By the time they caught up, Rennic had driven the others out of the booth and to their feet, and most of the other punters had cleared out of the open terrace. The friendly boy was nowhere to be seen. The prince was now wrapped, shivering and cursing, in Foss’s long coat. Chel charged at the big man, his arms full of Tarfel’s clothes.

‘The fuck is going on, Rennic?’

‘How fucking dare you!’ the prince spat, rubbing at his battered pate and reaching for his crumpled garments. ‘How fucking dare you!’

‘They are coming, dumbshit!’ Rennic’s hands were claws, imploring, anguished. ‘They are coming for you!’

Chel interposed himself between Rennic and the huffing prince. ‘Who is?’

‘Everyone!’

***

Rennic threw on his jacket, casting a frantic look around the now-empty terrace. ‘We need to leave immediately! We have to keep him safe, remember? He’s the reason we’re doing all this!’

Over Rennic’s shoulder, a figure strode onto the terrace. A small figure, in a long, flowing robe, unbelted, and nothing else, walking with icy confidence. Her hair rolled down her back like a waterfall. Rennic caught Chel’s look, turned and came up short.

‘Grassi—’

She said nothing, only gazed at Rennic with a look of irritation, of disappointment. She extended her hands from the sleeves of her robe. In each glittered a shunoul, a needle-like stabbing dagger, silver-bright and deadly.

‘Aye, how the f—’

‘Grassi, come on, now—’

She looked from Rennic to the others and back, her expression unchanging.

‘Come on, Grassi, this is a place of friendship, remember? You still don’t know the job details, it might be anything.’

Her gaze swung back to him. Chel stared at the little woman, shorter than any of them save perhaps the Nort, a slip of a thing and virtually nude. How could she seem so terrifyingly dangerous?

Rennic swallowed. ‘A head start, at least …’

Without breaking her gaze, Grassi reached her hands up behind her head, then began to twist and wrap her mane of hair. She stared at Rennic the whole time, until it was piled and bunched at the back of her head, held with one hand, then with great precision she slid the daggers, one after the other, into the mass, pinning it there. She folded her hands back into her sleeves.

‘You bad for business, Rennic.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Get out of here.’

Thumps and jangles came from the stairway, suggesting the imminent arrival of Bridge House security.

‘I don’t fancy explaining this mess to the guards, do you?’ Loveless had pushed herself to her feet, her brow gleaming with cold sweat. ‘Service stairway, back there.’

Grassi remained still as they hurried past, making for the stairs beyond, watching Rennic the whole time.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘next time—’

‘Won’t be next time, Rennic. Professionals from here.’

He nodded. ‘Professionals it is.’

‘Run, Rennic. Run!’

TWENTY-ONE