Zannah knew Alyssa was the best person in their camp to lead and so did the others. That was all that mattered. Humans puzzled her sometimes.

Alyssa started to say something else and then stopped, briefly resting a hand on Zannah's arm. Grief and sadness clung to her like a cloak. Once again Zannah was reminded of how small and frail Alyssa seemed at times.

"You want to tell me something that I will not like to hear."

"Yes."

"Then say it," said Zannah, looking up at the cloudy sky. Perhaps it was her yellow eyes, but Alyssa and the others found it easier to say difficult things when she looked elsewhere.

"We visited the remaining camps, including the old temple."

Zannah remained silent and waited for the words that Alyssa was struggling with. There was a blade hidden among them and Alyssa knew it would cut her. It would hurt either way but Zannah always thought it was better to be quick than slow.

"It was empty. They're all gone. Roake told us what happened. Fenne was starting to lose control of his people. Their fear of him was diminishing." Alyssa bit her lip before continuing. "He made a deal to save himself. He opened the gates and sacrificed everyone to the Forsaken. I've just had to tell Rheena, the girl Tammy rescued, about her father. Some of the others had relatives inside the temple."

It was one thing to hear that relatives were dead. That was difficult, but eventually it came to everyone. The pattern was as old as time itself. People had learned how to cope, but it never became an easy thing.

To be taken, hollowed out and remade into something else that wore your skin, was a difficult idea to hold in the mind. To see what looked like your family, walking and talking, had fooled many. Those people who welcomed their former kin with open arms were then dragged away and the betrayal they felt cut deeper than any blade.

"Soon they will rise again. We have a little time yet."

"It was two or three nights ago," said Alyssa.

A thought occurred which Zannah puzzled over, trying to see it from Alyssa's point of view, but finding no answer she eventually had to ask. "Why did you hesitate to tell me?"

"I know you hunted down your people who stayed behind after the war." She was trying to speak gently but there was no way to soften such things.

"That is true."

"And Fenne escaped. Since then he's done many evil things. I didn't want you to feel guilty for those taken from his camp."

Zannah checked to make sure this was not a joke, but Alyssa's expression remained serious. Her shoulders slumped in submission and she cowered, as if expecting to be hit. Perhaps she was supposed to be angry at what Fennetaris had done because he was also a Morrin.

"His deeds and his crimes are his own. Not mine."

"But if you'd caught him, those people might be alive."

Zannah shrugged. "Perhaps. But Fennetaris is rotten inside and his heart is black. I do not share the blame for who he is and what he has done."

This time Alyssa looked closely at her to check that she was not joking. Despite all the time they'd spent together, Alyssa and the others sometimes baffled her. When Alyssa was satisfied she offered a weak smile and her shoulders rose until she stood proud once more.

"Were you a tailor?" asked Zannah, more out of habit than anything else.

Alyssa smiled and shook her head.

Any further conversation was halted as a figure suddenly appeared at the end of the street. Zannah recognised him immediately. There was something familiar about him that spoke of home. As he came closer, the others on the wall started to panic, calling for weapons and reinforcements. Zannah ignored the bustle of activity while Fennetaris sauntered closer. Soon the wall was bristling with people, all of them armed and many pointing arrows at the lone figure. There was no sign of the Forsaken, but Zannah had no doubt they wouldn't be far away. They were probably watching to see how he performed. This did not feel like an attack though. He was up to something else.

When Fennetaris finally stood in the street below they stared at each other in silence for a long time. This was the first time in months, perhaps years, since they'd been face to face like this. He looked older than she remembered. Some of the colour had faded from his hair and beard. And though he did his best to hide it, she could see he was tired and afraid.

"Speak," Zannah said, but at first he remained silent. Instead he stared at the people on the wall, one at a time, as if memorising them. All knew who he was and had heard the stories of his crimes. Many could not meet his gaze, but others stared back, angry and defiant. The grin he used on them was a brittle mask but some were still intimidated by it.

Finally his gaze rested on Alyssa. "You lead them, yes?"

Alyssa drew herself up and stared down her nose at him. "I do."

"And they listen to you? To your orders?"

"This is not the army. I guide them."

Fennetaris considered this for a moment. "If your people were walking towards a pit, would you tell them to keep walking and trust you?"

"No. I would tell them to stop."

He gestured at the city around them. "Stopping in one place has not worked very well."

Alyssa would not be baited, but she played along with his game. "Then I would tell my people to go around the pit."

"A wise decision. But you cannot go around what approaches. You cannot avoid it. You can stop and wait, but the ending will still be the same. It will only be more painful if you fight. All will be Embraced."

A faint smile lifted the corners of Alyssa's mouth. "By your masters?"

"I have no masters."

"All I see is a servant and mouthpiece for someone else." Alyssa waved him away, dismissing him like a lowly subject in her court.

