By the time she had dressed in clean clothing and eaten a quick breakfast, Tammy and Balfruss had left for the day. Alyssa found Zannah alone on the wall, staring out across the city with a peculiar expression.

"What is it?"

The Morrin didn't answer for a long time but eventually she asked, "Were you a sculptor?"

Alyssa knew that wasn't what Zannah had originally wanted to ask. She thought the Morrin was afraid, but didn't know of what. Nothing seemed to scare her and yet this wasn't the first time she'd changed the subject when they were alone. "No, but I knew a few over the years."

"I'll get it one day," promised Zannah, but she didn't sound confident.

"Zannah ..." said Alyssa, trying to find the right words to broach whatever it was, but the Morrin turned away to watch the street.

"You should get some rest. It's your day off."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine," said Zannah. She was alone on the wall and would remain that way until nightfall when others would come to guard the shelter.

The thump of many feet announced the arrival of a small army of children. They ranged in age and height but all were golden skinned and in far better health than many of the adults. The skin of a few actually shone and looked golden in the winter sun. "You promised us a story," declared one small girl with dazzling blue eyes. "I want my story!"

Alyssa hesitated for a moment while several children pulled on her arm, trying to lead her away. Some of the older children frowned at Zannah, but the youngest were oblivious and didn't see her as different from anyone else.

"You should go," said Zannah.

Alyssa could do little but consent as she was led away by the hand to one of the children's play areas. A slightly larger room had been decorated with brightly coloured paintings on the walls, the floor covered with layers of carpets and cushions until it was a warm and cosy space. Not even the drab sunlight filtering through the two high windows was enough to diminish the cheery mood of the room.

"Tell us another story about the Blessed Mother," said one of the children.

"Were you one of the Faithful?" asked another. Alyssa bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from laughing at the idea.

"No, but I knew someone who was." Her smile faded as she thought of Monella, only a few rooms away. Once, she had led a congregation that numbered in the hundreds. Now the former priestess said very little and every other word seemed to be soaked in vinegar and bile. "Have I told you about the story of the Blessed Mother's rebirth?"

"Is it a scary story?" asked one of the younger boys, hiding behind a big cushion.

Alyssa gave the boy a warm and generous smile. "No, it's a wonderful story about the cycle of life and death."

For a while, the rest of the world drifted away until all that existed for Alyssa was a sea of eager faces. They were rapt, hanging on her every word, and she felt a mix of joy and sadness at the attention. When she reached the end of the story several children clapped and a few of the older ones quickly wiped away tears, pretending it hadn't affected them. It saddened her that they thought showing emotion was a weakness.

Promising them another story very soon, Alyssa wandered away down the corridor with no particular destination in mind. As ever, after retelling one of the many tales about the Blessed Mother, she felt an inner peace. The bright spark inside, that so often these days seemed as if it would be extinguished, had been rekindled. It swelled her breast, lifted her chin and, despite everything, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Her feet guided her back to the courtyard where Zannah maintained her lonely vigil. It would be good to spend some time together without any interruptions. Perhaps Zannah would finally ask the question she kept avoiding.

Alyssa had no sooner made it back to the top of the wall when she spotted several people coming into view at the end of the street. Zannah squinted at the distant figures and then gestured towards the stairs.

"Get the others," she said, picking up a recurve bow, bracing it against her foot and stringing it with one quick flex.

"Why would the Forsaken attack in the day?"

"Hurry," said Zannah, not taking her eyes off the street.

Alyssa raced down the stairs and gathered as many people as she could who were willing to fight, then left orders to pass the word around and went back outside.

An attack in the daytime was unprecedented. Last night's defeat must have been a more painful blow than she'd realised. By killing so many Forsaken they'd made them desperate enough to try something new. Perhaps they were hoping to catch everyone asleep in the base and wipe them out. Alyssa's heart was pounding in her ears as she took the stairs two at a time.

Zannah was where she'd left her, casually leaning on her bow, but now she seemed perplexed.

