The council began. Chel was immediately struck by both the similarities to and the differences from the conclave of the Rau Rel. It was organized and polite, perhaps kept civil by the weight of the history in the walls around them, or the fact that nearly everyone in the room bar Chel and his companions was very heavily armed. At least there was no chance of Spider gate-crashing this one.

During the opening formalities, Chel did his best to look around without betraying himself too obviously. As Lemon had said, there was clearly a lot of coin to be made in professional soldiery, but from the look of those gathered in the hall it was far from evenly distributed. On the dais, their host, the grey-bearded captain-general of the Company of Keys was speaking, dressed in glittering formal robes with a jewelled scabbard belted at his waist. Beyond him sat the other council members, most in armour, and most of the amour exquisite. The first of them to speak was a woman of around Rennic’s age, well-kept and mirthless, her mail dark, breastplate and bracers black and glossy. Her black hair was cut in the coastal fashion, cropped short on one side and tightly bound with small golden rings. Her visible ear bristled with more gold, a jewelled choker peeking from the rise of her breastplate at her neck. The breastplate, Chel noted, was embossed with the image of a radiant sun.

‘Saleh,’ Rennic murmured from beside him. ‘Captain of the Black Suns.’

Chel kept his voice low. ‘Who’s that one at the end? The shabby looking one?’ The woman was slouched in her chair, legs extended and boots crossed in open indifference to the pronouncements of the other council members. She was small and narrow, far younger than the others; the tribal scarring on her cheeks, split like grasping fingers, marked her as Bakani. She seemed more representative of the other half of the room, those without the gleaming armour or bejewelled weaponry. Perhaps that explained the fury in her eyes.

‘Don’t know.’ Uncertainty entered his voice. ‘But she’s wearing the sigil of Gold Peak. What the fuck happened to Lucky Pel?’

Chel was about to make a comment about luck running out when the young woman was called on and pushed herself to her feet. There was a large man standing behind her, another Bakani at first glance. He had the look of a strong, silent type, his hard eyes looking out over the hall for any hint of a challenge.

‘Nadej, I speak for the Peak,’ the young woman growled. Her eyes had an unstable, trembling quality, as if the effort of keeping them still and focused were greater than anyone should have to bear. Her fingers twitched at her belt, which, Chel noted, sported an impressive Rennic-esque array of knives. ‘Can we get the fuck on with this?’

Rennic chuckled. ‘A woman after my own heart.’