It leapt up in relief. ‘What have you done to these men, Galen? Are they alive?’

Without answering, Galen faced the Watchmen.

‘Go back to your tower. Remember nothing of what you’ve seen. Forget me, forget these others, forget the name of the Crow. Remember only that in your hearts you fear the Makers.’

They simply turned and walked away, the Castellan among them; for a long while the echo of their footsteps rang in the empty alleys.

When they were gone Galen closed down the stone, and then he and Raffi threw every hiding-spell they knew around it, binding it tight, darkening it, until even Carys realised that when she looked at the stone she could no longer quite see it, as if some blind spot hovered behind her eyes.

Finally Raffi looked around. The ruins of Tasceron were dark with smoke. Streets away, an owl hooted. ‘I almost thought all this would be changed.’

‘Not yet.’ Galen dragged his hair back, irritably. ‘But when they come, we can rebuild this. We can rebuild everything.’

The Sekoi stroked its fur. ‘You seem very sure of that, keeper.’

Galen stood a moment, as if looking deep inside himself. Then he said, ‘I am.’

They walked slowly over the broken stones to a splintered archway. The alley beyond was silent and black.

Carys turned suddenly. ‘I’ll go on from here alone.’

‘Change your mind!’ Raffi urged, abruptly.

She grinned at him. ‘Look out for me. If the Makers do come, put in a good word.’ Taking the small pack off her back, she tugged something out and pushed it into his hands. ‘You’d better have this. You can keep it to remember me.’

And she was gone, a flicker in the shadows of the alley, and they could hear her feet running after the tread of the Watchmen.

Raffi looked down; it was a small blue book full of scrawled writing. ‘Goodbye, Carys,’ he murmured, and then sent one long sense-line curling after her.

‘I can’t help thinking,’ the Sekoi said drily, ‘that she’s gone back there knowing everything she set out to know. I hope you’re sure of what you’re doing, Relicmaster.’

Raffi was silent. It was Galen who answered. ‘Faith is a strange tree. Plant the seed and somewhere, sometime, in the right weather, it will grow. We also have done what we came for.’ He turned to the creature. ‘We go back to the Pyramid. Then we need to get out of Tasceron. Can you help?’

The Sekoi’s sharp face smiled. ‘I’m sure it can be arranged.’

‘Good.’

‘And then what? Do you drag me kicking and squealing back to Alberic?’

Raffi looked up. ‘Alberic! He’s still got our blue box!’

Galen and the Sekoi gazed at each other with a strange glint in their eyes. Carelessly the Sekoi kicked a loose stone. ‘I suppose we could always steal it back.’