The signs of the great battle that must have been fought for its possession were everywhere, visible long before the walls of the town itself. The red earth was scorched and blackened by fire, and wooden boards covered ditches that were lined with spikes. The dead had been taken away, either to be burned or buried, but Ella still caught a terrible stench on the wind, the kind of smell that took an eternity to be dispelled.

Overriding the scent of corruption, the burnt odour of blackened wood and smouldering earth came through strongest. Ella looked with concern at Shani; her friend's eyes were red, but whether from emotion or the smoke, Ella wasn't certain.

"What are you thinking?" Ella asked. "Are you all right?"

Shani turned her head. "To be honest? I don't know. I want to see my people freed, not conquered. I am no traitor."

Ashnar looked at Shani curiously.

"We'll speak to the prince," Ella said.

She thought again about the time she'd seen Ilathor lead an attack against a rival tribe, Tarn Fasala. When Ilathor led his men to victory, and his enemy surrendered, he hadn't given them quarter. He'd butchered them to a man.

"I'm sure he wants them to be free also." Ella said, nodding, but inwardly she wondered. How sure was she, really?

The road descended and then levelled out. Desert warriors riding past gazed at their strange party with curiosity. Jehral moaned, and Ella prayed he would get the attention of a healer soon.

The walls of Torlac loomed ahead. As they approached, Ella saw that the once-formidable gate was in splinters, their escort barely giving the gate a glance as the desert men took them through.

The streets of Torlac were arranged in a neat grid, with the central street from the main gate built wide to allow wagons to pass in both directions. The town had escaped the battle mostly unscathed, leading Ella to believe the Hazarans' plan of attack must have relied largely on stealth. With their rediscovered lore enabling them to confuse the eyes, Ella's intuition told her the theory was probably correct.

With their swarthy skin, drab clothing and red, flat-topped hats, the Petryans were easily distinguishable from the darker Hazarans. Ella saw a Petryan carrying a broom shy away when a rider's path took the rider close to him. Ella hoped the Hazarans were being held in check and wondered what the prince's plans were. She hadn't seen a single woman among the desert warriors who guarded the gates and patrolled the streets — the Hazarans certainly didn't look like they were here to stay.

Still, the Petryan common-folk who walked the streets seemed to have recovered somewhat from the battle — either that, or they were still in shock. Ella was heartened to see some old Petryans smoking redleaf from long-stemmed pipes and veiled local women buying fruit and vegetables from one of the numerous markets. Whatever the tides of war, life went on.