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There stands Makri, sword in hand.
    “Let him go,” she snarls.
    Hanama laughs, a thin, humourless Assassin’s laugh.
    “Nice bikini,” she says, mockingly, and in one swift movement draws a short sword and drops into a fighting crouch. Hanama’s small, thin figure is exaggerated by her featureless black clothes, making her appear almost childlike. I wonder if Makri realises how deadly she is. I ready myself to spring to her aid. Suddenly the outside door crashes open. Men pound into the office and on into my inner room. Makri and Hanama whirl round to face the intruders. I leap from the bed and grab my sword. There’s no time to think and little room to move as a horde of savage sword-wielding thugs threaten to sweep us away by sheer force of numbers. A massive man waves an equally massive scimitar at me. I avoid it nimbly and stick my knife into his heart. My next assailant slams a hatchet towards my head. I dodge the blow, kick him in the knee and slash my knife through his throat. I’m good at this sort of thing. So are Makri and Hanama. We drive our attackers back into the next room, then Makri leaps after them impetuously, followed by Hanama and me.
    In the larger space of my office we find ourselves at a disadvantage. More attackers are pouring in from outside and they start to encircle us. There’s little time to think, though I get a brief glimpse of Makri scything two men down with one blow and flying over a low slash aimed by another to smash her boot into his face. I parry another blow but before I can counter-thrust my senses start going haywire. I detect magic, powerful magic, very close. I gain an impression of a large, cloaked figure in the doorway, one arm raised, before there’s a violent flash and I’m thrown back against the wall along with Makri and Hanama. The three of us lie there, gasping and bleeding. I don’t know what the spell was but it was pretty effective.
    “Kill them,” says the Sorcerer, entering the room.
    Suddenly Gurd, roused by the commotion, hurtles into the office with his axe above his head. Two men fall dead before they can scream. I drag myself to my feet as Gurd disappears into a maelstrom of blades and bodies. The interruption allows Makri and Hanama the few seconds they need to recover. A knife flashes out of Hanama’s palm, transfixing one man, while she deftly stabs another in the back. Makri hacks her way through to Gurd. I do likewise. Our savage attack begins to carry the day and our attackers start to crumble. One more push should do it. My senses go haywire again and I realise we’re in for another sorcerous attack. Damn all Sorcerers.
    It’s interrupted by the shrill screech of whistles in the alley below. The Civil Guard has arrived. There’s confusion as our attackers fight their way down the stairs to make their escape. I don’t bother to pursue them. I can hardly stand upright. The exertion of the battle and the effects of the spell have really drained me. Also, I have a hangover.
    “What was that about?” demands Gurd, as Civil Guards pile into the room.
    I shake my head numbly. I don’t know. I look round to check on my companions. Makri is fine, calmly wiping blood from her swords on to the clothes of one of our many dead opponents. Of Hanama there is no sign. She’s slipped out in the confusion.
    “What was that about?” echoes Captain Rallee.
    “No idea,” I pant. “But I’m sure pleased to see you.”
    “We had them beat anyway,” says Makri, dismissively.
    Makri fights with a sword in each hand, or a sword in one and an axe in the other. It’s an unusual technique, almost unknown in Turai, and her mastery of the skill makes her pretty much invulnerable against your run-of-the-mill street fighter.
    “Look, Captain,” cries one of the Guardsmen, holding up the arm of one of the bodies and pointing to a tattoo. The Captain crosses over to examine it. Two clasped hands.
    “Society of Friends,” he says. “What have you done to