‘Muggy,’ Kalten said quietly, wiping his streaming face. ‘Isn’t there anything normal about Zemoch? It shouldn’t be this sticky at this time of year.’

‘There’s definitely some unusual weather coming in,’ Kurik agreed. The distant rumble of thunder and the pale flickers of lightning illuminating the cloudbanks lying to the east confirmed their observations.

‘Maybe we could appeal to Otha for shelter from the storm,’ Tynian said. ‘What are the Zemoch views on hospitality?’

‘Undependable,’ Sephrenia replied.

‘We’ll want to be as quiet as we can once we’re in the city,’ Sparhawk cautioned.

Sephrenia lifted her head and looked off to the east, her pale face scarcely visible in the sultry darkness. ‘Let’s wait a bit,’ she suggested. ‘That storm’s moving this way. Thunder would cover a great deal of incidental clinking.’

They waited, leaning against the basalt walls of the city as the crack and tearing roar of the thunder marched inexorably towards them.

‘That should cover any noise we make,’ Sparhawk said after about ten minutes. ‘Let’s get inside before the rain comes.’

The gate itself was made of crudely squared-off logs bound with iron, and it stood slightly ajar. Sparhawk and his companions drew their weapons and slipped through one by one.

There was a strange smell to the city, an odour that seemed to have no counterpart in any place Sparhawk had ever visited. It was an odour neither fair nor foul, but one which was more than anything peculiarly alien. There were no torches to provide illumination, of course, and they were forced to rely upon the intermittent flickers of lightning staining the purple cloudbanks rolling in from the east. The streets revealed by those flashes were narrow, and their paving-stones had been worn smooth by centuries of shuffling feet. The houses were tall and narrow, and their windows were small and for the most part barred. The perpetual dust storms which scoured the city had rubbed the stones of the houses quite smooth. The same gritty dust had gathered in corners and along the doorsills of the houses to give the city, which could not have been deserted for much more than a few months, the air of a ruin abandoned for eons.

Talen slipped up behind Sparhawk and rapped on his armour.

‘Don’t do that, Talen.’

‘It got your attention, didn’t it? I’ve got an idea. Are you going to argue with me about it?’

‘I don’t think so. What was it you wanted to argue about?’

‘I have certain talents that are rather unique in this group, you know.’

‘I doubt that you’ll find very many purses to slit open, Talen. I don’t see all that many people about.’

‘Ha,’ Talen said flatly. ‘Ha. Ha. Ha. Now that you’re past that, are you ready to listen?’

‘I’m sorry. Go ahead.’