The steps led up, round a damp wall. She climbed soundlessly; Galen a tall shadow at her shoulder. He was stiff and sore, but he moved carefully and, glancing back, she saw his eyes were alert. At the top of the steps was a dim corridor, pungent with smoke; from a guard-room near by the sound of voices and the rattle of dice echoed. They edged carefully by; Galen caught a glimpse of the men inside, their backs to him. Then he was running down a passage, into another, and all the time neither of them spoke.

Then Carys stopped. Finger to lips, she jerked her head and, stepping forwards, he saw round the corner a man sitting on a bench eating lumps of potato from the tip of his knife.

Beside him was a small, half-open door.

Galen glanced at Carys. She raised the bow. He gave a harsh smile and shrugged. Carys was surprised, but she turned at once and braced herself. He saw the bolt quiver; with a sound like a crack it was gone. The man sprawled on the floor.

Leaping over, Carys had the door open; she turned back and gasped, ‘Leave him!’

Galen straightened from the body. He pushed past her to the door and peered round it. The night was black; the narrow alley stinking with refuse.

‘Where?’

‘Straight on!’

He followed her up the lane, leaping piles of rubbish, the rats scuttling before them. Ducking around corners, they came to a low arch and raced under it; in the shadow she swung round and racked the bow again hastily.

‘You think they’ll be coming.’

‘When they find out.’ She glanced back, then tugged away from the wall. ‘Down here.’

Turning into a ruined courtyard, they crossed it and scrambled through a hole in the wall to a wider street. She turned left. ‘Hurry!’

They ran close to the wall, through the fog of darkness and the soft hooting of owls. Once Galen stumbled; picking himself up, he glanced back. Shadows moved in the entrance to the lane. He ran after her, his face dark.

They climbed over a roof-fall, then under a wide arch of stone.

‘Come on!’ She ran ahead but he caught up with her and grabbed her arm. ‘Wait!’

She looked back. ‘We can’t! They’re coming!’

‘Where’s Raffi?’ Galen hissed. ‘Where is he?’

‘I don’t know!’ She stared into the darkness under the arch. ‘He should be here! It was here I said…’

They could hear the Watchmen now; soft feet running.

‘In the doorway.’ Galen pulled her in beside him and peered out.

Instantly the side of his face was lit with colour; a vivid green flash that dazzled them both.

‘What was that!’ Carys gasped.

The keeper grinned, wolfishly. ‘We call it the third action of the Inner Eye. Don’t tell him but he’s quite good at it.’