With his thumbnail, Norch made a mark on the hard-packed dirt that made up the wall to his prison. The nearby torch guttered and for a moment he sat surrounded by an inky blackness so profound he could no longer see his hand. The torch flared back to life, and he exhaled. Twelve Marks. Twelve Days. At least he thought it was twelve days. It was hard to tell here, without the sun, but he had slept and been woken twelve times.

"Psst," a voice hissed.

Norch looked back over his shoulder.

"Psssst," he heard again.

Norch rose and hurried to the front of his cell. He peered between the bars of his door.

"Hello?" he whispered.

His voice, hoarse with disuse, got swallowed by the shadows in the hall.

"Not out there. In here!" a rough voice growled at him.

Norch felt a familiar tickle in his ear and sighed. He should have known.

"What do you want?" Norch demanded.

"Oh, right to the chase, you are," the voice barked. "No manners, you lot."

Norch gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Poul' s little spies were a nuisance on a good day, but Norch knew this one well. gNar. He went back to picking at the wall.

"Oi!" gNar said. "I'm not done talking to you."

When Norch still didn't answer, gNar growled a few obscenities that would have made most folk blush. Norch barely flinched.

"Look," gNar hissed, "I'm not here for Poul, I'm here for gNat, and if you want to get out of this mess, you'll listen."

Norch paused.

"Why would gNat send you?" Norch asked. "Why would she send anyone?"

"Because she's a spy?" gNar growled. "You think we have any more choices than you do? Everything on this part of the cursed island belongs to Poul."

"Even the Crai?" Norch said.

He paused before he said, "Not them, no. We don't talk about them."

"But--" Norch said.

"Do you want to get out of here or not?" gNar interrupted gruffly.

Norch stared at the twelve marks in front of him. "What do you need me to do?"

***

"Hey!" Norch yelled into the dark. "Hey!"

He had been yelling for nearly an hour and his voice cracked with the strain.

A torch bobbed in the distance, followed by the jingling of keys and the scuff of footsteps, as one the tall folk, the aig, approached his cell. He looked a little out of breath.

"What?" He demanded, irritated.

"I want to talk to someone," Norch replied.

"You're talking to me," the aig said impatiently.

"I mean--" Norch cut off. If he told the aig he wanted to talk to someone more important, it would most likely get him off on the wrong foot.

"I want to see Poul Stitch," he said instead.

The aig looked at quizzically. "Why?"

"I want to be useful," Norch said in a way he hoped was convincing.

The aig looked skeptical.

"I've been in here for twelve days," Norch said, not having to fake the desperation in his voice. "I will do anything to get out of here, even if it means working for--"

He stopped himself, but the aig only chuckled.

"They all break eventually," he said, "but you didn't even last two weeks."

He reached behind him and dug out a set of keys.

"Come one then," he said, unlocking the door, "but mind yourself or I'll let Afie put a bolt or two in you."

Something in the shadows behind the aig stirred, and another tall man slid into the small pool of light. Without lowering his crossbow, Afie spat into the dirt at Norch's feet.

"Ah, don't mind him," the jailor said, "he's just mad he lost the bet. Thought you were made of tougher stuff."

He guffawed. "See now, I knew better. No human could last that long. No offence or nothing, just the way you're made. Name's Nerr, by the way."

Norch followed the aig with Afie trailing along behind him. He tried very hard not to think of the crossbow training on his back.

"Come on, come on," Nerr was saying. "Poul will have all our heads if she thinks we were dawdling out here."

Nerr lead them down the dark corridor, past iron doors with small square windows. Norch tried to peer past the bars for his friends, but the soft crunch of boots on dirt behind him kept him moving.

When they reached the end of the corridor, Nerr stopped to dig out his key ring again and jammed a key into the lock. He twisted and pushed. The door swung open on silent hinges. No door would dare rust on Poul's watch. Whatever else she was, Poul Stitch ran a tight operation.

They passed several more doors and corridors before reaching a room that looked out over the gardens in the cliff walls outside.

"Stay here," Nerr said, and left the room through a door on the opposite wall.

Norch did his best not to look at Afie, but the back of his neck prickled with the thought of him. The minutes ticked by slowly before Nerr returned with another aig.

"Erna will take you to Poul," Nerr said. "She's expecting you."

Erna it turned out, was less talkative than Nerr. She led Norch outside and along the steep pathways built into the walls of the canyon with Afie trailing behind crossbow in hand. Norch looked over the edge of the pathway once and retreated quickly back again. He wasn't afraid of heights, but it was an awfully long way down, with only a few tomato plants to catch him if he slipped.

They continued upward for what felt like miles until they reached a ladder hanging from the bottom of an overhang.

"Up you go," Erna said, stepping aside to let him pass.

Norch frowned and looked up. There was a hatch in the rock overhead. Conscious of Afie still behind him, Norch grasped the ladder with both hands and climbed. When he reached the hatch, he raised one hand and politely knocked. There was a grinding sound overhead, and the hatched lifted. Norch reached for the ledge to heft himself up over it but a strong pair of hands grabbed him by the arms and easily lifted him inside.

"Help," a recognisable voice growled as the hands released Norch.

Norch couldn't help but smile. It felt good to see a familiar face, even Fleck's.

"Yes," he agreed. "Help. Thank you."

Afie climbed up behind him, but not Erna. The hatch ground back over the opening sealing them in. The room Norch found himself in was carved from the same rock as the canyon below them, a long wall of large windows chiselled out of the outside wall let the late evening sun shine through, filling the room with red light. Norch had to squint. After 12 days in near dark, the light stung his eyes.

Poul's squat figure stood in front of one window, looking out.

"Come here, dear," she said, without turning. "There's something I want you to see."

Norch stepped forward to join her.

She waved her hand in front of her, indicating the view below them.

"All this," she said, "belongs to Ya Na the Mighty."

Norch looked out the window and into the canyon below. It was like a world set to flame, the last few lingering rays of orange and crimson sunlight painting the rust-coloured sand with strokes of fire. Norch had seen nothing like it.

"It's stunning," Norch said, a bit awed.

"You could be a part of this," Poul said.

She turned to look at him, hard blue eyes betraying her smile.

Norch swallowed his pride. "I, uh, would like the opportunity to become a contributing member of your team."

Poul beamed at him, all her teeth on display.

"Wonderful!" she said. "Oh, just wonderful. Come here, dear. I just have to hug you."

Norch stood in horrified stillness while she clasped her arms around him.

After a long, awkward moment, she released him.

"Oh, I'm so glad," she said. "I knew you would see things our way, given the proper incentive."

Norch forced a smile. The memory of his dark cell was too fresh to provide anything stronger than a weak twitch of his lips.

"Now," Poul said, "let's just put all that earlier unpleasantness behind us and start fresh! Come, I want to introduce you to Ya Na. He's just going to love you!"

She led the way across the room to another door and pushed it open. Norch followed behind her.

In the center of this room, stood a large stone chair. Of a piece with the room, it looked like it had grown from the floor below it. Upon it sat an old and withered Bahss covered from tip to toe in white fur with an iron crown upon his head. The crown hung crooked, with one side dipping down in front of his left eye. A drop of drool fell from his lips and disappeared into the frost covered fur of his bony chest.

"This," Poul said, reaching out to straighten the crown, "is Ya Na the Mighty."