After careful questioning and a lot of bribes, I’ve found out the names of a few likely villages, and one nest of bandits. That might be the best bet, as not many villagers have horses. It’s west of here, an old Maker-ruin, a lair of thieves. The villagers say the war-lord is called Alberic, and if he’s the one on our files, then Galen Harn might well be in more trouble than he knows.

And my job might already be done for me.

5

The Wounded City – who can see to the edge of it?

Who can feel the pain of its loss?

Poems of Anjar Kar

GALEN HESITATED.

Raffi waited without breathing, hating him, desperate for him to give up the box, then not to. He was numb, dizzy with fear.

Galen lowered his aim.

With a snicker of triumph, Alberic loosed his grip on Raffi’s hair and held out one small palm. The Relicmaster dropped the box into it, heavily.

‘Thank you.’ Alberic smirked. ‘For a moment I thought you wouldn’t.’

Raffi tugged away across the room, weak with relief. For a moment he had thought the same, and that made him angry. ‘You should have used it!’ he snapped.

‘He was too close to you.’

‘But just to give it to him!’

‘Would you rather be dead?’ the keeper asked quietly.

‘He wanted me as a hostage. He wouldn’t have killed me.’

‘He wanted the box more.’ Galen glared at him. ‘We have other weapons, Raffi. Keep your mind on them.’

Simmering, Raffi watched Alberic. He had climbed back into his chair and was fingering the box avidly, exploring it by touch. When he looked up his eyes were alert. ‘So what’s wrong with it?’

‘Wrong?’

‘You wouldn’t have given it to me otherwise.’ He lifted it and pointed it straight at them. Raffi went cold.

‘Be careful,’ Galen said calmly. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘That’s what I want.’

‘And unstable. We have no way of knowing how much life is left in it, but it’s already hundreds of years old. Maybe very little.’

‘And maybe a lot.’ Alberic swung the box and aimed it at a tall bronze candlestick by the window; Godric and Taran scattered instantly. ‘Chief!’

‘Be quiet.’ Then he fired.

Light blinded them. When they could see again the candle was a bubbling hissing pool of wax and molten metal on the seared floor. There was a shocked silence, and then the tiny man began to laugh. He wheezed and giggled and cackled; jumping from his chair, he cavorted round the candles, catching Sikka’s hands and kissing them, then dancing away. His own people watched him in amusement; Raffi stared; Galen stood stiff with distaste.