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Nastria?’ Huros frowned. The thought of her sent a jolt through him. She’d given him a bottle of something strange, and he hadn’t even looked at it. He was supposed to tell her what it was.
    ‘If that’s what her name is.’
    The tall one belched loudly. ‘That’s the one. I’m Sollos. This is my cousin, Kemir. Since you’re not the Scales, you must be the alchemist.’
    ‘Huros,’ said Huros.
    ‘Well then, Huros the alchemist, make yourself useful. There’s half a ton of luggage down there by the river. We’d quite like to move it up into the trees before the heavy brigade come back.’ The sell-sword made a rude gesture towards the rider who was still standing over the Scales, waving his arms and shouting. ‘I don’t imagine he’ll be much help.’
    ‘That was pretty good, though.’ The short one grinned again. Kemir. ‘The white one forgot she had a rider for a moment there. If he’d been any slower jumping clear when she rolled . . .’ He drew his finger across his throat. ‘Pity, really. I would have pissed myself. Still, we don’t want all our luggage crushed, do we.’
    Huros shook himself. Words , he reminded himself. He was going to have words with someone. And these two were very rude. And he was Master Huros, thank you very much. They looked a bit big, though. And armed. He bit his tongue. ‘Um. Of course. Although . . . Excuse me, but where have the rest of the dragons gone, exactly?’
    ‘Their riders have taken them hunting,’ said the tall one. Sollos. He gave Huros a pitying look and shook his head.
    ‘For food,’ added Kemir. Yes. When the knights came back, Huros would have words about these two as well. What are they even doing here?
    ‘Can’t have them getting hungry. Never know, they might set their minds to snacking on alchemists.’ The two sell-swords were leering and shaking their heads. Every day Huros spent at least some of his time with ravenous monsters who could swallow him in a blink, kept only in check by their training and by the subtle potions that he dripped into their drinking troughs. These two, though, made him far more nervous that any dragon ever had.
    ‘Um. Clearly. I meant the other ones. The rest of them. Where’s the queen?’
    The sell-swords looked at each other and shrugged. ‘Keep an eye on the Scales,’ said Sollos. ‘That’s what we were told. We keep an eye on the riders too. In case any of them get any bad ideas about stealing the queen’s dragons.’ He grinned and stuck out his bottom lip. ‘Where the rest of them went . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t know, don’t care. A clever man might hazard a guess that they flew off to the Adamantine Palace, just like they were supposed to. But you’re an alchemist, so I suppose that must mean you’re a clever man, and you’d already thought of that.’
    ‘Well . . . But why . . . why didn’t we?’
    The tall one sniggered. ‘I don’t know. Maybe some unsettling news came of late. Maybe your queen doesn’t trust your speaker further than she could throw him. I hear he’s grown quite large of late. Or maybe we don’t know shit.’ The sell-swords looked at each other again.
    ‘Did anyone say anything about keeping an eye on alchemists?’ asked the short one. The tall one shook his head. Sollos, Huros reminded himself again. His name was Sollos. He seemed to be the one in charge.
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘No, I didn’t think so either.’
    Sollos smiled what was possibly the most menacing smile Huros had ever seen. ‘We’re just sell-swords. We do as we’re told and go where we’re sent. No one gives us reasons, and we don’t ask for them. Why don’t you bother that rider over there, once he’s finished laying into your Scales. I’m sure he’ll know more than us. As long as you don’t expect him to help with the luggage. In the meantime do you think you might help us? I believe some of it could be yours.’
    The short one nodded sagely. ‘It’s the stuff at the