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of these exiles and who had encompassed Hamare's death, but just to satisfy his own revolting, perverted lusts. And Karn had thought that a price worth paying.

The Archmage knew every shameful detail. The wizard woman had made that plain, when she appeared in that foul garret, intent on punishing Minelas. Litasse would have been taken captive to the wizard city there and then, if not for those same assassins sent by some magecraft to rescue the captured women. That was the cruellest wound of all; that she owed her escape from such utter folly to the very men who had killed Hamare.

The most quick-witted had challenged the magewoman. Did the Council of Hadrumal want Minelas's crimes shouted from the rooftops? His guilt would stain every wizard, in the eyes of ordinary men and women. He swore he would spread the whole shameful tale from sunrise to sunset if the Archmage pursued Litasse. Leave her penitent and humbled and no one would be the wiser.

Litasse wept in earnest, the pillow stifling her sobs. The assassin had saved her but she owed him no gratitude. He or one of his confederates had killed Pelletria, her faithful maid, longest serving keeper of Hamare's secrets and the one person left to whom Karn deferred. The loyal woman had been brutally thrown down a stairwell to break her aged neck.

When the opening door startled her awake, Litasse realised grief and fatigue had brought blessed oblivion. The dim light through the window was unchanged, so she had no notion how long she'd slept.

Karn tossed silver bracelets and a lapis necklace onto the darned coverlet. 'I'll sell these later so you'll have some coin that Iruvain doesn't know of.'

'What did you do?' Still woolly-headed with sleep, Litasse looked askance at the jewellery.

'Iruvain won't find her so alluring with two black eyes and a broken nose.' Karn smiled with cruel satisfaction. 'And she'll have some task convincing anyone of her virtue when she's found stripped and robbed in a surprisingly well-travelled back alley.'

Litasse contemplated his spoils feeling a little sick. Had the foolish girl really deserved that?

'She's the eldest daughter of Lord Zervan,' Karn continued. 'His estates are near Dromin in Carluse. I don't think he knew she was whoring herself. Perhaps Iruvain was hoping to win some coin from her for his silence.'

'Truly?' However much she despised him, Litasse struggled to believe her husband would stoop to blackmail.

'Better news.' Karn sank onto one knee, confiding. 'I have a letter from Her Grace your mother, passed to one of Master Hamare's friends here. Lord Leysen remains steadfast in his support for you both.'

'Truly?' Litasse's relief drove all other considerations aside. 'Can we get her a message? Can she send me money?'

Karn's smile widened. 'All in good time. Leysen has more news. There's been fresh fighting in Carluse, on the road between Tyrle and Ashgil. These rebels have no secure hold on whatever they think they've gained.'

'Who's fighting who?' Litasse tried to decide what this could mean.

Chapter Seven

Failla

The Tyrle Road Gatehouse,

Ashgil, Carluse,

17th of For-Winter

'Dinant?' She shaded her eyes to study a distant plume of dust. 'Who are those men?'

'I can't see any banners.' The grizzled man held his spyglass firmly against the buffeting breeze. He was an experienced soldier though he no longer wore Carluse's black and white livery along with his buff breeches and metal-studded boots.

Now his dark leather jerkin bore the five-spoked wheel, badge of Losand. That northerly town had suffered long and often in Garnot's quarrels with Jackal Moncan of Sharlac so its inhabitants had readily accepted the new freedoms offered by this rebellion. Dinant was one of four-score who'd volunteered to form the town's new militia and he'd soon been promoted. Now he was serving as a sergeant-at-arms for Ashgil's hastily mustered defenders.

His expression gave Failla a chill despite the sunshine.

'What's wrong?'

'Did you know some merchants' sons decided to try the road south a few days ago?' Dinant chewed on a tuft of his straggling beard. 'They reckoned folk around Tyrle would be desperate for Ashgil goods now they've no market of their own.'

Failla shook her head. 'I'd no idea.'

'The gaggle arrived back at daybreak after whipping their horses bloody.' Dinant's expression was somewhere between contempt and concern. 'They met up with a column of Triolle militia marching under the Soluran's standard. They said the Triollese had already taken a vicious kicking.'

Failla clenched her fists. That was Tathrin's column's second beating at the renegades' hands, according to the little that Kerith had told her. 'But