Fennetaris snarled but there was little he could do. The time when he could beat to death those who disagreed with him was at an end. He might not wear a lead but he was a servant, nonetheless, of those more powerful than him.

"I am here to offer you one chance for a peaceful solution. If you resist, then many of your people will be injured. Some may even die."

"And that would displease your masters, yes?" said Alyssa, copying his way of speaking.

"You dare mock me?" said Fennetaris. Bowstrings were pulled back and a dozen arrows pointed at his chest. He glared up at Alyssa as if totally unaware of the odds. "I will kill you with my bare hands. I will crush your skull and-"

"You will do nothing. You are nothing." Alyssa's words cut Fennetaris off as if she had slapped him across the face. His mouth gaped but no more words emerged. "You have no power over me or anyone else," continued Alyssa. "In fact, I pity you."

To be loathed and feared were things he was used to, but to be pitied was more than he could bear.

Fennetaris glared up at her. "I offered the other camps the same deal," he snarled, "but there will not be an Embrace for you. Tonight will be your last as individuals. Tomorrow all of you will be taken and changed by the parasites against your will. There will be no balance, only slavery."

Zannah called out to him. "Even if everything you say comes to be, it will not change what you are." His head snapped around and she leaned forward, hands on the wall, glaring at her former countryman. "You will always be a coward, Fennetaris."

"And I know what you are, traitor," he sneered, but his words had no power to hurt her. Deflated, powerless and alone, there was nothing more he could say.

Fennetaris turned and walked away while bowstrings relaxed and sighs of relief echoed along the wall. Nevertheless Zannah could sense they were more afraid than before. Fennetaris had succeeded in undermining their morale, and soon news of his visit would spread. He had made Alyssa's task even more difficult.

"I have to go," said Alyssa, frowning as if she realised what he had done and what now lay ahead.

A few hours later, before nightfall, a long procession of people carrying all their belongings appeared outside the gate. At the front was a group of bedraggled mercenaries. A runner was sent and a short time later Alyssa came back to the wall.

"Hello, girl," said the mercenary, trying to act brave in front of the others.

"Hello, Graff."

"Does that offer still stand?" he asked. It cost him a great deal to ask in front of everyone but Alyssa did not gloat or drag out the moment. Her warm smile enveloped everyone in the street and she welcomed them as family.

There were too many to climb the rope, so although he was physically exhausted the Sorcerer came up from his room. This time Zannah saw Balfruss struggle a great deal to lift the cart, but eventually he managed it. The spectacle gave many people hope where there had been none before.

By the time everyone was inside and the winery made secure again, it was dark. Torches were lit and a heavy guard set on the wall but the night passed uneventfully. But when dawn came without any sightings, many felt dread about the coming night, because they all knew that it could be their last as free men and women.

CHAPTER 40.

It was a little after dawn when Alyssa finally left the wall. The Forsaken had not come in the night, just as Fenne had promised. She'd kept watch all night with the others, staring into the darkness, trying not to fall asleep at her post despite the biting cold.

On the way to her room Alyssa expected several people to stop her and ask for advice. Perhaps it was because she was asleep on her feet, but she made it to her door without interruption.

Sleep claimed her the moment her head hit the pillow, and it was a little after midday before she finally woke. When she went in search of breakfast she was surprised to find the corridors full of people. There was almost a festival atmosphere with people eating, drinking and laughing. A few had brought out instruments and music drifted around the winery, adding to the mood. Word of Fenne's visit must have spread, and by now everyone knew what they faced tonight.

Now, more than ever, was the time for her people to live. When the Forsaken had first appeared, her people had cowered and hidden in their rooms. Now they laughed, danced and sang in the face of the enemy and the prospect of dying. The sound of ringing steel echoed from above and when she emerged into the courtyard she wasn't surprised to see long rows of people training with swords under the watchful eye of Zannah.

Tammy had joined her in instructing them and was walking up and down the lines, correcting people with slight adjustments to their arms, legs and shoulders. A few days' training would not make them skilled, but it was better than nothing.

Balfruss sat off to one side, wrapped in a blanket, an empty bowl in front of him. Since returning from his fight with the Master the previous day, the Sorcerer had done little except eat and sleep.

Alyssa sat down on a barrel beside him and together they watched the sword practice in companionable silence. Monella appeared a short time later with two bowls of something. Alyssa didn't care what it was and neither did her stomach which just rumbled with hunger. Monella gave her a bowl and after a quick glance at Balfruss gave him the second. He tucked in with vigour and was half done with his porridge before Alyssa had eaten her first mouthful.

"It's quite the party," said Balfruss, gesturing with his spoon. A trio with two fiddles and a drum emerged from inside the main building and behind them came a line of people. Each was carrying a bowl of food, which they began passing out to everyone in the courtyard. Practice stopped for a while as people moved to sit around the edges while the musicians played.

