It was difficult to say how long their ordeal lasted. It felt like an entire aeon. But suddenly there was the overwhelming joy of fresh air and the delight of fresh water bringing tears to their eyes—they plopped out of the sewer straight into the Młynówka. From there, it wasn’t far to the Nysa, where they were able to rinse themselves in the faster-flowing current. They jumped into the water and swam across to the right bank. The surface of the water shimmered in the gold and red of the great blaze consuming the shacks and sheds of Rybaki and Wygon. The shapes of riders flickered.

“Dammit,” said Scharley in a tired voice. “I had a currant bun in my pocket… It must have fallen out. That’s breakfast down the drain…”

“Who betrayed us? Trutwein?”

“I doubt it.” Reynevan sat down in the shallow water, revelling in the sensation of it washing him clean. “The bomb I set was thanks to him… He supplied me with a little oil. He filched it from the church…”

“Oil in a church?”

“For extreme unction.”

Horses’ hooves thudded dully on the riverside sand.

“Vogelsang! Good to see you sons of bitches alive!”

“Rzehors! Ha! And Brázda of Klinštejn?”

“You’re alive, Reynevan! Greetings, Scharley! Hail, Samson!”

“Berengar Tauler? You, here?”

“In person. I went from the Tábor to the Orphans, but I still maintain that soldiering has no future… Oh, you stink to high heaven—”

“To horse.” Brázda of Klinštejn cut off the conversation. “Královec and Prokop the Small want to see you. They’re waiting.”

The Orphans’ headquarters was located in a tavern in the Neulende suburb. When Reynevan entered, led in by Rzehors and Brázda, a silence fell.

He knew the commander-in-chief of the Orphans’ field army, Hejtman Jan Královec of Hrádek, a sourpuss and evil character, but one who fully merited his reputation as an able commander and was adored by his soldiers almost as much as Žižka had been. He also knew Jíra of Řečice, a hejtman from Žižka’s old guard. Naturally, he knew the preacher, Little Prokop, who followed the hejtmans everywhere. He knew the ever-smiling and invariably cheerful Sir Jan Kolda of Žampach. He didn’t know the young nobleman in full armour with a shield twice divided into black, silver and red fields. He was informed it was Matěj Salava of Lípa, Hejtman of Polička. He couldn’t see Piotr of Lichwin, known as Piotr the Pole, anywhere, and only later found out that he had remained with the garrison in the captured stronghold of Homole.

Královec received calmly the news that the sabotage in the town had failed, that none of Kłodzko’s gates had been forced and no fires had been started.