We need to do something. Get out somehow. The clicks and grunts are loud in the silence of the basement.

  Loran tilts his head against the pole he’s still chained to. Just sitting upright with the heavy chain pulling on his neck is a challenge – days on starvation rations have done their work. Even free, he’d struggle to fight. Which is the point, he comments bitterly to himself.

  I’m open to suggestions, he tells Enchanter tiredly. The Pathwalker is fuming, but Loran can tell that it’s from fear – her hope of being rescued is beginning to wane. As is Loran’s. Not that he had much of it to begin with.

  He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He can’t be certain that the food and water always comes at the same time each day – in fact, it’s highly likely that it doesn’t, just to disorientate them further. At least five days; probably less than a tenday.

  The boredom is the worst aspect. And the gags. At least those are no longer in play, thanks to Alyna’s persuasion. Loran was grateful for that, especially when she argued successfully to have the samurans’ taken off too. Loran had had to promise that they would be docile, and he’d been warned that a single bite would result in the gags being put straight back on. The samurans are at least smart enough not to snap at the hands that feed them – not unless they can get rid of the other chains too.

  If only the boredom could have been dealt with as easily. Alyna’s the only one who speaks to them, and she doesn’t come down every day. The man who brings their food refuses to respond to Loran, no matter what he says. He didn’t even respond when Loran had, in frustration, called him a livestock-ploughing son of a helven. He did sock Loran in the jaw, though, which reminded the slave that there are worse things than boredom.

  He wasn’t sure if he was happy or disappointed when the healer healed the bruise on his regular visit. Sure, it hurt, but at least it was something different.

  That there is a healer keeping them all in decent – albeit weak – condition means something, though: they’re being held as collateral – considered valuable. Comforting, until he remembers it also means their survival depends on their master’s compliance. Or if they can escape.

  Opportunities for that have been limited.

  Their mouths might be free, but with metal chaining them, that means little. Shouting just had Alyna warning them that the gags would be put back on if they continued. The magic-users report that their magic is restricted within their bodies. And the people who have visited them have been careful not to leave anything nearby that could possibly be used to pick locks or break through chains.

  Despite his best wheedling, Alyna won’t risk much. He’d settle for an ‘accidentally’ dropped hairpin, but she’s only willing to bring scraps of news. Honestly, he’s grateful for that much.

  It’s been enough for Loran to piece together that Dexil is acting under the orders of someone else – some assassin called The Shadow. And that The Shadow wants them unharmed – apparently there was an argument a couple of days ago over how much food and water they are allowed, which led to a moderate increase in both. Not in frequency, but now it can almost be considered a full meal once a day and if Loran is careful with how much he drinks, he can spread it out over most of the day.

  Even better, the samurans are actually being fed now and Alyna’s been given the job of cleaning them all up from time to time. Loran feels a little for her, but since she won’t consider even bringing a chamberpot, there’s not much he can do. He knows that Catch wanted to attack Alyna the last time she cleaned them up, but Loran managed to halt the idea in its tracks.

  He wants to pretend even to himself that it was a practical concern – they don’t know what else is guarding them outside this basement and hurting their only potential ally seems like a bad move. But when he can’t keep his eyes open for tiredness and he can’t sleep for the gnawing in his stomach, he has to admit that he doesn’t want to be the cause of her death.

  And Loran understands her caution even as he chafes over it. As far as she can tell, Loran and the group have nothing to offer her that outweighs her fear of Dexil. The idea that their master will come and find them seems an impossible dream.

  Of course, River’s hope stays stubbornly strong, as does that of most of the Pathwalkers and several of the non-humanoid Bonded. Orion, Blaze, and Spot seem to be as dubious as Loran himself. But, from what he’s heard, they’re almost as new to the group as Loran is. At least one good thing has come of their forced proximity – he now knows far more about his companions than he did before.

  Next time one of the Pathwalkers decides to do something stupid like leave a protected estate to go to a village just because they’re too impatient to wait for official permission, he’ll easily refuse to help without fearing reprisal.

  He’s still not entirely sure about Markus – the picture painted by his Bonded isn’t like any noble or master Loran has ever had experience of. But it’s hard to deny their conviction. And even Pride, the most standoffish of the group, admits that Markus isn’t that bad – high praise from the well-named reptile.

  The light level increases in the room briefly as the unseen door opens and then quickly shuts. Light footsteps make their way down the stairs and through the boxes and barrels that stand between the door and the captives. They’re enough to signal who’s coming and Loran looks hopefully towards the gap between the boxes.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Soon enough, Alyna slips into the circle of dim light, a wary look on her face and her own lantern in her hand. Loran recognises that expression; she’s worried.

  “Been ordered te check the runes,” she explains quietly even as she heads for the first cage.

  Loran frowns slightly to himself. Didn’t she check them recently?

  His mind clears a little and he becomes more alert. Boredom slips away as his instincts tell him that something out of the ordinary has happened.