"What is it?"

Instead of answering, Zannah simply pointed down at the people in the street.

At least twenty or thirty were stood in a loose huddle not far away, all clutching weapons in a way she recognised. It suggested that until today none of them had ever held a blade or bow before. They seemed uncertain about what to do next and, looking at their faces, Alyssa thought she vaguely recognised one or two of them from her old life. Their homes, jobs and all of their wealth and influence were gone. Now they were ragged, dirty, almost skeletal figures with no name and nothing except the filthy clothing on their backs. Instead of a zealot's gleam burning in their eyes all she saw reflected was hunger. If they were Forsaken, they were like none she had ever seen before.

Defenders armed themselves quickly in the courtyard, before fanning out along the wall. Bows were strung and arrows nocked, ready for Alyssa's command, but no one fired.

Eventually a brave woman with filthy tangled brown hair stepped forward from the crowd in the street. Once she might have been beautiful, but now her dark eyes were too large in a hollow face, and her skin was blistered and cracked.

"Open the gates and give us your food," she declared, waving her borrowed short sword for emphasis. "Or we'll come in and take it."

A ragged cheer went up from the others in the street. It was ludicrous, but no one on the wall was laughing or even smiling. Zannah's grim expression turned even more sour as she looked past the rabble for the real perpetrators.

"What's your name?" asked Alyssa.

"Pella Rae. Are you going to open the gate?" she asked, not noticing that twenty bows were held at the ready. If the crowd was nothing more than it appeared, they would be dead long before any even made it to the top of the wall.

"Who sent you, Pella?"

"Fenne. He said we had to earn our place."

His was the mercenary camp with the worst reputation. Alyssa had never been anywhere near it, but the stories she'd been told by the few that escaped were horrible.

"If you lay down your weapons, you can come inside," said Alyssa.

Zannah hissed between her teeth and Alyssa felt a few others on the wall looking at her askance. "They can't be trusted," warned the Morrin. "This could be a ruse to get them inside. They could be working for him."

Alyssa shook her head. "They're hungry and desperate. They need our help."

"I can drive them off," said Zannah, nocking an arrow. "If I kill or wound one of them, the others will scatter."

"Put down your bow, Zannah. Go back to your families," she said, addressing the other defenders on the wall, but they hesitated. "I'll deal with this. You've trusted me so far."

"The Morrin is right," said Monella, stumping up the stairs. There was more vinegar in the former priestess's words than normal. She passionately hated Zannah, and Alyssa could see that it had cost her greatly to agree with the Morrin. "We trust you, but we don't know them."

"We can't turn them away," said Alyssa. "Fenne won't let them back inside his camp and if we do nothing they'll starve or freeze to death tonight. Or something worse could happen."

Monella flinched but didn't back down. Several tears ran from her rheumy eye but she didn't notice or care. "That's true."

Alyssa turned to face the older woman. "Are you saying you don't care what happens to them?"

Everyone on the wall was waiting for her to speak. Several emotions flickered across Monella's face and it took her a long time to answer. "We can't lock them up, but letting them just walk in doesn't sit right. They need to swear an oath."

"What kind of oath?"

"One of fealty, to you."

"They're not servants, Monella."

"They need to swear a blood oath," she insisted. "To do no harm to anyone here and to follow your orders. If they all agree to that, they can come inside."

"That seems fair," said Zannah. Alyssa was alarmed to see several people on the wall were nodding in agreement.

"I'm not royalty," protested Alyssa. "And a blood oath is not something to be sworn lightly."

Monella's crooked smile was unnerving. "Then it shouldn't be a problem for them to make it."

"This is wrong. Don't do this."

Alyssa looked for support to oppose this absurd idea but everyone was staring at her with the same adoring expression. She offered guidance to others but that didn't make her their leader. She tried to explain this but they would not change their mind.

