She lifted her hands and stared at them. ‘Are we truly here? It all seems so real.’

‘I doubt it,’ Udinaas replied.

‘We can’t stay?’

‘In the world of the tiles? You tell me, Feather Witch.’

‘This isn’t the realm of your dreaming, is it?’

He grimaced to hide his amusement at the unintended meaning behind her question. ‘No. I did warn you.’

‘I have been waiting for you to say that. Only not in such a tone of regret.’

‘Expecting anger?’

She nodded.

‘I had plenty of that,’ he admitted. ‘But it went away.’

‘How? How do you make it go away?’

He met her eyes, then simply shook his head. A casual turning away, gaze once more upon the ruins. ‘This destruction, this slaughter. A terrible thing to do.’

‘Maybe they deserved it. Maybe they did something-’

‘Feather Witch, the question of what is deserved should rarely, if ever, be asked. Asking it leads to deadly judgement, and acts of unmitigated evil. Atrocity revisited in the name of justice breeds its own atrocity. We Letherii are cursed enough with righteousness, without inviting yet more.’

‘You live soft, Udinaas, in a very hard world.’

‘I told you I was not without anger.’

‘Which you bleed away, somehow, before it can hurt anyone else.’

‘So I do all the bleeding, do I?’

She nodded. ‘I’m afraid you do, Udinaas.’

He sighed and turned. ‘Let’s go back.’

Side by side, they made their way towards the waiting savages and their village of caves.

‘Would that we could understand them,’ Feather Witch said.

‘Their shaman is dead.’

‘Damn you, Udinaas!’

Into the basin, where something had changed. Four women had appeared, and with them was a young boy. Who was human.

The warrior who had spoken earlier now addressed the boy, and he replied in the same language, then looked over at Udinaas and Feather Witch. He pointed, then, with a frown, said, ‘Letherii.’

‘Do you understand me?’ Udinaas asked.

‘Some.’

‘You are Meckros?’

‘Some. Letherii Indebted. Indebted. Mother and father. They fled to live with Meckros. Live free, freedom. In freedom.’

Udinaas gestured towards the ruined city. ‘Your home?’

‘Some.’ He took the hand of one of the women attending him. ‘Here.’

‘What is your name?’

‘Rud Elalle.’

Udinaas glanced at Feather Witch. Rud meant found in the Meckros trade tongue. But, of course, he realized, she would not know that. ‘Found Elalle,’ he said in the traders’ language, ‘can you understand me better?’

The boy’s face brightened. ‘Yes! Good, yes! You are a sailor, like my father was. Yes.’

‘These people rescued you from the city?’

‘Yes. They are Bentract. Or were, whatever that means – do you know?’

He shook his head. ‘Found, were there any other survivors?’

‘No. All dead. Or dying, then dead.’

‘And how did you survive?’

‘I was playing. Then there were terrible noises, and screams, and the street lifted then broke, and my house was gone. I slid towards a big crack that was full of ice fangs. I was going to die. Like everyone else. Then I hit two legs. Standing, she was standing, as if the street was still level.’

‘She?’

‘This is traders’ tongue, isn’t it?’ Feather Witch said. ‘I’m starting to understand it – it’s what you and Hulad use when together.’

‘She was white fire,’ the boy said. ‘Tall, very very tall, and she reached down and picked me up.’ He made a gesture to mime a hand gripping the collar of his weathered shirt. ‘And she said: Oh no he won’t . Then we were walking. In the air. Floating above everything until we all arrived here. And she was swearing. Swearing and swearing.’

‘Did she say anything else, apart from swearing?’

‘She said she worked hard on this beget, and that damned legless bastard wasn’t going to ruin her plans. Not a chance, no, not a chance, and he’ll pay for this. What’s beget mean?’

‘I thought so,’ Feather Witch muttered in Letherii.

No.

‘Remarkable eyes,’ Feather Witch continued. ‘Must be hers. Yours are much darker. Duller. But that mouth…’