Galen was stepping carefully through the fallen seeds. He headed west, and went quickly, because there was no knowing how many miles the seedfall stretched, and to be caught in the middle of it on only a two-moon night might be disastrous. But avoiding the densest clots meant they had to circle far out of their way, placing their feet carefully among the seared grasses. Close up, Raffi saw the seeds were fist-sized balls of spikes that rolled in the breeze; sometimes a few gusted up in the air, and the travellers had to stop and watch them anxiously. It was slow, treacherous work, and they knew the corrosive acids were eating into the leather of their boots at every step.

They had walked for two hours and were weary of it when they came to the top of a rise and saw the sunset blazing the sky before them. Something else made Raffi jerk up his head like a fox.

‘Galen!’ he hissed.

It was too late. Below, looking up at them in surprise, were three men, two on horseback and one walking.

They were armed, and their horses were painted in dark reds and black. They were the Watch.

13

Even across the dark, even across the loss, Even across the emptiness, soul will speak to soul.

Poems of Anjar Kar

CARYS STOOD STILL. She decided, instantly, to do nothing and say nothing. For a start, she wanted to know how Galen dealt with this, whether the keepers really did have the mind-weapons legends spoke of. And if they escaped, she needed to stay with them.

One of the Watchmen called them down. She was surprised when Galen laughed, sourly. Raffi looked terrified.

The Watchman yelled again.

Galen raised a hand and nodded. ‘There’s a village beyond the trees,’ he muttered, glancing at the smoke. ‘If they ask, we come from there.’

Making his way down between the scattered seeds, he looked sidelong at Carys. ‘If we’re found out, tell the truth. You fell in with us two days ago. You don’t know who we are.’

She grinned at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘Oh don’t worry about me. I’m good at lying.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ he said coolly.

The seed was thin here; they were at the edge of it. The Watchpatrol waited for them. They were well-armed, Raffi noticed, wearing a patchwork of body armour. One had a helmet, badly dented. His own heart was hammering in his chest; desperately he wished he knew what Galen was up to. He’d learned to fear that cold laugh.

Close up, they saw the men had hardly outridden the storm. They were all burned, and in pain; one had his arm bound up and gripped it tight. And they must have lost a horse.

‘Good evening,’ Galen called out cheerily.

Carys glanced at him in astonishment.

The Watchsergeant, the one on foot, looked them over.