To make matters worse, Monella sank stiffly to one knee, and in front of everyone swore a blood oath in a loud, clear voice. The rest sank to their knees and repeated the words until Alyssa was looking at Zannah over a sea of kneeling heads. For a second Alyssa thought the Morrin would also kneel, which would've been more than she could bear, but thankfully Zannah didn't.

It took Monella a while to explain to the group outside the gate but once they realised they wouldn't be turned away several wept with joy. Zannah collected every weapon and secured them in a safe location before Alyssa was allowed down onto the street.

Under instruction from Monella, and with several others watching from the walls, one by one the new arrivals knelt in front of Alyssa. Each swore a blood oath of fealty and when one woman tried to kiss her hand Alyssa drew back in horror. When it was finally over she hurried into the main building, suddenly desperate to be away from the adoring faces and grateful smiles.

The corridor swam in her vision as tears clouded her eyes and she swallowed a desperate hitch in her throat. This wasn't right. She wasn't a leader. She wasn't a member of the nobility. No one should be bending their knee to her. She didn't want this. Until now she'd let people hold on to whatever rituals made them happy, but this was a step too far. She had to stop it before it could spread any further.

Turning on her heel Alyssa wiped her eyes and intended to march back up to the courtyard when she saw the faces of other people around her in the corridor. All were looking at her with the same adulation as the new arrivals. It had always been there and she'd just not seen it. Pride had made her blind and now it was too late.

Biting her lip she managed to make it to her room and close the door before the first sob escaped her lips. She curled into a ball and wept, praying through floods of tears to the Blessed Mother for wisdom.

CHAPTER 20.

Tammy had spent the morning visiting other mercenary camps and now only one remained. She'd left it until last on purpose because it had the worst reputation. Several people she'd spoken to had fled from the camp, which was run by a Morrin known as Fenne. Although the conditions they endured in the other bases were not comfortable they preferred it to Fenne's camp. This time Tammy had left the winery in her leather armour, armed with two daggers and her sword.

With a heavy pack of wine clanking on her shoulder she approached the final camp with some apprehension. The building must have once been a temple, as she could see a golden dome rising above what had formerly been a white stone wall. Now it was black and grey, smeared with what looked like dried blood and ash.

The neighbouring buildings on either side had been torn down and all rubble cleared away. A series of metal spikes driven into the ground formed a tangled web of sharp edges and blades along both sides of the temple. The wall looked as if it had originally been intended to be decorative. It had not been designed to protect worshippers from a siege, but now Fenne had turned the temple into a fortress.

At the front of the compound the only gate remained clear of spikes. The thick wooden doors looked new and had been banded with iron. Fenne had created a choke point and no doubt behind the gates he had a nasty surprise for any Forsaken that managed to make it through. Whatever else, the man was obviously devious and well prepared.

Long before she approached the entrance Tammy realised she was being watched. She'd spotted at least two lookouts positioned in buildings on either side of the street. Brief flashes of light from pieces of a mirror relayed a message back to the main camp so by the time she arrived four mercenaries were watching her from atop the wall. All were hard-faced men and women and each carried a bow held at the ready.

Moving slowly Tammy slid the rucksack off her back and took out a bottle of wine. Much to her surprise the gates started to open before she had a chance to make the offer. Four more mercenaries came out to meet her, three men and a woman with spiky red hair. Their leader, a well-built Seve dressed in ragged grey furs over chainmail, rubbed at his greying beard as he craned his neck to stare her in the eye. Though he was slight for a Seve, at only six feet tall, with a craggy face and eyes so dark they were almost black, Tammy thought he looked familiar. The most unusual feature about him that stuck in her mind was that he carried a sword on his back. It was a peculiarity normally reserved for Drassi warriors.

From the way he was looking at her it seemed as if he also recognised her from somewhere. "Perizzi?" he asked, and she nodded. "We all end up passing through there eventually."

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"We keep an eye on the other camps," he said by way of explanation. "I'm Kovac. If you want to come inside we'll need your weapons."

