‘And I’m afraid I don’t know this young man’s name, but we busted him out of the cells when we bolted. Good thing we did – he knocked up a tasty bit of alchemy on the walls, might well have been responsible for that great bang back there.’

Lemon looked from one to the other, puzzled. ‘Young man?’

Chel blinked. ‘What?’

‘Your alchemist pal is a lady, wee bear.’

‘Come again?’

As one, they turned to the Nort. He—She bristled from the attention, shrinking away behind the heavy sack. Lemon put up her hands. ‘I may not know all things beneath the moon and stars, but I’m quite sure this is a Miss.’

Chel noted the Nort’s look of irritation at this. He peered closer.

‘Can you understand us?’

The look of irritation intensified.

‘Of course. I am not a farmyard animal.’ Her voice was sharp, of lower pitch than he’d expected. Far from the stripling boy he’d imagined, she could easily have been the same age as him. Her accent was utterly foreign, the consonants oddly shifted, the vowels sing-song, but the disdain beneath could be heard from a mountaintop.

Lemon’s eyebrow had rocketed. ‘Do you think maybe you could have mentioned being able to understand us a little earlier, perhaps?’

The Nort’s baleful glare settled on Lemon.

‘You are very rude. You are a stupid, rude person.’

‘Aye, right, cheers. Quite the grateful sort you are.’

The Nort only sniffed. ‘What have you done for me?’

Rennic interrupted, the glaive now little more than a walking-staff in his hand. ‘What’s the commotion?’

Lemon jerked her head at the Nort. ‘Your wee northern alchemist is a girl, can understand every word we say and has not a shred of gratitude in her.’

Rennic nodded slowly, rocking slightly on his heels. The Nort glared back at him, defiant. Chel tried to stop himself gawking at her too openly, but there was a fire in her eyes that he didn’t remember seeing before. Had he seen it in the cells, he might have thought twice of releasing her.

‘What’s your name?’ Rennic said.

‘Akoshtiranarayan,’ came the response, followed by a string of titles in a tongue Chel had no chance of following.

Rennic remained impassive.

‘Hello, Akoshtiranarayan,’ he said, and Chel saw the Nort stiffen at the competent pronunciation of her name. ‘I’m guessing you have a shorter name you use, eh? To save time, and all.’

‘By some, I am called—’

‘What do your friends call you?’

She paused, and Rennic tilted his head.

‘You do have friends, right?’

‘Of course, I have friends, imbecile! You are very stupid people, and I have no duty to answer to any of you!’