'Has there been any word of him?'

'None. But he cannot be far away. We shall have justice.' He looked at her. 'And our revenge.'

Peritus had suffered much, seen Armatus, his oldest friend, beheaded by Lykos. And he had seen Fidele in Jerolin, with Lykos at her side. She had condemned him to death, her friend, because of Lykos' spell. Peritus knew why.

'I am sorry,' she whispered.

He reached out a hand and squeezed hers. 'You were not yourself,' he said.

A Vin Thalun voice raised in song drifted on the breeze from the town.

'Why are they not attacking?' Fidele said.

Peritus shrugged. 'They have tried to storm the walls, and they have tried stealth. Easier to starve us out.'

'But what of Marcellin? They must know he is coming.'

'Aye.' Peritus' face creased in a frown, moonlight picking out ridges and making deep valleys of shadow on his lined face. 'That troubles me, too.'

A shout suddenly went up from the darkness beyond the wall. A clash of iron, a scream.

Feet drummed on the stairwell as more warriors took to the wall. Peritus had his sword drawn. Krelis suddenly loomed over them, a dozen warriors filling the stairs behind him.

'What's going on, then?' he asked them. 'An attack?' He sounded hopeful.

'Don't think so,' Peritus murmured, eyes scanning the shadows. 'Hard to tell, too dark.'

'We'll see about that,' Krelis said. He grabbed a torch from a warrior behind him and hurled it over the wall. It spiralled through the air, trailing a tail like a shooting star and thumped to the ground, sputtered but stayed lit. Darkness retreated around it, an orange glow illuminating the road and first buildings. Shadows appeared at its edge, figures lurching into the light, the first one silver-haired.

'It's Alben,' Krelis boomed. 'Ropes,' he cried.

Men spread along the wall, Fidele pushing her way through them to see.

Alben stopped, pulling the man behind him on a big man, tall, gangly, his limbs looking oddly stretched and out of proportion, somehow. Alben shoved him on, then turned and faced the darkness. The man he'd helped staggered out of the light, across the street and slammed into the wall, Fidele feeling the vibration of it. A handful of Alben's men appeared running to the wall, shouting up at the onlookers.

Krelis unfurled a rope over the side and tied it off. It creaked as someone began to climb.

Other figures spilt from the alley, Fidele searching desperately for Maquin. One man staggered and fell to his knees, was grabbed and pulled up and on. Two men, three. A dark shadow blotted out the torch for a moment and Fidele blinked.

What was that? Then it was gone.

Hands appeared over the wall, Krelis grabbing an arm and pulling one of Alben's warriors up. He was soaked with sweat, breathing hard, clothing torn, blood welling from many cuts, but he did not pause, instead leaned back over the wall, calling to the figure behind him.

A head appeared, a shock of jet hair upon a pale face, all sharp angles, flat planes and small black eyes. Wisps of a straggly beard grew from his chin.

It is a giant.

Men swore around her, swords grating, spearpoints lunging.

'No!' Alben's warrior yelled, stepping before the emerging giant with his arms wide, protective.

'He is our prisoner. Alben ordered that he is not to be harmed.' He helped the giant over the wall. I recognize him. Then she remembered where from. The riverbank; Lykos' prisoner.

'Where is his mother?' Fidele said into the shocked silence.

'Down there,' the warrior said.

Fidele stared back into the street, then she saw Maquin. He was standing with his back to her, though she recognized his form, the way he moved. He had stopped with Alben on the far side of the street, both of them trading blows with enemies in the shadows. Sparks grated, then Maquin and Alben were retreating, moving deeper into the street, Vin Thalun spilling out of the alley about them. Three, four, five of the enemy, more voices yelling beyond the torchlight. Fidele's heart lurched in her chest.

Alben's men were starting to reach the top of the wall, one flopping over, another close behind.

'Spears,' Peritus called.

