‘They are,’ said Miriel.
‘Good.’ He unlocked the cell door and the glowering Angel stepped into the room. One eye was blackened and half-closed, and his lower lip was split.
‘I’d say it was an improvement,’ said Senta.
Angel pushed past him, striding out into the sunlight. Belash was waiting, his dark eyes inscrutable.
‘Don’t say a word!’ warned Angel, snatching the reins of his mount from the tethering post and climbing into the saddle. Miriel and Senta emerged into the sunlight, the master-at-arms behind them.
‘Straight out, no stopping,’ repeated the soldier.
Miriel swung into the saddle and led the group down to the gate-tunnel below the fifth wall. Sentries examined the passes Miriel had obtained and waved them through, across the open ground to the next tunnel, and the next. At last they rode out into the pass itself.
Senta moved his horse alongside Angel’s mount. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Why don’t you go …” He closed his mouth on the words as Miriel reined back, swinging her horse alongside.
‘What happened, Angel?’ she asked.
‘Why don’t you read my mind and find out?’ he snapped.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You and Senta are right – it is bad manners. I’ll not do it again, I promise. So tell me how the fight started.’
‘It was just a fight,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘Nothing to tell.’
Miriel turned to Belash. ‘You were there?’
The Nadir nodded. ‘A man asked old Hard-to-Kill what it is like to have a face that a cow has trampled on.’
‘Yes? And then?’
‘He said, “Like this!” Then he broke the man’s nose.’ Belash mimicked the blow, a straight left.
Senta’s laughter pealed out, echoing in the pass. ‘It is not something to laugh at,’ insisted Miriel. ‘One man with a broken nose and jaw, two others with broken arms. One even fractured his leg.’
‘That was the man he threw out of the window,’ said Belash. ‘And it was not even open.’
‘Why were you so angry?’ Miriel asked Angel. ‘Back at the cabin you were always so … so controlled.’
He relaxed and sat slumped in the saddle. ‘That was then,’ he told her, touching his heels to the gelding and riding ahead.
Senta glanced at Miriel. ‘You don’t see a great deal without your Talent, do you?’ he observed, urging his horse into a canter and coming alongside Angel once more.
‘What now?’ asked the gladiator.
‘You took out six men with your bare hands. That’s impressive, Angel.’
‘Is there a joke coming?’
‘No. I’m sorry I missed the fight.’
‘It wasn’t much. A bunch of town-dwellers. Not a single muscle in sight.’
‘I’m glad you decided to stay with us. I’d have missed your company.’
‘I’d not miss yours, boy.’
‘Oh yes, you would. Tell me, how long have you been in love with her?’
‘What kind of a stupid question is that?’ stormed Angel. ‘I’m not in love. Shemak’s balls, Senta, look at me! I’m almost as old as her father and my face would curdle milk. No, she’ll be better off with a younger man. Even you, may my tongue turn black for saying it.’
Senta was about to speak when he saw a rider emerging from the rocks to the left. It was a young Nadir woman with jet-black hair, wearing a goatskin tunic and tan leggings. Belash galloped past them and leapt from the saddle. The woman dismounted and embraced him. Miriel, Senta and Angel sat their mounts quietly as the two Nadir conversed in their own tongue. Then Belash led the girl to the waiting trio.
‘This is Shia, my sister. She was sent to find me,’ he told them.
‘It is good to meet you,’ said Senta.
‘Why? You do not know me.’
‘It is a traditional greeting,’ he explained.
‘Ah. What is the traditional response?’
“That depends on the circumstances,’ said Senta. ‘And this is Miriel.’ Shia glanced at the tall mountain woman, seeing the knives on the black baldric and the sabre at her side.
‘What a strange people,’ she said. ‘Men who live like women and women who arm themselves like men. Truly it is beyond understanding.’
‘And this is Angel.’