent and picked them up, put an arm under Alben and lifted him to his feet.

‘I have been a fool, but no longer. You must leave here, now, under cover of dark,’ Veradis said as he ripped a strip of material from Ektor’s shirt, bound Alben’s wound as well as he could and then set about unlocking their cells.

Maquin put his arms around Fidele and pulled her close, felt her sink into him and hug him fiercely.

Krelis pushed past him and retrieved his sword from where Alben had placed it. With no warning he swung it high and chopped down into Ektor, severing his head with one blow.

‘No,’ Veradis yelled. ‘He was still our brother.’

‘He killed our da,’ Krelis said, nostrils flaring. ‘He pushed him onto your sword. He confessed it.’

Veradis stared at Krelis, those words sinking in, then just nodded.

‘Good, then,’ he said.

‘What do we do now?’ Fidele asked.

‘The warbands are making ready to leave,’ Veradis said. ‘Eagle-guard, Jehar, Vin Thalun. Many thousands of them. Dawn is still a long way off; it is chaos, your best chance is to escape in the confusion.’

‘My men,’ Krelis said. ‘There are eight hundred men of Ripa up there. I would not abandon them.’