Maquin and Alben were standing before the torch now, legs bent, a weapon in each hand. Vin Thalun were circling them, at least half a dozen, hanging back. Bodies littered the floor. Then Maquin did the unthinkable. He charged them. Fidele heard herself shout his name, saw him wade into the warriors, who were instinctively flinching away from him. He spun amongst them, leaving in his wake trailing arcs of black blood. For a moment Alben stood frozen, then he followed Maquin and hurled himself at the enemy.

For a few heartbeats she thought they were going to do it. Men were falling or staggering away, Maquin and Alben in constant movement, death-dealing wraiths, but then more Vin Thalun appeared from the alleys. The sound of marching feet sounded in the street, yet more running up from their fires by the main gates. Maquin took a blow on the shoulder, staggering him. Alben was. .h.i.t in the back and he dropped to one knee, another blow sending him sprawling to the ground. Maquin stood over his fallen comrade, sword and knife black with blood, for a few moments holding back the enemy.

Fidele watched, praying to Elyon, her fist tight around the hilt of her knife. Peritus sighted with his spear and threw, his aim true. His spear struck a Vin Thalun through the chest, sending him crashing back. It did little good, though, more Vin Thalun crowding in upon Maquin and Alben.

Then another figure appeared from the darkness, broad and hulking.

The giantess.

She swung something in her hands, long and sinuous. A chain. It smashed into the figures crowding around Maquin and Alben, sent them flying like straw targets on the weapons court. Then the giantess was throwing Alben over her shoulder and running for the wall, Maquin retreating behind her.

Vin Thalun swarmed after them, but as soon as they were in range a hail of spears from the guards on the walls lacerated them. Those that didn't die scurried back to the shadows. Maquin was shouting from below and then Krelis and a dozen men were tugging on the rope. The giantling loaned his strength and weight, pulling with all his might. The rope creaked, strained and moved.

Alben appeared first, still slumped across the giantess' shoulder. Hands pulled him onto the walkway, then the giantess was over, Maquin behind her. Fidele pushed her way through the milling warriors to Maquin. He was close to Alben, shouting for help. At her voice his eyes snapped onto her. His hand reached out and squeezed her tight.

'Told you . . . I'd come back,' he said, still breathing hard.

More Vin Thalun were in the street, but they kept a healthy distance. Then a face appeared amongst them that she would never forget.

Lykos.

He stood there as still as stone, looking at the wall. His eyes fixed on the giantess, a combination of rage and fear twisting his features. Then he saw her.

Her blood felt as if it turned to ice as terror struck her, her freedom, the escape, all she had endured and conquered during her flight to Ripa suddenly forgotten. A hundred memories flooded back, jumbling her mind, all of Lykos, his voice, his eyes, his breath, his touch. Then a hot rage swept through her. They stood there staring at one another, then he stepped back into the shadows and was gone.

Fidele marched through the corridors of Ripa's tower, Maquin at her side.

He had told her of Balara, of finding the Vin Thalun and giants. Of the decision to take them. And of their flight through Sarva.

'I don't know how the Vin Thalun found us so quickly. Perhaps someone escaped Balara, or they visited there soon after we'd left. Whatever it was, we knew we were being tracked by sunset of the next day. Alben led us deeper into the forest. We tried to lose them,' Maquin had said.

'How did you manage to do that with two captive giants?'

'They cooperated,' Maquin said, something in the tone of his voice shifting.

'I saw that. The giantess helped you save Alben fought beside you and carried Alben to safety.'

'Aye.'

'That's unusual.' She looked at him.

'Aye, it is.' He shrugged. 'Alben spoke to them in giantish. He would not tell me what he said. Whatever it was, he must have been very convincing.'

'Indeed. Giantish? That doesn't sound like the Alben I know.'

'There's more to him than herbs and poultices.'

'Yes, clearly. I think I'm going to pay these giant prisoners a visit.'

'I'll come with you.'

'You should be resting,' Fidele had said.

'If you think I'm letting you walk alone into a room with two giants in it then you're mistaken.'

'I have guards,' she had said, adding, 'when I request them.'

He had just ignored her and finished slipping his knives into their various homes about his body.

