‘He has his ways, apparently.’

‘His ways can sink in the dark places of the world for all I care.’ It was the voice of the giant. That soft, slow voice, but it had anger in it now. ‘The women are mine.’

‘He only wants one.’ The other sounded like his throat was full of grit, his voice a grinding whisper.

‘Which one?’

‘The brown-haired one.’

An angry snort. ‘No. I had in mind she would give me children.’ Finree’s eyes went wide. Her breath crawled in her throat. They were talking about her. She went at the knot on Aliz’ wrists with twice the urgency, biting at her lip.

‘How many children do you need?’ came the whispering voice.

‘Civilised children. After the Union fashion.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me. Civilised children.’

‘Who eat with a fork and that? I been to Styria. I been to the Union. Civilisation ain’t all it’s made out to be, believe me.’

‘A pause. ‘Is it true they have holes there in which a man can shit, and the turds are carried away?’

‘So what? Shit is still shit. It all ends up somewhere.’

‘I want civilisation. I want civilised children.’

‘Use the yellow-haired one.’

‘She pleases my eye less. And she is a coward. She does nothing but cry. The brown-haired one killed one of my men. She has bones. Children get their courage from the mother. I will not have cowardly children.’

The whispering voice dropped lower, too quiet for Finree to hear. She tugged desperately at the knots with her nails, mouthing curses.

‘What are they saying?’ came Aliz’ whisper, croaky with terror.

‘Nothing,’ Finree hissed back. ‘Nothing.’

‘Black Dow takes a high hand with me in this,’ came the giant’s voice again.

‘He takes a high hand with me and all. There it is. He’s the one with the chain.’

‘I shit on his chain. Stranger-Come-Knocking has no masters but the sky and the earth. Black Dow does not command—’

‘He ain’t commanding nothing. He’s asking nicely. You can tell me no. Then I’ll tell him no. Then we can see.’

There was a pause. Finree pressed her tongue into her teeth, the knot starting to give, starting to give—

The door swung open and they were left blinking into the light. A man stood in the doorway. One of his eyes was strangely bright. Too bright. He stepped under the lintel, and Finree realised that his eye was made of metal, and set in the midst of an enormous, mottled scar. She had never seen a more monstrous-looking man. Aliz gave a kind of stuttering wheeze. Too scared even to scream, for once.

‘She got her hands free,’ he whispered over his shoulder.

‘I said she had bones,’ came the giant’s voice from outside. ‘Tell Black Dow there will be a price for this. A price for the woman and a price for the insult.’

‘I’ll tell him.’ The metal-eyed man came forward, pulling something from his belt. A knife, she saw the flash of metal in the gloom. Aliz saw it too, whimpered, gripped hard at Finree’s fingers and she gripped back. She was not sure what else she could do. He squatted down in front of them, forearms on his knees and his hands dangling, the knife loose in one. Finree’s eyes flickered from the gleam of the blade to the gleam of his metal eye, not sure which was more awful. ‘There’s a price for everything, ain’t there?’ he whispered to her.