He turned to his Tai, the elves he trusted with his life every day and who trusted him without question. Both Duele and Evunn were painted in the deep greens and browns of their forest camouflage. It worked equally well here in the stinking alleys and quiet, cramped back streets of Xetesk. An alien landscape to Auum but one he could use. They had prayed to Yniss, the God of the Harmony and Tual, Lord of the Forest Denizens. More than once, Auum had wondered what the gods of the elves would drink, looking down on their people.

The city was foul. It made him shudder. It closed in on him, an offence to his senses. The TaiGethen were far from home, as far as they could get from the embrace of the forest and the calls of its animals, the scents of its flora and fauna and the feel of the rain on their heads.

'This place gets under my skin,' said Auum. 'We must reassemble outside the walls and pool our information.'

'We will need all the Tais to get in and Al-Arynaar mages to shield us,' said Duele.

'There is very litde in our favour,' said Evunn.

'We are the TaiGethen,' said Auum. 'And we will prevail. We do the work of Yniss and he will not discard us.'

The Tai became utterly still at a sound from behind them. The alley in which they were hidden, fifty yards from the walls of the college, was narrow and led between squalid tenements and warehouses to the central cloth market. It was not a thoroughfare used by anyone but thieves. Two who had made the mistake of running across the Tai earlier that night lay in thick weeds twenty yards into the gloom.

Auum signalled Duele to unsling his bow. He and Evunn drew short swords and unclasped jaqrui pouches. The sound came again on the light breeze blowing along the alley. Looking back down the alley, Auum could see no one. Black tenements stared back, desolate and oppressive. The air was still and cool and he could smell nothing above the stench of the city all around them. Yet someone was approaching and doing nothing to mask his progress.

He was singing.

It was a broken tune, half-remembered and sung in a mumble that would surely have been incoherent even to a local. Auum's limited grasp of the eastern Balaian language gave him no chance of understanding it.

The drunk stumbled into sight out of a side passage about thirty yards away, steadied himself against a wall, considered his direction for a moment and began weaving towards them. The Tai held its collective breath and pressed hard into the deepest shadow. Duele squeezed Auum's shoulder but the Tai leader shook his head. Yniss forever punished the murder of innocents.

The drunk's passage up the alley was tortuously slow, the song discordant; now barely audible, now a gravel-throated low roar. Auum checked the college walls. So far, he had drawn no attention but approaching from the left was another foot patrol. Auum cursed silently.

Another stumble and the drunk was upon them, choosing that moment to lift the roof, his song reaching an incomprehensible crescendo. He caught Auum's bleak eye as he loomed from the shadow and the alcohol-induced exuberance caught in his throat. He half choked. Auum watched the man look him up and down then, as if sensing others, turn with comical slowness and repeat the process with Duele and Evunn.

He pointed at Auum. 'You-' he began.

'Go,' hissed Auum. 'Away.'

All thoughts of drink and song forgotten, he hurried out of the alley, bounced off the corner and turned left, heading towards the guards and glancing behind him every other pace lest death strike him down unawares.

Halfway to the patrol he had a change of heart and veered away but they were quick to intercept. One grabbed an arm, another asked a question and the drunk pointed back towards the alley.

'Fall back,' said Auum. 'Be ready.'

The Tai retreated into the black of the alley, back to and just beyond the bodies of the thieves. Light approached the mouth of the passage and the patrol peered inside. Duele tensed his bow.

'Let them come if they will,' whispered Auum.

And they did. Cautiously, holding a lantern well out in front and with swords gripped in nervous hands. Two were in front of the third. It was a formation that would save none of them.

Auum and Evunn crouched in front of Duele. They prayed as they waited that Shorth, the god of the dead, would take these men swiftly and silently.

The lantern's spread was maybe ten yards. It was a poor, smoky flame and the glass was dirty. Behind it, the patrolmen were picked out in ghoulish yellow light, their faces stark and scared, unsure. Auum waited. Like watching a hunted animal cross the point of no return, he scanned every movement looking for the sign that he had been sensed.

The moment they were too far into the alley to be seen from the college walls, the Tai struck. Duele's bow thrummed, the arrow bisecting the two and taking the third through the eye. Immediately in its wake, Auum and Evunn powered up from their crouches, covering the short distance with frightening speed.

Distracted by the fall of dieir comrade, the two had stopped and half turned. Auum planted his left foot and kicked up and straight out at his target, catching him in the throat as he swung back just too late. His windpipe crushed, he choked and fell, clutching uselessly. Auum pounced, his short sword delivering the killing blow.

Left, Evunn had downed his man. Blood poured from a gash in his neck and the light faded from his eyes, his cries muffled to nothing by Evunn's hand across his mouth. There had been barely a sound bar the lantern glass breaking when it hit the ground.

Auum nodded, gave brief thanks to Shorth for answering their prayers, and stood.

'They will be missed and found,' said Duele.

'Yes,' said Auum. 'But with these.'

He stopped and dragged one of the thieves' bodies from the scrub.

'Overpowered by enemies of their own kind,' he said. 'We'll place a blood trail for the one who got away.'

They worked quickly and then were gone, like whispers on the wind.

*

Heryst became groggily aware of his surroundings. He was in his chambers near the Great Hall. Trimmed lanterns cast a gentle light. The sweet smell of curative herbs bathed his nose and throat, clearing his mind like water washing away loose dirt. He stretched on his pillows and widened his eyes. At the foot of his bed, Kayvel came into focus.

'How long?' he asked.

'Exactly one hour,' said Kayvel. 'It was a remarkably accurate casting. Denser, I presume? Xeteskian, certainly.'

'Who else?' said Heryst.

'Anything hurt?' asked Kayvel, walking around the bed.

'You expect me to answer that?' Heryst almost smiled. 'You'll have to try harder.'

'Like The Raven, you mean, my Lord?'

'Sarcasm is poor humour. Especially at this hour of the night.' Heryst swung round and put his feet on the cold stone floor. He enjoyed the sensation. 'Make yourself useful and pour me a glass of water.'

Kayvel turned to the jug and crystal glass sitting on a tray by the bedside. 'It was too easy.'

'No, no,' said Heryst. 'They made it easy.'

'You let them stay here, my Lord. You let them carry arms on college grounds.'

'Which they used for nothing but threats. Effective threats, but just that. Even so, I didn't see that move in the courtyard. I thought I had it all covered but that was smart. Once they were inside, it was easy enough. Getting out, though, should have been well nigh impossible…' He trailed off, the events replaying in his head. He drained the glass Kayvel gave him in one and wiped a hand across his mouth.

‘Isaw it,' he said. 'And I felt it. Tell me you felt it too.'

Kayvel's face told its own story. 'Like someone dragging a hook down my spine.'

‘Iwant them followed,' said Heryst. 'And I want you to contact our delegation in Dordover and the lead field mages. I want to know how far the effects were felt. You might also talk to our Dordovan guests. No doubt they are already in Communion.'