Ruumi coughed, one hand over that smile. ‘Again, I apologize for my rustiness with your language. The work is already accepted in principle, by your captain. I was merely informing you as a courtesy, in case you wish to scheme while you are still bathing, once the prince agrees.’

‘My cap— What fucking captain?’

‘The lady with the unusual hair. I can see why you defer to her. I will leave you to make your plans. See you in the hall at your leisure, honoured guests.’

‘Loveless … I’ll … Nine hells!’

She vanished into the drifting fumes. The four men sat in the steaming pool in silence for a moment, brows deep, lips chewed in uneasy thought.

‘What …’ Chel said, running a hand through his hair. ‘What did we just agree to?’

One of them farted again.

***

When they returned to the hall, they found braziers burning between the long tables and fires in the great hearths at the walls. The hall teemed with activity. Tall southerners were standing in thick, boisterous knots, downcast servants weaving between them, ferrying dishes and drink; other figures, their furs and jewellery fine and well-made, were taking seats of significance around the chamber. The half-brother, a blond beast of a man, stood beside one of the modest chairs before the throne, a long table laid before him, surrounded by meat-armed and slab-chested southerners. All men, Chel noted.

The table before the other chair, the one on which Ruumi had leant before their tour, was occupied by an entirely female cast: their four companions, Ruumi herself, and her captain, the towering woman who’d brought them from the boat, finally named as Oksa. They rose as Pikul escorted the scrubbed and glowing men to the table, then withdrew to one side to maintain a presence of brooding menace. Ruumi signalled Tarfel to sit at the head of the table, a place of presumed significance.

‘They make you leave your tools behind?’ Lemon said as Ruumi bade them sit, before Rennic could begin a diatribe at Loveless. Loveless herself gave an arch grin, clearly aware of the big man’s mood.

Chel nodded. Not that they had much equipment left between them.

‘See?’ Lemon said to Foss. ‘They get it. Run a tighter ship than that shambles in the tower.’

‘Our people,’ said Oksa, each word delivered with great precision, ‘need no weapon to kill.’

‘Aye, right, but it’s a time-saver, eh?’

The big woman frowned at that, and returned to her platter. Chel wasn’t sure if she’d understood a word Lemon had said.

Ruumi gestured for a hovering servant to start pouring what Chel hoped would be wine into their horns. ‘What is this? What’s the occasion?’ he said, directed primarily at Ruumi who was looking down on them from her chair on the dais, chewing at a haunch of something.

‘Feast,’ said Oksa, and no more.