  “What’s up?” he asks her slightly hoarsely.

  Alyna twists around to eye him nervously, then turns back to her work.

  “Some nob’s come te Sa…town,” she admits, worry cracking through her usual caution.

  Loran feels the attention of all his companions sharpen as he relays what she said – they don’t necessarily engage much in the conversation unless there’s something in it to interest them.

  Ask her what the person looks like, instructs River firmly. Loran doesn’t need her to ask more more details to know what’s in her mind.

  There are lots of nobs – it doesn’t mean it’s Markus.

  But it could be! Ask her!

  Loran obliges – there’s nothing to gain from not.

  “Which nob?” he asks, leaning into his old accent again – she seems to respond better to it than the more neutral accent that was beaten into him.

  Alyna shrugs.

  “Dunno. Bit ‘o a showoff, though.”

  “Why d’ye say tha’?”

  “Didn’ come by horse, now, did he? Took some flyin’ contraption.”

  Excitement flows through Loran – not his own.

  Ask her what kind of flying contraption.

  Dutifully, he obliges River’s demand.

  Alyna shrugs again.

  “Dunno, didn’ see it. But Ridik said it was some sort o’ balloon up in the air.” She pauses for a moment, then shrugs. “But he also said it was pulled by dragons, so I think he had a bit too much ale before takin’ up the watch. Mebbe it’s a new type o’ airship.”

  It is him! River exults. She sends an image into his mind, a rather rickety contraption made of wood, bone, some shiny white fabric, hide, and who knows what else. To her credit, it does look like a massive balloon with something swinging below it. We flew in this when we returned to our village to rescue them from their attackers! Now she mentions it, Loran thinks that he remembers that story. And now he has brought it out again to rescue us!

  It’s…fairly convincing, Loran admits. The contraption isn’t something he’s ever seen before and the mention of dragons could easily be Noir and Ivor – he’d thought they were dragons at first before being corrected. He’s still not entirely sure what the difference is between alcaorises and dragons, but his companions insist that that’s what they are.

  But he can think about that later. For now, he needs to get as much information from Alyna as he can. Because if this is their master searching for them, then maybe that changes things.

  “So, this nob…” Loran starts casually. “What’d he do? Go te visit the city lord?”

  Alyna sends him a sharp look. She knows exactly what he’s doing. For a moment, she’s silent, probably weighing up the risks of speaking.

  Finally, she shakes her head.

  “Big balloon thin’ up in the sky? City lord went te him, didn’ he? And I heard tell their first stop was the courts.”

  “The courts?” Loran asks, startled. If this is his master, what business would the man have with the courts? They only dealt with crimes once the perpetrators had been caught; he wouldn’t find any information there. But then, maybe he’s not here to rescue us, a poisonous voice reminds him. Or maybe it’s not him at all.

  “Yeah. Rumour has it tha’ he caught a whole load o’ bandits and delivered them, tied up like a present.”

  “Bandits?” Loran can’t help asking, bewildered. Where do bandits fit into this?

  “Yeah.” Alyna seems to be enjoying his confusion. “Some say ten, some say fifty.” She shrugs. “With a nob, who knows? Anyway, only then did they go to the city lord’s manor. Next thin’ I know, Dexil’s comin’ out o’ a meetin’ with The Shadow all het up, like. Ordered me te check on yer enchantments, doubled the guard-” she cuts herself off, fear flashing across her face. She and Loran both know that that’s the first useful bit of information about their defences that she’s given him yet. And it marks a turning point.

  It’s an opportunity.

  Maybe Loran thought it was an impossible dream that their master might rescue them. But it seems likely that Markus is here, in this city, even if Loran doesn’t know which city.

  Actually, maybe learning that there’s a city lord was the first piece of actionable information Alyna gave him because now he knows they’re not in the middle of nowhere.

  He forces his mind back on track from where it had wandered off. If Markus is here, if he’s genuinely come to rescue them instead of just coming to visit the city lord with no idea that his followers are so close by…then it means River, Enchanter, Smith, Artemis, Catches-leaves, Iandee were all right. And if they were right about him not stopping until he does find them, then maybe he has a chance of convincing Alyna that helping them escape is in her best interests as well as his.

  “Alyna, ye now wha’ this means, righ’?” He sees her shoulders tense. “Me master is comin’. And when he does, he's gonna be angry. But if ye help us-”

  “I’ve been helpin’ ye,” Alnya snaps, but her voice is a hiss rather than a shout.

  “If ye help us escape, I’ll put in a good word fer ye. And more usefully, so will my companions. We’ll see ye get off alright. Mebbe ye won’t even owe a debt to Dexil any more – if he’s dead or collared, he can’t punish ye no more.”

  Alyna is silent. She pauses in her work and looks around at him uncertainly. He can see her wavering and silently urges her to make the choice he wants.

  here!

  here!

  here!

  here