Two guards stood outside Alben's chamber in the belly of the tower, only a floor or two above Ektor's rooms. They did not try to deny Fidele entry to the giants' chamber, one of them dragging a huge deadbolt open and unlatching the door. They nodded respectfully to Maquin as he walked behind Fidele.

He is gaining a reputation amongst the warriors of Ripa.

The chamber was large, a row of shuttered windows high along one wall, chiselled through the rock to allow sunlight and fresh air in. Candles flickered in the salty breeze, the cry of gulls was loud and mournful.

Alben was there, sitting in a chair before a wide table. The two giants were with him, the giantess sitting on the far side, her son lying upon a thick-mattressed cot. They all looked at Fidele and Maquin as they entered the room.

'I am Fidele,' she said to the giants, ignoring Alben, 'once Queen to Tenebral's King, and now regent in my son Nathair's stead.'

The giantess regarded her impa.s.sively with small dark eyes. Her face was pale with a sharp nose and high angular cheekbones. She was muscular beyond belief, wearing a mixture of leather and animal skins. Her wrist was red and scabbed, and Fidele remembered the iron chain that the giantess had wielded in the dark, bound at her wrist with an iron collar. Gone now. Tattooed thorns spiralled about her right wrist, curling around her forearm and disappearing into a sleeve.

'Can you speak the common tongue?' Fidele asked.

'I speak a little of your tongue. Enough.' Her voice was like gravel sliding across granite.

'You are mother and son?' Fidele asked, looking at the giantling, who was still lying upon his cot, but he had propped himself up on one elbow and was watching with interest.

'Yes.'

'What are your names?'

The giantess' eyes flickered to her son, then back to Fidele.

'I am Raina. My son is Tain.'

'And what clan are you?'

'We are of the Kurgan.' As she said it, something crossed her face. Longing? It was hard to read. Her son tugged at his wispy moustache. It was a surprisingly old gesture on his young features, like an infant copying his grandfather.

'Why did Lykos hold you prisoner?'

At the mention of the Vin Thalun's name Raina snarled, fists bunching, and for a moment she was savagely feral, more animal than human. She did not answer, just glared at Fidele.

Fidele sighed, recognizing some of that pain and rage. 'How long have you been his prisoner?'

The fire dimmed in Raina's eyes. She shook her head. 'I do not know. A long time. I tried to count the moons, but they faded, blurred into one another.'

'Eight years,' another voice said. Tain, from his cot. His voice was flat, emotionless, a rasp to its edges.

'Alben tells me that you are our prisoners. Yet I see no chains of iron, no collars or bonds. And last night, you seemed willingly to climb our wall and enter this fortress. You fought beside our warriors.'

'For which I thank you,' Maquin said, nodding to Raina. He was leaning against a wall where he could see both Raina and Tain.

'You are welcome, little man,' Raina said with a twitch of her lips. 'Ones that fight so fearlessly should not be left to die in the street.'

'I thank you for that, too,' Fidele said. 'But my question still stands. How is it that you are not bound? That you did not take advantage of the flight to Ripa and flee your new captors? How is it that you fought with us?'

'Your healer is persuasive,' Raina said.

Fidele turned her stern eyes upon Alben. 'You speak giantish, then. How is that?'

'I am a healer, which required that I also became scholar. There is much to learn, and more is written in the scrolls I have read than how to make a poultice or boil a herb.' He shrugged.

'So what did you say to them, that so convinced them to become such willing prisoners?'

Alben looked from Raina to Tain.

'I told her that if she did not cooperate I would kill her son.'

Fidele blinked at that, then looked at him long and hard. He returned her gaze flatly, displaying no emotion.

I don't believe you. She did not think the Alben she knew would resort to threats, but more than that, there appeared to be something between Alben and the giantess, not quite a familiarity, but they both seemed . . . comfortable with each other.

The door suddenly slammed open, Krelis bursting in, Ektor in his shadow. Raina and Tain leaped to their feet, Raina stepping in front of Tain.

Krelis looked from face to face, paused with his mouth open.

'We've been looking for you,' Ektor said to Fidele. 'Marcellin is come.'

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT.