‘The city is doomed,’ he said. ‘The water system is wrecked, our links to the plains unusable. The workshops are destroyed, and with them our best hope at overcoming their greater numbers. We’ve lost what black powder we had, and our alchemist seems unable or unwilling to make more. Sister Vashenda is right, more troops will come, and bring more witchfire, more black powder with them. Without the alchemist’s kites, without her weapons, they will level what remains. Assuming we don’t run out of food or water beforehand.’

‘And what difference will getting yourself killed make to any of that?’ Rennic stopped before the prince, his finger extended, nostrils wide. ‘They will murder you and put your head on a pole, and all this will have been for nothing. Nothing.’

He swivelled, his arm sweeping over the mist-shrouded plateau. ‘These fuckers are lost and they know it. There might be more of them than us, but their engines are gone, their supplies too, and without that meat-puppet Hurkel they’re just scared boys and grudging levies, a long fucking way from home. They will break, and soon.’ He placed his hands on the parapet, his grip hard and trembling. ‘And when they do, we will fall upon them like the wolf on the fold.’

Chel stirred. ‘Massacre them in retreat?’

Rennic didn’t even look at him. ‘Don’t worry, little man, you and your sad little stick won’t be needed.’

Tarfel looked unmoved. ‘If I declare, they will spare the city. It will have a chance to rebuild, to repair the bridge to the plains, for those trapped to evacuate.’

‘Horseshit! It’s a ruse, and you’d have to be a fucking fool to fall for it.’

Tarfel turned his head slightly. ‘You address a prince and the Acting Keeper of this city, Master Rennic. Please mind your words where others can overhear.’

Rennic’s eyebrows raised in furious incredulity, but he said nothing. The guards on the rampart, stationed at a discreet distance, shifted innocently.

Tarfel ran his hands through his matted, greasy hair and sighed. ‘What a burden is command! How I wish Exalted Matil were back with us – she could take it from my hands and decide my fate.’

‘You want to be a ruler?’ Rennic snarled. ‘Rulers decide. They wouldn’t be called decisions if they made themselves.’ He sniffed, looked away. ‘Your highness.’

‘Vedren? What do you think?’

Chel looked up from his dark ruminations. ‘Hm?’

‘Can they be trusted, Vedren? Your actions, and advice, have brought me this far after all. Can I trust this offer?’ His red, hollow eyes betrayed the true question: Should I take this offer?

Chel’s throat felt very dry. He felt Rennic’s furious gaze upon him, his burning expectation. It was clear what his answer was expected to be.

He swallowed.

‘Yes.’

Rennic wheeled on him. ‘Little man, you fucking—’