‘Stop!’ shouted Ghorr.

The soldier kept climbing towards the air-dreadnought.

‘Captain,’ raged Ghorr, ‘take him down.’

The mist was thickening all the time and Nish couldn’t see who Ghorr was giving orders to, though he could see the soldier, who was still climbing desperately. The man looked down in terror, tried to pull himself out of the way of the bolt then threw up his arms and fell. Streaming mist cut off the scene, though Nish could well imagine what was going on. Ghorr was still shrilling orders but Nish could no longer make them out.

‘Now!’ Nish said urgently. ‘Ullii, could you –?’ He looked around. Ullii had vanished.

He cursed her under his breath, in a rueful sort of a way, though he should have been used to it by now. Fitting a bolt to his crossbow, Nish flitted from mist patch to mist patch, towards the prisoners’ pen.

Three guards remained, still covering the prisoners with their crossbows. They looked nervous and it wouldn’t take much for them to go on the rampage. How could he overcome them, all alone? He still had the naphtha flagon over his shoulder but didn’t dare use it. Like as not, such a blaze would kill everyone.

A soldier came running through the murk, calling out to the guards. He gasped out an order then turned back. The first guard nodded and returned to the pen, hefting his crossbow as if to shoot.

Nish aimed at the centre of the soldier’s back and fired. The soldier grunted and fell. The others whirled, raising their weapons. Nish lay still, carefully fitting a bolt to his bow but not daring to wind back the cranks, for the sound would give him away instantly.

They were looking in his direction and must know roughly where the shot had come from. The leading soldier saw him, aimed and fired in one smooth, well-trained movement.

Nish threw himself to one side and the bolt carved a painful streak down the outside of his thigh. He came to his knees, frantically winding his cranks as the second soldier brought up his weapon. Nish squeezed the lock but the bolt, which hadn’t been seated properly, shot out sideways and landed on the deck beyond his reach.

Nish looked up despairingly. The prisoners pressed up against the barbed ropes, staring at him. He could sense them willing him on but there was nothing he could do.

‘It’s the artificer,’ said the first soldier. ‘Take his weapon, Ragge. Chief Scrutator Ghorr will pay a fortune for him alive.’

‘But not necessarily whole,’ grinned Ragge.

‘Ghorr didn’t say anything about whole.’

Ragge drew his knife, a long, curving blade that would have been ideal for gutting a buffalo. ‘He won’t mind if I take a little trophy. It’ll go for a pretty price in the markets when we get back.’

Nish slid one hand into his pocket for another bolt.

‘Move your hand again and my friend here will take it off at the wrist,’ said Ragge. ‘He’s the best shot in the Guard.’

Nish palmed the bolt but kept his hand where it was. The soldier could shoot him before he got it out of his pocket. Ragge’s eyes were red-veined, his mouth twisted in a sick kind of malice. Such were the people that Ghorr gathered around him. No man could serve such a monster without having his own hefty dose of evil.

‘Get up,’ said Ragge.

Nish came to his knees and tried to rise.

‘Stay just like that,’ grinned the guard.

‘You like them on their knees, don’t you,’ said the other. ‘Come on – this place could collapse any minute.’

‘It’ll be a while yet. Its strength comes from the cross-stays, not the canvas.’ Ragge came towards Nish, the knife held low. He would strike upwards to maim, and it would be a difficult blow to evade.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Nish saw the most astonishing sight – a tall figure flying over the fence of the prisoners’ pen as if fired from a catapult. Yellow hair streaming out behind her, Irisis came down, hands still bound, and kicked with both feet at the guard with the crossbow.

The blow would have been perfect except that she hadn’t been thrown quite far enough. She didn’t strike the soldier in the back of the neck, as she’d intended, but between the shoulders.

The impact drove him to the deck, where he landed so hard that the crossbow went skidding across the canvas. Unfortunately it didn’t go off.

‘Look out!’ Nish cried, rolling out of the way of the knife.

Irisis landed awkwardly, bounced on her feet and went for the fallen crossbow. Ragge had spun around at the melee. He ran towards his comrade, then turned to Irisis when it became evident she would reach the crossbow first, though it was moot whether she could use it effectively with bound hands.

Nish slipped his bolt into the slot and back-pedalled, winding his cranks. Ragge spun on one foot, looking from him to Irisis. Nish’s crank was half wound, enough to fire though not to do much damage.

Irisis reached the fallen crossbow and snatched at it, but could not pick it up cleanly. She was just raising it when the other guard threw himself at her and tore it out of her hands.

Irisis went down hard. The guard stood up and aimed the crossbow at her face. Nish froze. His weapon was fully wound now but he couldn’t decide what to do. If he shot at Ragge, the other man would surely kill Irisis. But if he fired at Irisis’s attacker and didn’t kill him instantly he and Irisis would both die, for Ragge would gut him before he could reload.

Nish swung the bow from Ragge to Irisis’s attacker.

The man deliberately gave his crank another wind. ‘Put it down,’ he grated, ‘or I’ll shoot her in the face.’

Disfigurement was the thing Irisis feared most. She’d always been vain about her looks. Ragge wore a loutish grin and Nish knew he had no choice. He’d sooner lose his own life than see Irisis suffer so.

He fired without warning, not for her attacker but for the man’s crossbow. It was not an impossible shot for an accomplished archer, as he was, but it was a difficult one, the soldier being a good ten spans away. If he missed, or the soldier managed to fire first, at least Nish wouldn’t have long to regret his folly and Irisis’s ruin.

The bolt struck the soldier’s right hand, then the lock of the crossbow, knocking the bow sideways. The soldier shrieked, jerked it back towards Irisis’s face and squeezed the lock.

At least he tried to, but nothing happened. He looked down stupidly to discover that the bolt had taken off his fingers. That was all Nish had time for. Ragge, taking in the situation at a glance, lunged at Nish with the knife. Nish hurled the useless crossbow at the soldier’s head but he ducked out of the way.

Nish went backwards, fumbling for his small, blunt knife. Ragge laughed when he drew it and slashed the air in front of Nish’s face. Nish went the other way, straight into a left hook that lifted his feet off the canvas. As he hit the deck, Nish realised that he hadn’t even seen it coming.

He landed on his back and the knife went flying. Nish’s head was ringing. He looked up dazedly as Ragge put a large foot squarely in the middle of his chest and reached lower down with the knife.

‘Trophy time, traitor.’

Without further word, or even a change in expression, he fell forward on his face, the huge knife puncturing the canvas beside Nish’s arm. The thick legs knocked the wind out of him.

Nish rolled over and dragged himself out. The bolt had struck Ragge in the back of the neck, severing the spine and killing him instantly. Irisis was on her feet ten spans away, holding the other crossbow in her bound hands. The soldier who’d attacked her was backing away, staring at the bloody stubs of his fingers. She brandished the bow at him and he stumbled off into the mist.

Irisis came across, holding out her hands, and he cut her bonds with the big knife. She set down the crossbow, and Nish saw that the lock lever was bent to the left. It was a wonder she’d been able to fire it at all. Irisis embraced him.