The prince heaved, sending a glazed water-jug arcing through the air with a stripe of bright blood down its side from his wounded finger. It shattered beside Jaul’s right boot, and for a moment, he looked down, distracted. Whisper pressed her advantage, batting Nadej to one side with her torch, then driving her elbow into the side of Jaul’s head. He dropped like a stone, and did not move.

‘Yes!’ Chel cried, then aimed a kick at the last mercenary, who had paused mid-climb to watch the scene beyond. The man grunted as Chel’s boot connected with him and dropped from the wagon-side, although the sharp pain that lanced up Chel’s leg suggested that, should he live to see the morning, walking comfortably was unlikely to feature in it.

‘I have it!’ came Kosh’s victorious squeal from the door. Beside her, the door clunked, then began to turn. Then, with a juddering thunk that echoed from the courtyard walls, it stopped.

‘Ah,’ said Kosh.

Her foes at bay, Whisper turned to the door. Chel saw movement behind her, a smear in the drifting mist, then Nadej was there, one arm wrapped around Whisper’s neck, her other hand rising and falling in a blur. Five, six, seven times, faster than Chel could blink. Whisper gasped, flexed and threw her clear, then dropped to her knees, one hand on the torch, the other clutching her side. A long shard of broken pottery dropped to the earth before her, one end splattered dark.

Chel hadn’t even realized he was running. ‘Whisper!’ he bellowed, crossing the courtyard on numb legs as Tarfel strained to keep pace behind him. ‘Whisper!’

Nadej was still there, clambering to her feet, her eyes searching for her improvised weapon, and Chel hit her like a runaway cart. One fist caught her jaw, the other somewhere on her upper arm, and the two crashed back to the dirt. He landed another two flailing punches before she rolled clear and scrambled away, one hand pressed to her cheek, back to where her battered mercenary crew were regrouping.

Chel dropped to his knees beside Whisper, trying to ignore the terrible pulsing of his knuckles. ‘Are you hurt? How bad is it?’

Tarfel was crouched behind them, burbling apologies about the pot. Chel tried to hush him but couldn’t think how.

Whisper looked up at him, took a sharp, pained breath, and, with a tight, tearful smile, shook her head. Her arm was clutched close around her middle but the torch’s dancing light caught the cascade of dark blood that pumped over it.

‘We’ll …’ He swallowed. ‘We’ll get help. The others will be coming through any moment. You’ll be all right. Kosh! Where’s the fucking door! Get it open, one way or the other!’

The Nort sounded on the verge of tears. ‘I can’t … It is stuck! Something is blocking it!’