‘What it is,’ Destrachis shouted above the wind, ‘is that the money goes to Collegium. That’s the way it works.’

Felise clung on grimly, trying to catch his words as the rushing air swept them past her.

‘If you do well for yourself in Helleron…’ he continued, quite happy, apparently, to carry on this conversation at the top of his lungs, ‘if you own a string of factories, make a mint, then you retire to Collegium. That’s where the respectables live, and having money like that buys you a lot of respectable, you see?’

She nodded, still trying to understand. Their automotive jolted at that point, some join or flaw in the rails, and she nearly lost her grip. If she fell now, though her wings would catch her safely, she would never catch up with this machine again. Nobody could fly as fast as the engine was propelling them.

‘And so,’ Destrachis went on, ‘there’s a market for luxuries. The Collegium rich like to flaunt it, same as everywhere. Spiderland goods come in up the coast, but for anything from the north, there’s a real battle to be the first with it. And that’s’ – he waved an arm perilously around, having hooked onto the automotive’s side with the other – ‘where this comes in.’

The machine they were riding was mostly open cage-work. The middle section was for the cargo, five or six heavily padded crates lashed together on a low-sided hold. At the front was the engine, which had originally sounded like thunder rolling across the hills to the west of Helleron, but the sound of it was now mostly merged with the wind. Parts of it glowed red-hot, while other parts were constantly being tightened by the three-man crew of artificers. It ran on firepowder and seemed, even to Felise who knew nothing about such matters, like a dangerous beast waiting for its moment to attack.

At the back of the machine was the meagre space the thing set aside for its crew. Two men were forward now, keeping the engine in tune. One was watching some dials and gauges that were wholly occult to her. Behind him, Destrachis and Felise clung on tight.

They were close-mouthed, tough-looking men, those three. Black Guild artificers, contraband runners, Beetle-kinden, all of them, and loosely allied to the fiefdom that Felise had served so well by eliminating the Last-Chancers. They were, above all, supreme opportunists, as this venture showed.

‘You see, this was going to be the big business,’ Destrachis further explained. ‘The Iron Road from Helleron to Collegium by a direct and unbroken rail, instead of having to go the square way round Sarn. Only they got the rail finished and then some fool blew up the engine. Thing called the Pride, most expensive automotive ever made, and they blew it up. You’d think someone else would step in, but no, the fellow who owned the Pride has the contract, and he’s blasted if he’s going to let anyone else get the first ride, so he’s having a new engine built, and meanwhile all these miles of shiny rails are just sitting here, doing nobody any good! So you see, these lads decided to jump at the chance. They tell me it’s easy enough to make an automotive run on rails, and once it’s running on the rails it goes a lot faster than if it wasn’t.’ He was grinning wildly, his hair streaming and, in the face of that, she had to smile back. ‘So these lads cornered the market!’ he finished, and she nodded to show she understood.

‘I love machines!’ he told her. ‘They fascinate me!’

‘But you can’t, really,’ she called back, and she knew that, downwind as she was, her words would not reach him. He read the remark in her face, though, and his grin merely widened.

‘I don’t understand them, but I love them. All the little parts and pieces!’

Despite the lack of available space, the artificers had taken them aboard willingly. They were engaged in a high-risk venture, for there could be brigands or even militia in their way, but Felise Mienn was the woman who had killed a dozen Last-Chancers single-handed. When she had asked Destrachis why they were taking him too, he had told her it was for the same reason.

‘You’re a fighter?’ She had sounded sceptical. He was a man for the underhand knife, perhaps, but no warrior.

‘I’m a doctor,’ he had said, with some dignity. ‘Or at least that was my training. I’ve been a lot of things since. Anyway, it’s a risky trip we’re on now. Injuries are likely from the journey or the machine itself. They’ll be glad to have me patching them up.’

The nameless little automotive scorched across the miles, the fastest thing in the Lowlands, according to its crew. Even the Pride itself would not be able to do this journey so swiftly, they boasted, since the power of its ingenious engine would be hindered by the weight of its carriages.

Felise was amazed that she could even catch her breath, amazed that the constantly churning engine did not fly apart or the crewmen get caught in its works or burned at any minute. The rush of the engine, the sweep of the countryside as it was hustled past them, the occasional brief image of some small village or herder’s croft, it all seemed to sing in her heart.

Would this be such a bad life? Perhaps she could find these men again, when she was done, after-

After what? For surely there would be no after. The one task that had sustained her this far would take the world with it once it was done. As though peering from a brightly lit room into the clouded night skies, she could see no after.

But this thought, with so much else, was soon blown past her by the incessant wind, and Destrachis was still grinning at her, so she smiled back at him and allowed herself to enjoy.

Destrachis woke with the tip of a blade at his throat. For a second he twitched uncontrollably, instincts yelling at him to do something, anything. He suppressed them, lying calmly for a moment to gather himself. Then he opened his eyes. There was a little moonlight slanting across them, and his eyes – and hers, he knew – would pick out enough from it to see their way.

‘I’m awake,’ he said quietly. They were in a Wayhouse located not far from Collegium. She had paid the surprised Way Brothers for a private room, and let Destrachis take a place on the floor, but now she had apparently had second thoughts.

Felise Mienn studied him down the length of her sword, and he thought she was trembling slightly in the faded moonlight.

‘How do I know I can trust you?’ she demanded.

He allowed himself a slight smile. He knew from experience that, on his slightly lined face, it seemed an expression of infinite reassurance. ‘Felise-’

‘You are too convenient,’ she said. ‘I think… I think you may be working for him. For Thalric – or for his masters. You are here only to stop me. Or else to warn him.’

She was trembling, he saw, but for all that the sword was still. Its tip was close enough to dimple the skin of his neck, but it drew no blood.

‘Felise, please listen to me.’ It was long practice that allowed him to lie there, as calm as a cloudless sky, and speak in such reasoned and measured tones.

‘Why would you leave your work in Helleron?’ she asked.

‘I am a mercenary at best, I have no roots-’

‘And why come along with me, just like that?’

‘You have money, do you not?’

‘And why-?’

‘But most of all,’ he said, risking much to cut across her increasingly urgent questioning, ‘we have had this conversation before.’

Dead silence from her. He stared into that face, beautiful as it was, and, in that instant, he saw nothing whatsoever alive behind her eyes. He granted her a long moment, and then continued.

‘Three days ago, camping beside the automotive, we had this exact conversation. Remember, it scared the squits out of those smugglers we were with? You accused me of being a Wasp agent. You had me pinned like this, almost exactly the same. It was the middle of the night, just like now. And then we talked, and I explained to you that, no, I wasn’t a Wasp agent, and that if you wanted me to leave you, then I’d do it, but I’d rather not. I’m simply a travelling companion who is, for the moment, heading in the same direction as yourself. And I’m not overly fond of the Empire, either. And I have watched you fight, and I find you admirable.’