The Nort looked equally shocked, his mouth open, hands up in warding. Chel blinked away smoke-induced tears, feeling the air burning in his lungs. The crowd in the courtyard were panicked, fleeing, streaming for the city gate in a heaving mass, even as the last echoes of the explosion died away. In the gatehouse, the guards within were milling, unsure if they should be investigating or fleeing themselves.

‘We need to leave!’

Rennic nodded, immediately back on task. He stood, waving the others forward along the wall. Tarfel and Sab led, the Nort on their heels, his clinking sack slung over one shoulder, leaving him hunched and lopsided. Rennic went to toss the crossbow, then paused, his gaze returning to the platform at the courtyard’s centre. Chel followed it.

Hurkel stood on the platform, turning slowly, his big red face a picture of enraged confusion. Below him lay Palo, on the confessor’s elevated table. She was still, her free hand clamped around the dagger she’d plucked from his belt in the commotion, now standing proud from her chest. Blood pooled beneath the table, joining that of the countless hordes who’d preceded her, the table’s wood long since stained dark. She looked serene.

Rennic swallowed and nodded. His voice was a cracked growl.

‘Be seeing you, Palo.’

They ran for the gatehouse.

***

They didn’t stop running until they reached the outer walls, melded with the fleeing crowd from the citadel. People’s instincts varied – some ran for their homes, others for the river, some out into the countryside beyond – and it was only when they split from the free way into the back alleys that the human tide around them ebbed.

Chel jogged beside his sister, kidding himself that he was keeping her safe, his legs burning along with his lungs. He’d long since let the bloody sword drop, had kicked it away into an alley. He’d told himself that he needed to conserve what little strength he had, but beneath this rationale lurked an abiding desire to be rid of the thing that had little to do with any forthcoming need for self-defence. Sab kept easy pace at his side, ducking through the warren of adjoining buildings as they made for the Shanties gate.

‘What happened back there?’ she said, breath catching. ‘What did the Nort do? What else is in that sack?’

‘The Nort?’ Chel gasped, flicking a glance over his shoulder. The Nort was keeping up, his mysterious sack still shouldered and a look of determination on his young face, shuffling along beside Tarfel. Rennic brought up the rear, shepherding them along with a glower from beneath the hood of his pilfered cloak. ‘From his reaction, I’d say he was as surprised as us. Are you sure it was brandy in that barrel?’