“There it is.” Esea pointed down the crowded street.

The sign on the front of the tavern said Ninefingers. It was a three-storey building of soot-stained yellow brick, like all the other buildings in the street. The decorative arches around the front door and the windows were dark blue brickwork, save for the keystones, which were red-black haematite and carved with fiends’ faces – pinched, sharp-nosed and pointy-chinned. Cunning-eyed, Hingis thought.

Esea had not mentioned his betrayal again, but it was not over. His reaction to her maimed foot had shattered her and he did not think anything would ever make up for it.

He despised himself. His disfigurement did not matter to her; indeed, it had brought them closer. So why did her small imperfection matter so much to him? He could not say; it just did. What a shabby person he was.

“You sure this is the place?” he said, clinging to the saddle horn with both hands. They had ridden non-stop for the past sixteen hours and every twisted bone ached, every muscle.

“Sith isn’t so big a city that there are likely to be two Ninefingers.”

She dismounted with a thump, staggered a couple of steps and turned to him.

“Go and make sure,” he said, laying his head on his horse’s neck. “Once I’m down, I’ll never get up again.”

She looped the horses’ reins over the rail and limped up three slate-topped steps, across a wide porch whose well-scrubbed brown boards creaked, and inside. Hingis’s horse dipped its head to drink from the mossy water trough. He clung on, capable of only three thoughts: hot bath, warm bed, endless sleep.

After some minutes Esea came out, followed by an immensely tall and strongly built woman in her early twenties whose skin was as black as anthracite. Without a word, she plucked Hingis out of the saddle.

“I can walk!” he cried, mortified.

Cradling him in one arm as though he weighed no more than a child, she unfastened his saddlebags and carried everything inside.

The bar was almost empty, it being mid-morning. A couple of old women sat in a corner, playing a game with dice and a circular board. A huge man stood behind the bar, stacking mugs on a shelf. He was middle-aged, his hair greying, a strong body thickening in the middle. It was clear that he was the young woman’s father.

He jerked his head at her. “Put him down, girl. That’s no way to treat a gentleman.”

She flushed and set Hingis on his feet. He staggered. She steadied him. Hingis looked up into her eyes, expecting to see the usual revulsion, or at best pity. He saw only kindly concern.

“Thank you,” he said, studying her more closely. She had a strong, handsome face and soft eyes – hazel, striking in her dark face – that seemed to be hiding something. She went out.

The huge man came out from behind the bar, wincing as he walked. “I’m Osseion.” His voice was deep, rumbling, cheerful.

“Hingis,” said Hingis. “And my twin, Esea.”

“We’ve already introduced ourselves.”

Osseion held out a four-fingered hand and Hingis shook it. Osseion’s finger joints were swollen.

“Arthritis,” he said. “I’ll never wield a sword again. Could be awkward… considering.”

“You were Mendark’s personal bodyguard,” said Hingis. “You’re in the Histories.”

“Doesn’t bring customers through the door.” Osseion surveyed the almost empty room. “Come out the back.”

They followed him down a narrow hall, around a corner and into a small square room where coal smouldered in a tiny iron grate. The room was pleasantly warm, though stuffy, and had the tang of coal smoke and sulphur. The single window was curtained. A pine table by the window was surrounded by four chairs, their worn seat covers embroidered by a child’s hand.

Osseion helped Hingis into a chair and went out. He sighed as the weight came off his feet and his warped bones shifted and settled. Esea stood with her back to the fire, rocking on her right foot. Her left foot rested lightly on the floor. It must be very painful. He shuddered, leaned back and closed his eyes. The daughter came in carrying a laden tray.

“I’m Hingis,” he said, holding out his bony hand.

She smiled and shook his hand rather timidly. Her hand was much bigger than his, and callused across the palm and fingers.

“Ussarine,” she said quietly, pronouncing it Oos-sar-een.

“And this is my twin sister, Esea.”

Esea nodded stiffly but did not extend her hand. What was the matter?

Ussarine set the table, put bowls of soup in front of Hingis and Esea and a platter of bread, butter and cheese in the middle. Hingis salivated.

“You practise with a sword,” he said to Ussarine.

“Every day since I was two,” said Ussarine. “And other weapons too. How did you know?”

“From your calluses,” said Osseion as he came through the door with four mugs of black beer. He put them on the table and sat down.

Ussarine stood there for a moment, awkwardly, then turned to go.

