‘Wait,’ Nadej grunted, her gaze over her shoulder and one hand raised. ‘What’s that grimy little pig-dog doing over there? One of yours, runt?’ She whistled through her teeth, hard and piercing. From the gloom beyond the heavy wagon to Chel’s left, four figures emerged into the courtyard’s misty murk. They might have been unarmed, but they were evidently well-armoured, and held themselves like professional soldiers. The sigil of Gold Peak still emblazoned a couple of breastplates.

‘Captain?’ said one. ‘We were in the middle of a game of—’

‘Boys,’ Nadej called, her voice loud with cruelty, ‘fuck these apes up, but bring me the pale one. Enough of him to be recognizable. Jaul, get the little one by the door.’

Chel stopped dead. They were trapped at the courtyard’s edge, hemmed in by the wagons, Nadej and Jaul between them and Kosh at the door, the new men between them and the far gate to the night beyond. Jaul had turned, and was making for the door where Kosh crouched, oblivious of anything but her work. She was muttering to herself, Chel could hear her clearly over the crunch of footsteps on the courtyard’s loose stone. How could she be unaware of what was happening behind her?

‘Kosh!’ he bawled. ‘Is that door open yet? Getting urgent!’

Finally she looked around, her irritation melting into surprise, then alarm as she took in the scene in the courtyard.

‘Jaul,’ Nadej called, ‘hurry it up! Boys, bring me that bleached bastard.’

Jaul broke into a jog. Whisper stepped ahead of him, dodged a meaty swing from the big man and lashed a kick at his knee. He shuffled back, shielding himself, and she followed with two sharp blows to his kidney then, as he turned to take another swipe at her, drove a forearm into his throat. Gasping, Jaul collapsed backward, thudding to the courtyard floor in front of the incandescent Nadej.

Whisper looked back to Chel and Tarfel. Run.

They did, sprinting across the courtyard toward where Kosh hunched, her movements frantic. ‘Kosh, door!’ Chel yelled as they closed.

‘It’s not … I can’t make it …’ she gasped back, voice cracked with desperation and no small embarrassment.

‘Fuck.’ Chel pulled up short of the steps from the courtyard.

The prince skidded to a halt beside him. ‘Vedren, why have we stopped? Why have we stopped?’

Chel swallowed. ‘There’s no point leading them right to her if we can’t get through.’ Sweat was dripping from his forehead, despite the bite of the cooling night, and he had to blink it away. The breath in his lungs felt hot enough to scorch his throat. ‘We need to draw them away, give her time.’