‘Great!’

‘-but I’m not a man to run, Serrah. Not for anything.’

‘I know

that

. It’s one of your more endearing qualities.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t get smug about it. You have less endearing ones, too.’

They smiled at each other.

A trapdoor in the roof lifted and a head appeared.

‘Quinn?’ she said.

Disgleirio climbed out. ‘There’s news.’

‘About Kinsel?’

He nodded. ‘They’re going to put him on trial, and soon.’

‘That’s something, I suppose,’ Caldason argued.

‘Not really. He’s to be allowed no defence witnesses and no one to speak for his character, and the whole thing’s going to be in private with a single judge presiding.’

‘A show trial,’ Serrah murmured. ‘A veneer of justice with the verdict decided before they start.’

Disgleirio shrugged. ‘What else did you expect? There’s another piece of news, and I think it should interest you especially, Serrah.’

‘Tell me.’

‘We know who the VIP from Gath Tampoor is. It’s your old boss at the CIS. Commissioner Laffon himself.’

The blood drained out of her face and it took a moment for her to say anything. Then she whispered, ‘I think any chance Kinsel might have had just died.’

‘We’re not likely to find out anything by hiding here.’

‘Give it a chance, Reeth, it’s been barely an hour.’

‘I don’t know what you expect to achieve. The Resistance have plenty of people watching the place already.’

‘Like I said, when I heard Laffon was here I just had to do something.’

‘You don’t believe he’d walk out of there unaccompanied, do you?’

‘If he did he’d be dead before he got ten paces,’ Serrah vowed.

‘All right, we’ll stay a little longer. But I don’t know how safe this place is. Paladins are bastards but they’re not stupid; they’re bound to check buildings this close to their HQ. Disgleirio’s men have already had a couple of narrow squeaks.’

‘If it looks like getting awkward we’ll be out of here. Promise. Now keep your eyes open.’

The empty house they’d broken into was opposite the immense walls of the paladin’s bastion, and almost faced its main gates. Serrah and Reeth had arrived not long after dawn, and now the streets were starting to fill with people.

‘What

do

you think’s going to happen, Serrah?’

‘Nothing, probably. But don’t you ever feel you have to act rather than sit around waiting? Look, you go. I’ll stay here a while and-’

‘No, you’re right. We might as well be here as anywhere else. But don’t build your hopes up.’

Another hour passed. There were comings and goings across the road but they all seemed routine. Then a closed coach was let out.

‘For all we know, that could be him,’ Reeth said, ‘and we can hardly go over and demand to look inside.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Serrah sighed. ‘I guess this was a stupid idea after all. But I-’ Something caught her attention.

‘What is it?’

‘Over there. The small gate next to the main ones. See what I see?’

He peered through the gap in the dusty window drapes. ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’

‘You could hardly make a mistake about it; she’s pretty distinctive.’

A striking figure was leaving the grounds. She was athletically built and pale as snow, and her fair hair was cropped.

‘Interesting that she should be coming out of there, isn’t it?’ Reeth said. ‘Let’s get after her.’

‘Wait.’ Serrah dug in her pocket and brought out two die-sized orange cubes. ‘Face charms.’

‘Oh, no.

Must

I?’

‘Yes. The meld knows what you look like, and she got a look at me, too. She’d spot us in a minute without a disguise.’

‘I hate these things.’

‘I’m not crazy about them myself.’

He took the cube marked with an M, leaving the one with an F on her palm. ‘These are really expensive. Where did you get them?’

‘I couldn’t get the real thing. They’re counterfeits. So they

won’t be as reliable as a genuine spell. Won’t last anything like as long either, so bear that in mind.’

‘Great.’

‘Hurry up! She’ll be gone soon.’

He crushed the cube in his fist, then opened his hand. The pile of sandy dust flew from his palm and straight to his face, like a swarm of tiny airborne bugs. It settled as a fine, even coating, covering everything except his eyes and mouth, and instantly began creating the illusion. Serrah did the same, and in seconds their appearances were transformed.

‘Brunette suits you,’ he told her, ‘though I’m not so sure about the green eyes.’

‘Right. Now let’s-’

‘How do I look?’

She let out an exasperated breath. ‘Your Qalochian features have softened quite a bit. The blond hair looks all right, I suppose, but I don’t think much of the beard.’

Automatically, his hand went to his chin, but of course it felt just as smooth as always.

‘Can we

go

now?’ she insisted.

By the time they’d slipped out of the house the meld was halfway down the road. They followed at a safe distance, trying to look casual. Which wasn’t easy for Caldason, who felt self-conscious about the face charm. But nobody seemed to take any notice of them.

The meld turned into some of the centre’s busiest streets. Crowds made it easier for Reeth and Serrah to stay concealed, but increased the chances of losing her. They started to close the gap.

‘This damn thing’s beginning to itch,’ Reeth complained, fighting back the temptation to scratch his face.

‘So does mine. Try to ignore it.’

They were led up one steep lane and down another, then across a square. A block later they were in a busy street market.

‘Do you think she’s actually going somewhere or just wandering?’ Reeth said.

‘She seems to be walking with a purpose. Let’s get a bit nearer.’ She upped her pace.

The market sold everything. There were stalls with vegetables, fruit, cheese, meat, fish, bread and wine. Others were stacked with clothing, boots, saddles, chainmail, pottery, woven baskets, lucky charms and cheap glamours. Live lobsters were on sale, along with rabbits, cockerels, goats, kittens and venomous snakes. Healers held kerbside surgeries; soothsayers read fortunes from cards; people had their hair cut. Musicians strolled, plucking strings or blowing horns; jugglers flung their clubs; street jesters performed. Livestock bleated and everybody haggled.

Inevitably, there were glamours too. Creatures repulsive and comely materialised in flashes or expired in flaming shards every few minutes. Large and small blasts of magical radiance pulsed out on all sides. The din was fierce, and the air was scented with a thousand smells, pleasant and otherwise.

With the market growing busier, and the prospect of their quarry disappearing from sight, Reeth and Serrah had to follow at close quarters. They were almost near enough to reach out and touch the meld’s shoulder, should they be sufficiently foolish to do so.

‘The wretched thing’s tingling now,’ Reeth whispered, jabbing a thumb at his face.

‘Mine too. Don’t think about it.’

At that instant the meld stopped and turned. Reeth grabbed Serrah’s arm and pulled her to one side. Their heads went down and they pretended to be engrossed in a display of cheap jewellery. From the corner of his eye, Reeth was aware of the meld looking their way. A long moment later she resumed walking.

‘Think she spotted us?’ Serrah asked.

‘Don’t know. But at least she’s not running. Come on.’

They continued to trail her. The meld kept to an easy stride, occasionally glancing at the wares on sale, but mostly concentrating on weaving through the crowd. Emboldened, Serrah and Reeth began closing the gap again.

About six paces separated them from the meld when she stopped again. Once more, she spun around and stared. By this time her pursuers had drifted to the middle of the street, well clear of the stalls on either side. They froze.