‘—the fuck are you doing, boy? You think we have eternity to bolt?’

Chel reached past him, snatching the keys from Sab’s outstretched hand and rummaging in the half-light.

‘I’m getting this boy out.’

‘Please,’ came again from the grille.

‘This is not one of ours! There’s none of us left!’

‘He’s trapped here just the same. We can’t leave him – my father would have called it a sin to leave an unfortunate in peril.’

‘We’re pretty unfortunate by any measure, and our peril is not in dispute!’

Chel fumbled with cold, rusty iron, trying one of the keys to no avail. ‘You can either stand there and shout at me while I ignore you and do the right thing anyway, or you can fucking help. We’d all get out sooner.’

Rennic’s nostrils flared, and his mouth shaped to speak, but he held his tongue. Finally, he snatched the ring from Chel’s hand, flicking it around before seizing one from the mass.

‘Here you go, merciful sister. Keyhole’s a different shape from the cells.’ He sighed. ‘Sooner or later, your fucking sanctimony will be our deaths.’

The lock sprang, and the great dark door swung open with a clang and an alchemical waft.

A shrivelled creature looked up at them, rag-clad and hunched.

‘Fuck me,’ Rennic said, head tilted. ‘A Nort.’

TWO

The stark, snow-reflected light from the tall windows along the upper hallway stung Chel’s eyes, and by now his weakened legs were aching, begging for rest. Only the little Nort fared worse; his shuffling steps were timid and unsteady, and a rough sack of belongings gathered from shelving beside the iron cell was slung over his shoulder, clinking with each halting pace. Rennic was doing better – Chel wasn’t sure if he’d never abandoned hope of rescue, or if he was too bloody-minded to change his routine, but the big man had kept himself as fit and strong as possible during their stay in the cells. Chel’s early attempts to match him had led only to sharp pain from his ruined shoulder, and he’d felt too cold and hungry to try again since.

‘Come on, Bear, keep moving!’ Sab’s arm wrapped around him.

He nodded back at the Nort. ‘Think our friend needs help more than I do.’

‘“Our friend” flinches whenever I get near him, so you’re all I’ve got.’

They struggled on in awkward synchronicity.

‘Where are we heading?’

‘The gatehouse. I’ve stashed some cloaks and things there, we should be able to slip out of the side door, mingle with the crowd at chucking-out time, get down the hill with the masses.’

‘At the end of the confession?’

She paused.

‘Yes.’

‘Where are all the guards?’

‘Prince Tarfel told them it was fine to go and watch the confession. Only that beast in the cells looked twice at us.’