Wrenn’s eyes were wide in disbelief. He ventured, “Stop here and see if they come down to us.”

“In range of the trebuchet? Why not carry a target and make it their sport? We could offer foreign gold as prizes!” Lightning had a clearer idea of Gio’s character.

“They must be very confident,” said Mist.

“They shot at me!” I said.

“Jant, quit wringing your hands and tell us-you know these roads-how can we reach the Castle without pushing past them?”

I said, “We’re about halfway to Eske. This is the only coach route, unless we go back into Awndyn and join Shivel Road. It’ll take a couple more days because it’d put us two hundred kilometers out of our way. And it’s probably packed with mangonels.”

Mist took off her cap and ruffled her hair, which was damp with sweat. Her face betrayed the stress she was under, some puffiness around her disturbing indigo eyes. “Into the woods and outflank them, then. I’m carrying important information that I don’t want them to capture.”

Wrenn found this ignominious. “We can fight if necessary!”

“Unfortunately, Serein, I think they’d shoot you, too.”

I ordered my driver to take the carriage back to the last coach inn, the Culver Inn, and wait there for instructions. If he received none after three days, I told him, he should return to Awndyn. I didn’t want to lose my possessions. Lightning, Mist and Serein dismounted and led their horses off the road into the forest undergrowth. At first the going was hard; brambles hooked in my trousers and tore them. The pungent smell of bracken was up around our noses. Farther from the track, less light penetrated the canopy and fewer plants grew between the trunks. Tinder-dry oak and beech leaf litter crunched under our feet and the hooves. “I hope Gio’s rebels don’t torch this,” I said.

Mist said, “God, now he thinks of it! Scout ahead and tell us how far we have to walk before we can rejoin the road.”

I shrugged off my water bottle that glugged at every step, and hung it on Wrenn’s saddle. I dashed away. It was impossible to move without sound in the forest; stories that tell of my predecessors doing so are just flattering lies. But I have lively reactions and I can run so swiftly through the tangle that no one registers the sound as human. I ducked under branches, leapt over fallen brushwood and sprinted with long strides. I sped up the rise and doubled back to the road. It seemed clear beyond the camp. I hid behind a tree, peered out and withdrew immediately. Another band of men strutted past with their pikes on their shoulders.

I ran on again, enjoying myself, but every kilometer I spotted more groups, so I returned to my friends, nimbly through the spaces between snarled undergrowth. Hot saliva was gushing into my mouth; I felt real once more. “This isn’t good-they’re all along the road! We…” I lowered my voice. “We could walk in the forest all the way to Eske but there’s a hundred and twenty kilometers to go, so it would take you days. I say we keep going until nightfall and then try to rejoin the road farther on, when the rebels should be encamped or indoors. I’ll scout ahead again.”

Mist said, “Lead on then, smoky creature.”

“Somewhere around here is the Cygnet Ring Inn ratskeller. Foresters drink there so we should pick up a track eventually.”

“Damn, you move so fast I can’t even see your footholds,” Wrenn grumbled. “There’s no path here.”

“Then we make a path.”

We walked, leading the horses, over the copper-colored floor, under the stippled green ceiling for the next few hours, some distance from the road so we wouldn’t be heard. The light began to fade and the dusk became darker by degrees. The ground could not be seen clearly; tree boles seemed to float toward us, distanceless. I felt as if something sentient and silent was watching us. I couldn’t decide whether it was large and invincible, or small and instinctive.

On the road with their mounts, the others had been slow, but now negotiating trees and bramble thickets they slowed still further until they didn’t seem to make any headway at all. I burned with frustration. I kept urging them on until Mist lashed out, “I’m going as fast as I can! I can hardly see. I keep stumbling over things and so does this stupid nag. I hate this; we’re in the middle of nowhere and the Empire’s suddenly crawling with people who despise us.”

Lightning intervened. “Look, Jant, let’s rest here, have a few hours’ sleep and then check if the road is safe. The newspapers said Eske is full of unrest and I don’t want to be exhausted when I travel through town.”

“You’re all so unbelievably tardy,” I said, but I flopped down immediately and made myself comfortable on the leaf litter. The others, who were not as practiced at bivouacking or as careless as a Rhydanne, looked about for a patch of grass or a landmark to camp next to.

Wrenn threw his pack on the ground and sat on a stump that was so rotten he bounced off it and it fell to pieces. He brushed moss from his arse and began to unlace his boots.

Lightning paced about. “I think that the town will be safe without Gio to stir up the Zascai. The ingrates don’t understand how hard we have been working for them all this time…” He tripped over a tree root and kicked it angrily. “Creeping about in the dark like highwaymen!”

The post-coach jumps the news from manor to manor. I imagined every governor realizing that the Castle is only protected by tradition and their own beliefs. I almost heard them thinking: what could be in this for us? “Half the Plainslands has supported Gio for six months. We don’t know what we’re heading into.”

Mist said, “I only know we must make haste to reach San.” She made a small hearth, unrolled her blanket and shared out some Trisian pan forte and a flask of red wine. “I think Gio wants to cause us as much pain as possible before we inevitably catch him. I can tell he must have little hope because his methods are so desperate…” She fell into a reverie and did not speak again. We heard people passing by at the road’s nearest approach. I felt satisfied that I could lie hidden and observe them, and they wouldn’t know I was listening.

Lightning took out one of his books. He was writing his three-hundredth romantic novel, which would probably be much the same as the other two hundred and ninety-nine, but maybe this time with a nautical theme. Their popularity was a constant source of wonder to me. He usually pays me to translate his unimaginative but ardent scribblings, but he always has my translations checked. Lightning looked wistful, a powerful emotion he had practiced over centuries, which he now fell into easily. He had adopted it when it was fashionable, although it didn’t suit him. “Swallow is never here when I love her,” he said. “I wish I could speak to her. In times of trouble, she finds an inner strength. Maybe it’s because she lives in pain and is hardened to it.” He sighed, and went back to writing, with the practicality of a lover who has sought the same character in different women over fifteen hundred years.

For the past hour I had thought of nothing but scolopendium. My mouth watered for it and my joints ached. I couldn’t hold out much longer before my need began to show. It’s just a weakness of my body, I thought; it isn’t really me. I opened a knotwork painted tobacco tin containing my stash and a syringe. I acted casually to protect me from the others; underneath I bubbled with excitement and blame. “Don’t mind if I hook up?”

“Oh, go ahead.” Mist shook her head in disgust, though I could tell she was taking notes.

“Thanks. You don’t know how much I…”

“I’m beginning to guess,” said Wrenn.

“So one day it’ll kill me. Want some?”

“Certainly not!” he said contemptuously. He walked to the edge of the clearing and stood with his back to us to have a piss. Then he returned and lay down on his coat with his rapier to hand. He watched me covertly, pretending to be asleep.