“Sit down, girl,” said Osseion.

“I’m not sure…” said Esea warningly.

“We know why you’re here,” said Osseion. “Tallia sent word.”

“Where is she?” said Hingis. “I need to contact her urgently.” To advise her that he’d betrayed his word and given the enemy the code to the spell vault.

“No idea. She said to send any messages to Chanthed, but she may not get there for a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks!” cried Esea.

Snoat would surely have plundered the spell vault by then, and he would be unstoppable. Hingis wished he had died on that toxic hilltop.

“I can make your arrangements but I don’t go out much – arthritis has me buggered. Ussarine will look after you and there’s no better guard in all Meldorin.” Osseion’s voice rang with pride. “I’ve taught her all about weaponry, and when she was younger Tallia taught Ussarine everything she knows about unarmed combat – which is everything. Ussarine also holds the rank of captain in the Sith militia.”

Ussarine sat at the far end of the table and took hold of her mug but did not drink. Esea did not look happy. She drew the bowl towards her and began to eat.

“What’s happening up north?” said Hingis.

“Snoat’s forces are moving slowly south and west from Thurkad,” said Osseion. “There’s no opposition worth a damn and the roads are full of refugees.”

Hingis took a morsel of bread and butter. “You know about the Merdrun?”

“We’re facing an invasion from the void, a martial race that even the Charon feared, and Snoat’s chaos is preparing the way for them,” said Osseion. “We have to get rid of him but first we need an army.”

“Assuming we can fund it,” said Esea.

“Sith’s merchants are raising money. But what you need is fighting men –” he glanced at his daughter “– and women.”

Ussarine caught Hingis’s eyes on her and looked down at the table. Was her father’s reputation too much to live up to, or did she think he would sooner have had a son?

“But that can wait,” added Osseion. “When you’ve eaten, your baths will be ready, and your beds. We’ll talk further in the morning.”

He drained his mug and went out. Ussarine followed, carrying her untasted beer.

Esea closed the door, then said quietly, “I’m not happy with her being involved.”

Hingis ate some soup. “Why not?”

“We don’t know anything about her.”

“If we can’t trust people who come highly recommended, we’ll never get anything done.”

“You didn’t trust the one person in the world who would never let you down, then blabbed Tallia’s secret at my first squeak.”

“Scorbic Vyl wasn’t going to stop with your toes.”

“You should have kept your mouth shut,” said Esea.

“Would you, if he’d been cutting bits off me?”

She did not reply.

“Esea, I’m exhausted and every bone aches.”

Hingis rose unsteadily. Esea’s face was pale save for a red flush on each cheek. He went out and Ussarine showed him to his room, where a steaming bath was waiting. He undressed and slid into the blissfully hot water, scrubbed himself with thyme-scented soap, and for the first time in days he was not in pain. He lay back and closed his eyes, allowing the heat to ease his cares.

Now drowsy, he got into bed, but the pain grew and the further he reached towards blessed sleep the further it retreated. Shortly there was a knock on the door. Esea, he assumed. They had never been estranged this long before, and he relied on her as much as she did on him. He had to undo the damage.

“Come in,” he said.

But it was Ussarine carrying a small jug of oil and a towel. She entered, leaving the door half open.

“Father sent me,” she said, lowering her eyes. “He thought your back might need a rub.”

“It’s all right.” Hingis did not like anyone seeing his sad, twisted body. He sat up, and such a spasm passed through him that a groan escaped.

“Father said to insist. If you would just turn over…”

The muscles in his back were like knotted tree roots. Hingis did not have the strength to resist.

She warmed some oil in her hands and set to work. Her fingers were immensely strong, yet she knew exactly where to press hard and where to be gentle. Within a minute he felt the tension leaving him and the pains in his distorted frame easing. He surrendered himself to the power of her hands.

“Hingis?” Esea said from outside the door. “Are you awake?”

She pushed the door open, came in and froze, looking from Hingis to Ussarine, then back to him. Her beautiful face warped. Ussarine, absorbed in her work, took a while to realise Esea was there. She started, her fingertips gouging into Hingis’s back. They stared at one another, Esea in fury, Ussarine in puzzlement, which was slowly replaced by a mortified flush.

Esea turned and went out without a word, then slammed her own door so furiously that it shook the upper floor of Ninefingers.

“I’m so sorry,” Ussarine said in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean to come between you and your twin.”

