‘Aaaanyway, the rest of them are much of a muchness: they’re the peasants’ collective from somewhere southern, that bunch snarling at them is the collective from down the valley. Not much in the way of Free Company representation, I have to say, bar those tedious haircuts from the Indigo Company, nor anyone I can see from the hill tribes of the Territories or the eastern marches. But we’ve a handful who claim to represent various free cities – or at least their earthier trades – a couple of banking house stooges and a few proxies for the Names who weren’t already purged and are still inclined toward fomentation …’

Chel looked at her blankly.

Lemon rolled her eyes. ‘Fighting back, wee bear.’

‘And “earthier trades”?’

Loveless grinned, sharp and pearly in the torchlight. ‘Purveyors of the necessities of quotidian alteration.’

‘Eh?’

Lemon waved an expansive hand. ‘What my impenetrable colleague is failing to express is that the rich and varied wealth of humanity within these walls is a fair representation of what remains of the resistance.’ She paused, chuckled. ‘Impenetrable, ha!’

Chel ignored it, directing his attention to Loveless. ‘How can you know all that?’

Her smile twinkled. ‘Didn’t have much to do while I was waiting for you lot, did I? I’m a good listener.’

Before Lemon could get another word in, someone banged on the central table and a hush descended in the pit. Chel saw faces in the gantries above, pressing over the old railings like the audience of a mummers’ play. Sabina was among them, and she gave him a big wave. She looked to be deep in jolly conversation with Eka the one-eyed hunter. They’d had plenty to talk about on the march to the tower, it seemed, and were not done yet. Chel found himself unnerved to see his little sister so … so … independent.

‘Sisters and brothers,’ said a gruff voice from somewhere near the main fire. A woman stood, middle-aged, soft-eyed. ‘We are joined for the conclave of the free peoples.’

Various noises of agreement echoed around the pit.

‘For those who don’t know me, I’m Gurgen of Koronur. Thank you for coming. It’s no secret that things are bleak. Since Raeden Torht launched his doomed infiltration of the citadel, we have seen systematic purges of our allies, and countless innocents, at all levels. All of us here have lost friends and family.’

Murmurs rose around the pit, loudest from the Merciful Sisters.

‘So, I say again: thank you for coming. I know you do not come lightly. And unity of purpose, of belief, is now more crucial than ever. Torht failed not because his planning was poor or his preparation lacking, but because he underestimated our enemy. We shall not do so again.’

More agreement, some growling, echoed around them.