Sa-at smiled. ‘Good. Tell me.’

‘And what will I get in return?’

‘What do you want?’

‘I was going to say death but you can’t very well kill me and then expect me to answer your questions, can you?’

Sa-at frowned. It sounded like Rochant was asking a question and yet at the same time like he wasn’t.

‘How about this,’ he continued. ‘You get me away from here and then I will answer your questions about the Corpseman.’

‘Swear.’

‘And do you swear to get me to safety and keep me safe from my enemies?’

This seemed oddly familiar to him, like making deals in the Wild. ‘If you swear to answer my questions truthfully.’

‘On my blood, I swear it.’

‘What about your bones?’

Rochant’s eyebrows raised slightly. ‘What are you?’ he said softly, then, louder: ‘I swear it, on my blood, bones and Deathless soul.’

‘I hear it and swear it on my blood and bones.’

Outside, the trees rustled, and he knew the oath had been heard.

‘Good,’ said Rochant. ‘Now you best help me up, we need to be gone before my enemies return.’

‘Is the Corpseman here?’

‘There isn’t time to get into that now.’

‘You swore!’

Rochant sighed. ‘Not here in Sorn, no, but close by. Can we go now?’

‘Yes.’

He undid the straps around Rochant’s head and waist, and was alarmed when his head flopped forward, too heavy for his weak neck to support. ‘I’m afraid I can’t move my arms or legs,’ said Rochant. ‘You’re going to have to carry me.’

‘Okay.’

Though Rochant was much taller, there was little weight to him, the man seeming to be made more of rags and bone than flesh. Sa-at slung one of his limp arms over his shoulder and dragged him towards the door.

They were met there by Tal, who was running over, stick at the ready. ‘You’re back! Thank the thrice blessed suns!’

‘Who is that?’ asked Rochant by his ear.

‘Who is that?’ asked Tal, clumping to a stop in front of them.

Before Sa-at had time to answer either of them, he heard a sharp twang from Tal’s feet, and then a bell began to ring inside the house. The noise was high and resonant, making all three of them jump.

A beat later, the nearby leaves rippled as if disturbed by the wind, and the chimes of the bell echoed in their rustling, passed from one tree to another like a wave.

‘Oh no!’ said Tal.

‘Run!’ said Rochant.

‘Sa-aat!’ called Crowflies three times, and Sa-at knew what it meant: Run. Run. Run.

CHAPTER ELEVEN