“It’s all right,” said Hingis. “Thank you. My back feels better than it has in years.”

She nodded distractedly, picked up the oil and the towel and went out, pulling the door closed behind her. Hingis sat up. His back was utterly pain-free and it wasn’t the only thing to wonder about. Ussarine did not appear to see him as a monster. She had simply treated him like another human being, and this gave him the most inexpressible joy.

But it had made things even worse with Esea.

Hingis had made no progress with Esea, who rebuffed him every time he opened his mouth. He ached for the loss of her.

“Sorry it’s taking so long,” said Osseion after they had been in Sith for five days with little to show for it. They were at the back of the empty barroom by the fire. “With Snoat’s forces heading our way, most of the people I need to talk to have gone into hiding.”

“Sith’s walls are strong,” said Esea. “Surely it’s not in immediate danger?”

“We’re a city state on an island in a river and we rely on trade; we can’t even feed ourselves. But if war comes to the south, there won’t be any trade.”

“What have you got for us?”

“Half a dozen experienced officers. Good leaders, all of them, and they’ll know where to find the troops you need.”

“Are they reliable?”

“Used to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I knew them well in the old days. Ussarine will take you to meet them tomorrow.” He went out.

Esea was scowling. “That woman!”

“Why have you taken such a set against her? She’s quiet, polite, reliable —”

“You know why!” she hissed.

He did but wanted to hear her say it. “Tell me.”

“She wants to take you away from me.”

“Rubbish. She’s just a kind person.”

“Who was rubbing your naked body when I came in the other day.”

“She was massaging my aching back,” he said coldly, “with the door open. Ussarine has no interest in me… that way.”

“You want her though, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a hideous little wreck that no woman would look twice at.”

“You want a permanent bond, a soulmate. Where will that leave me?”

The door opened and Ussarine came in carrying a laden breakfast tray in one hand. She put down plates of steaming porridge laden with green mussels, crisp fried blackfish with yellow mushrooms and a large pot of red tea.

Hingis studied her surreptitiously. There was nothing meagre about Ussarine’s figure: though she was huge, all was in proportion. Her face was not pretty, but neither was it plain, and it was kindly. Besides, compared to him she was an extraordinary beauty.

Esea wore a sour smile. You see.

Ussarine went out. She had a long vigorous stride; her hips oscillated as she walked and her trousers stretched across taut, splendid buttocks. Hingis swallowed and looked away.

Esea dug him in the ribs, smirking. He devoted himself to his mussel porridge, flushing. He wasn’t naïve; Ussarine was simply being nice because that’s the kind of person she was. And perhaps because Hingis, having no expectations, was not intimidated by her size and her mastery of the warrior’s arts.

He had also noticed how lacking in confidence she was, despite being bigger and stronger than most men and a more accomplished fighter. Or did her lack of confidence come from precisely those things?

When she came back for the empty plates, to his own surprise he found himself asking if she would like to have dinner with him that evening. She looked down at him in surprise, and for a moment he thought she was going so refuse, or mock him as so many women had before he’d learned to avoid such humiliations. Then a shy little smile grew until it transformed her whole face.

“I’d love to,” said Ussarine. “I’ll be free at seven.”

He was heading to his room when he saw the expression on Esea’s face. She was furious. But what could she do?

“You’re what?” he cried when Esea told him at breakfast the following morning.

“Going to the meeting in Chanthed. Right away.”

“But we’ve got work to do here.”

“It doesn’t need both of us.”

“Why so suddenly? The council isn’t until the week after next.”

“It’s at least a ten-day trip from here.”

“But I…” He almost said, I need you. Perhaps it would have turned out better if he had, but he was also thinking that the separation would do them both good. And, selfishly, that it would make it easier for him to spend time with Ussarine. They’d had a most pleasant dinner last night. He had quite forgotten that he was a hideous cripple.

“Yes?” she said eagerly.

“Nothing. If you feel you must go, that’s all there is to it. Though I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

A spasm struck him in the chest. “You know you’re on Snoat’s death list.”

“So are you. Besides, I’ll be going via the back ways.”

“You don’t know the back ways to Chanthed from here.”

After a pause, she said, “My bodyguard does.”

It fell into the silence like a hammer against a bell.

“What bodyguard?” A fist closed around his kidneys and squeezed until he was hard pressed not to scream.

Esea’s smile was vengeful, malicious. “I talked Osseion into sending Ussarine with me.”