The pit erupted. The other mercenaries leapt over their fallen comrade, drawing long knives from their belts. Spider’s axe-toting men were closing, as were the nameless brotherhood. Already the peasants’ collectives were wrestling with each other, fists and spittle flying.

Loveless circled around, keeping her elevated blade between Chel and the prince and the oncoming mercenaries. She matched them feint for feint, and Chel dragged the prince around the pit and away. He looked up at the gantry above, making out both Whisper and Eka, arrows nocked, looking down on the tumult below. His sister was up there too, along with the Nort. He waved up, shouting over at the chaos.

‘Get them out of here! We’ll be right behind you!’

Whisper nodded and ducked out of sight as Chel and Tarfel raced for the stairs. Someone had knocked over a brazier, perhaps two. Already black smoke billowed from where the coals had caught on a long table, flames flickering on the pit’s far side.

The western brotherhood caught them at the foot of the steps, a quartet of burly men with rough clothing and wild beards, their weapons improvised and brutal. They were already bloodied and ragged.

‘Give us the prince! Death to traitors!’

Something roared to Chel’s left, and a table arced through the air and smashed down into the men of the brotherhood, scattering them like straw in the wind. Foss strode into view from the smoking chaos, a vengeful old god. He grabbed the nearest brother by his smock, lifting him clean from the ground and hurling him over onto his companions. The next he grabbed by the skull, flinging him firmly, head-first, against the wall of the pit.

‘You all right, my friends?’

Chel nodded. Tarfel murmured something indistinct.

Loveless ducked out of the turmoil, one arm over her face from the growing smoke, which had already choked the upper gantries. She had a small scratch on one cheek but seemed otherwise whole.

‘Keep moving, nitwits!’

Lemon appeared from the other side of the stairs, looking sooty.

‘Problem, folks! The boss is back there, can’t get him to fucken bail!’

Loveless growled and went to duck back, but Chel found himself stepping in front. ‘Get his highness out. I’ll get Rennic.’

She frowned but made no argument. A heartbeat later, they were pounding up the stairs and out of sight.

Chel turned back to the pit. The scene had shifted now, as more of the furniture and furnishings caught in the roaring flames. The world glowed bright and angry, dozens of plumes of frantic smoke surging upwards into the suffocated structure above, lambent with the fire’s rage. Bodies littered the floor of the pit, some dead or injured, others overcome from heat, smoke or exhaustion. The pit’s pale stone glowed in reflected fury. It was a vision of hell.