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no strength in him. He took every step as if it was a massive struggle.
    Erian snatched an unlit torch off the wall and held it up like a club. “Don’t come near me!” His voice sounded high-pitched and strangled.
    Arenadd didn’t look like a rampaging predator any more. His back was hunched, as if some huge weight pressed down on him. He looked like an old, sick man. “Come—back—here, you little rat,” he gritted out.
    Erian’s courage rose. “Come and get me yourself, blackrobe!”
    Arenadd let out a yell of frustration. Abruptly, he turned away and ran out, leaving Erian to collapse against the wall, overwhelmed by exhaustion and fright, thanking Gryphus for his strange salvation.
     
     
    A renadd stumbled out into the open, swearing. The pain still burned in him; he retched a few times, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up. He leant on a post to try to catch his breath, looking back now at the building his enemy had escaped into. He didn’t really need to look. Only one thing could do this to him.
    A shout made him turn back sharply.
    The guards had found him. At least ten of them stood there in a line, armoured in leather. They carried swords and spears. And chains.
    Arenadd straightened up. “Oh no.”
    “Get him!” a voice yelled from behind him. “Kill him!”
    Arenadd glanced back and saw the Bastard watching him from the doorway that had saved him.
    The guards advanced. “Hold up yer hands,” one said. “Come quietly.”
    Arenadd could feel the sweat running down his back. “No,” he said. “You won’t take me. Never again.”
    He searched for a way to escape. But there was nothing. They had him surrounded. His new strength had gone. The chains . . .
    An awful calm came over him. Use the shadows, the Night God’s voice whispered. Use the shadows, Dark Lord .
    He stood tall, snarling defiance. “You’ll never catch me. Nobody will ever catch Arenadd Taranisäii again.” He turned quickly, edging along the wall. He could feel the shadows at its base, could almost smell them. They beckoned to him, promising safety. They were his now. Before he let them take him, he saw Erian one last time, appearing through the door to see him go. “Remember my face, Bastard!” Arenadd shouted to him. “It’s the last thing you’ll ever see.”
    Then the shadows swallowed him.

4
     
    Reunion
     
    A t first, it seemed ridiculous to think that the shadows could possibly hide him. But they did. Acting on instinct, he flattened himself to the ground, tucking himself into the dark patch by the base of the wall. The moment he did, a wonderful sense of strength and calm came over him. He looked up at the guards and saw them through a dark veil. They didn’t seem to be able to see him at all. He saw several of them staring straight at him, blank faced with confusion.
    Snickering softly, he wriggled along through the shadow, turned a corner and ran silently off into the city.
    After that, his escape was easy. Wall to wall, shadow to shadow, slipping past people, both Northerner and Southerner alike, unseen. Dark and terrible joy went with him. At last! He was free, and he was safe. They would never catch him now.
    Mentally, he gave thanks and praise to the Night God. She had told him the truth. Accepting her had been so simple, and the rewards were already so great. If only he had seen it before. If only he had let her into his heart all those long months ago when his troubles had begun. But now he knew what her blessing could do, he vowed that he would never doubt her again. And he would never disobey. She was his master now, and he was glad.
    As he passed through the market district, he took the opportunity to steal a knife from a butcher’s belt. The weapon felt good in his uninjured hand.
    He reached the city’s outer wall and followed it, searching for a way out. The huge main gates were no use: they were closed and guarded. He paused by them, hidden in a shadow, and considered his options.