Tammy didn't try to argue the point or even threaten them if they reneged on the deal, but as she passed Maligne over to Kovac she paused. "Take good care of this blade. It was a gift from a friend."

Kovac took the sword from her and held it carefully. "You have my word."

She didn't think his word was worth much, given his profession, but again she kept her mouth shut. One of the others reached for the pack and she handed it over, then offered the bottle in her hand to Kovac. He passed it on to someone else, who pulled out the cork and took a sip.

"That's good shit," said the woman with spiky hair.

"How would you know, Sylla?" asked one of the other mercenaries as he reached for the bottle but she snatched it away.

"I used to sell this stuff," said Sylla, staring at the bottle with a frown and then smelling the wine. "Where did you get it from?"

Tammy said nothing. If Sylla was telling the truth and she knew her wine then any information could be dangerous. Anything she said might give them a clue as to where the wine had really come from.

"Fenne agreed to the same deal," said Kovac, steering her towards the open gate. "The wine for one hour inside the camp. I strongly suggest you don't linger."

Tammy accepted the warning and then there was no time for further conversation as she had to watch carefully where she was walking. Just beyond the gate was a huge yawning pit, maybe ten feet deep, lined with more metal spikes. Stones that had probably been poached from neighbouring buildings formed two high walls on either side, creating a long tunnel.

A narrow wooden gangplank lay across the middle of the pit and she waited until Kovac had crossed before following. Even then the plank wobbled up and down with just her weight and Tammy had to raise her arms to maintain her balance. One wrong step and she'd plunge to a grisly death. The pit was too long to jump and there was no space on either side to walk around. It was devious and it told her much about Fenne.

"One hour," said Kovac, gesturing around the courtyard. Unlike the other camps the temple was all on one level. There were several small outhouses built into the walls of the courtyard, two large stables and beyond them three long narrow buildings. Finally, at the back was the temple itself, its golden dome reflecting some of the meagre winter sun.

Tammy spotted several local people hard at work, fetching and carrying water from a large central well, cleaning weapons, repairing arrows and sharpening a massive pile of metal spikes. One woman worked the crank while two more held a crude metal bar against the grindstone and a shower of sparks erupted. A woman dressed in leathers stood over them, yelling instructions as sparks burned their skin.

Elsewhere she saw more people being brutalised and not one of them fought back or even glared at their tormentors. Shael was a land of broken people and those in front of her had come to accept such treatment, as if it were just their lot in life.

Tammy heard horrendous sounds of what could only be torture coming from one of the outhouses. Kovac flinched as the screams reached fever pitch and then suddenly cut off. The door of the small building flew open and a lean Morrin emerged, stripped to the waist.

Fresh blood dripped down his face and neck and more covered his furry chest and arms. His horns and hair were doused in it and he spat a huge red wad onto the ground. Everyone in the courtyard stopped what they were doing to stare as a heavy silence fell.

"Get back to work," snarled the Morrin. As if whatever he'd been doing hadn't just happened, everyone turned their faces away and went back to their tasks. As long as it wasn't them. After all, as they probably kept telling themselves, worse horrors were waiting for them outside the gates at night.

Tammy took a deep breath to try and maintain her calm. She managed it eventually but it took a while for the adrenaline to fade. Time was short so she went to work, approaching the nearest person.

After speaking to several locals, once they were given permission by whichever mercenary was lurking nearby, Tammy had very little new information. All of them had lost friends and relatives in the last few years and the pattern of disappearances seemed random. Whenever possible she mentioned Alyssa's offer of sanctuary in a whisper. Each time the person listened but never agreed to anything. One woman laughed and said she wouldn't be caught out by such a trick, and that she was loyal to Fenne.

Tammy was beginning to worry that none of the locals knew anything when she came across an old man scrubbing potatoes. At a second glance she realised he wasn't actually that old, but his skin was so pale it was almost translucent. He was so skinny Tammy could see every rib of his body. One of his eyes was swollen shut and a purple bruise ran down one side of his face.

"I'm Tammy."

"Perron."