‘They’ll open to those who count.’ He levelled his gaze on Loveless. ‘Still want to leave?’

‘Still want to stay? After the red confessors have flattened the greatest defensive structure in the known world? Think what they’ll do to this place if they choose.’

Rennic walked down the steps from the door and flopped down beside the table, plucking a pomegranate from Lemon’s hoard. ‘They must have spent all they had on destroying the fortress – as you said, it was a mountain of stone. It’ll take them days to clear the rubble from the pass. In the meantime, they’re trapped in the gully as if the fortress was still there. Calculated attacks from the slopes, pin them with archers, can whittle their numbers before they can get clear. Sow enough panic in the ranks, they’ll break, especially those who took the cloth unwillingly. In three days they’ll be little more than a rabble of fanatics in muddy cloth, clawing at boulders with their hands. They might think they’ve demonstrated their power, but all they’ve done is hem themselves in.’

‘And if you’re wrong?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You could be. It’s happened before. Then what?’

‘There’s only one bridge to the plateau. I’d like to see them try and stack kegs around the walls of this place, assuming they have any left. They’ll need fucking wings.’

‘Aye, right,’ Lemon volunteered, ‘and what about those little egg-things the wee bear mentioned, the spikey wee fuckers.’

‘They’d need hundreds, maybe thousands. And what are they going to do, throw them across the gorge?’

Loveless’s gaze hadn’t left him. ‘And what if they do?’

‘Then we face them.’

‘Face them? What, the four of us against the red tide?’

‘You want to keep running? We’ve been running for months! They’ve hunted us the length of the country. They’re not going to stop, unless we give them reason.’

‘They’re not hunting us. They’re hunting him.’

‘So you’re back to abandoning him, our princeling? Our client?’

‘Our client? Fuck me, Gar— When has he ever paid us?’

‘He can pay when he’s king.’

‘When? You’re talking fantasy!’

‘You want to give up? Hand him over, or leave him to swing in the wind here?’

‘Why not, Gar? Why in righteous fuck shouldn’t we?’

‘Because … Because then … What was it all for? What did she die for? What did we do any of it for?’

‘What?’ Loveless took half a step, paused, rubbed at the deep scar at her temple. ‘We did it for coin, Gar. We did it because we are mercenaries, a free company, contractors.’

‘Did we? You said it yourself, when did we last get paid? Isn’t this about something more, now? About doing something … right?’