A group of six women, in pristine white dresses edged in silver, started to dance in the middle of the courtyard. They whirled and spun, leaping from foot to foot like prancing bucks. Watching them twirl about so quickly made Alyssa feel dizzy. It was an old folk dance she'd not seen performed in a very long time. Six men in matching green and gold outfits waited at the side and when the women formed a line they ran forward. Then the spinning began anew, as the men lifted each other into the air, one at a time and then in pairs. Soon they joined hands with the women and began to spin faster and faster as the tempo increased. People were clapping along and whistling as the crowd swelled. The music built to a crescendo and with one final explosive movement all six women were lifted into the air at the same time.

The applause was immediate and spontaneous. The dancers took a bow but were not done yet. The musicians started to play a slower tune and a few people were pulled up to join the dancers in the courtyard. If they didn't know the steps they were quickly shown until two lines had formed down the middle. Everyone was clapping along and laughing in good humour, even at their own fumbles and missteps.

Zannah came around to Alyssa's side of the courtyard but instead of talking she went up the stairs to the wall. The few defenders up there were watching the dancers and clapping along in time to the music. Zannah turned her back on the dancers and kept watch on the street by herself. Alyssa joined her and together they watched the city while listening to the music behind them. There was no sign of Roake anywhere, for which Alyssa was grateful. She knew Zannah wouldn't ask until she brought up the subject first. They would have to talk about it soon, but not just yet.

"I'll give you one more guess," said Alyssa. "Then I'll tell you."

Now more than ever Alyssa wanted Zannah to know who she'd been before the war. She knew a little about her friend, about what she'd done and why, but not who she used to be. Zannah thought about the past a great deal, and was weighed down by her failures, but there must have been a time before the war when she was happy and she smiled.

Zannah pondered the question and took her time because it was her last guess. "Were you a patron?" she asked finally. The question caught Alyssa by surprise.

"Why do you say that?"

Zannah shrugged. "All along you've said you worked with many different artists. It seemed the logical choice."

"It's a good guess."

"But it's not right."

"No." Alyssa touched her on the arm and Zannah turned to face her. "I was a muse."

"A muse?"

She was staring at Zannah but Alyssa's mind drifted back into the past. It seemed so long ago at times. "This city was full of so many creative people. Do you know what that's like?" Zannah shook her head but she barely saw her. "It was a place of miraculous accidents. They would happen every day. Sometimes three musicians would meet, sit down together and begin to play. The music they'd create in that moment would be unlike anything you'd ever heard before. Music so beautiful it made you weep. And the next day one of the musicians would move on and that music would not exist any more. Do you understand?"

Zannah shook her head in puzzlement. "What did you do?"

"The air was charged with a form of energy from so many creative people living together. Competition was fierce and sometimes an artist stumbled. They were tired, or inspiration left them at a critical moment. They hired me to help them find their rhythm again."

Zannah pondered this for a while before asking, "Did you give them your ideas?"

Alyssa smiled. "I know it's difficult to believe, but once I used to be beautiful. I had long hair down to my waist and a figure that women envied and men desired. Sometimes I posed for artists and that gave them the spark. Other times I merely sat in the room with a writer or poet and they would begin to write with intense fury. They paid me for my time."

"How did you do it?"

It was something Alyssa had pondered for a long time over the years. At first she'd not questioned her good fortune. It seemed foolish to try and unravel the reason when it could stop at any moment. But after a while, when artists and sculptors had continued to be inspired by her presence, she'd begun to explore her ability.

"The ideas are theirs. They're just stuck. I believe that inspiration comes through a small door in the mind. All I did was open the door and the ideas flowed."

Zannah's silence was long and contemplative. After spending so much time together Alyssa had become adept at interpreting the meaning of her different silences.

"They paid you well for this?"

"I was one of the richest women in the city. I wasn't a noble or a patron, but I lived like one of them." The thing Alyssa really missed from those days was her bath. It had been a glorious tiled monstrosity large enough for eight people. "I made them the best version of themselves."

"And this ability never left you?" asked Zannah.

"No."

Zannah's eyebrows shot upwards as realisation dawned on her. "Is it a form of magic?"

"I think they call it a Talent," she said, gesturing at Balfruss. "But mine is so slight, even he doesn't notice when I'm doing it."

"This Talent, did you ever-"

"No, never on you. I swear." Alyssa was adamant and Zannah accepted her at her word.

"But your magic is not why they chose you to lead. That is just you." Once again Zannah was proving to be more astute than she realised.

"The last time I used it was when I went onto the lake. I couldn't fish by myself so I encouraged a man named Crinn to help. Deep down he was a good man, but his fear of Fenne, and of whatever is in the water, stopped him from helping me." Alyssa regretted manipulating him. If the impulse to help her had not already been there, then it wouldn't have worked on him. Even so, she wished she'd hadn't done it. Crinn had nearly died on the water because of her. He'd fled as soon as they made it to dry land and had not been seen since. She suspected he was dead by now or had been taken.

"I would never have guessed. I'm glad I knew before the end."