Malone climbed down from the back of the potato wagon. “Thanks,” he said to the driver, putting his arm through one strap of his backpack and swinging it onto his back.

     “No problem,” the man replied. “You sure this is the a good idea?” He looked around dubiously. They were in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but fields all around. The road stretched endlessly both before them and behind with no side turnings. There wasn't so much as a farmer’s cottage in sight.

     “Lord Benjamin Hedley lives just over those hills, right?”

     “So they say, though I've never been closer than this. They won't welcome you, though. They wouldn't welcome a declared human unless he had plenty of gold in his pockets. They'll chase you away, maybe shoot you. Why not let me take you the rest of the way to Perdum? There's good work to be found there, even for a half raised dog man like you.”

     “I have to find my sister. I have to tell her our parents are dead."

     Malone had given this as his cover story when he'd first asked for the lift, but the farmer hadn't thought his fictional sister would be able to help him and he hadn’t changed his opinion since. “You're living in a dream world,” he said. “Maids, no matter how highly valued, have no influence with their employers. She's not going to be able to find work for you.”

     “Well, if that's the case then maybe I'll come to Perdum after, but I want to try Lord Hedley's house first. I haven’t seen her for three years, so I want to see her anyway, just to talk."

     “And you want to get to the house by walking across a cow field? An honest man would approach the house by the main drive, but then they might see you coming, right? You're not looking for a job. You want to rob the place, right?”

     Malone just stared, not knowing what to say. He thought about running away, but the farmer just shrugged. “I don’t care either way. None of my business, and I’m sure he can spare a few silver candlesticks. Just don’t get yourself killed. Okay?”

     “I'm not going to rob him,” said Malone, “but if you think I am, that doesn’t bother me. Thanks for the lift.”

     “No problem. Good luck to you then, whatever you want with him.”

     The farmer touched the rim of his hat to him, then slapped the reins. Malone watched as the cart clattered off down the road. Then he turned and began to trudge his way across the fields.

     Two hours of hard slog later he saw the mansion ahead of him, just the way he remembered. The small shack in which the prisoners had been held the last time he'd been here must be somewhere behind him, then. He was approaching the mansion from the same direction he had after murdering the government agent to prove his loyalty to the Movement. The guilt of that act still ate away at him, but killing the traitor Benjamin might help to make up for it, he hoped.

     He looked up at the sun. It was still an hour or two before nightfall. He would have to find a place to wait until after dark, until everyone was fast asleep. He looked around. There was a small barn a couple of hundred yards to his right, probably used to store seed and equipment. Keeping an eye on the mansion to make sure there was nobody about who might see him, he made his way over to it, at the same time taking the long sheathed dagger from his backpack, where he’d hidden it, and buckling it around his waist.

     The barn was padlocked, but the wood of the doorframe was rotten and the door burst open on the second kick. Inside were a couple of rusty shovels, a pile of empty sacks and a bag of grain that had spilled open, the seeds sprouting where they'd been touched by the rain coming in through a mouldy hole in the ceiling. The other half of the floor was dry, though, so he spread the sacks out to make a comfortable surface to lie on and settled down to wait. The musty smell was strangely comforting and he soon drifted off to sleep.

     When he awoke, it was completely dark. He had to feel his way back to the door, where he found stars shining overhead and the light of a gibbous moon casting its silvery glow over everything. It was quiet except for the distant hooting of an owl and the whispering of the wind through the trees that lined the horizon. Everything was still, but he still kept a careful watch as he made his way across the field to the mansion in case there was a gamekeeper or a private security guard out and about. He’d seen no sign that Benjamin had a private security force protecting his property on his last visit, but he didn't need one when he had...

     Radiants! He saw the glow, illuminating the grass ahead of him, before he saw the creature itself, drifting high up in the air behind him. He cursed himself for a fool. Of course there would be a Radiant hovering about! They had to be close to remain in telepathic contact with Benjamin. Had it seen him? If it had, then any attempt to hide would be an admission that his intentions were dishonest and it would all be over for him. There would be no escape. The only cover was the house of a man who had to know by now that he hadn't completed his last assignment, leaving his companions and the agents for the weapon merchants dead behind him. No explanation would save him. They would kill him without hesitation.

     He walked steadily, therefore. The walk of a man who was going about some legitimate business and who had absolutely no reason to fear being seen. The fact that he was walking across a field of rough grass was bad, but that couldn't be helped. He felt angry with himself. He should have anticipated this. The Brigadier would be ashamed of him.

     The glow grew brighter, telling him that the Radiant was coming closer. It might even now be telling Benjamin that there was a stranger approaching the house. The urge to run, to find some place where he could hide from its gaze, was almost overpowering, but he made himself continue to walk calmly as if he had nothing to fear. He did look over his shoulder at the Radiant, since that would have been a perfectly normal thing for him to do, and he saw that it had dropped lower, the tips of its tentacles dangling less than a hundred feet above the ground.

     It passed overhead, then drew away from him, either not seeing him or not thinking him worthy of attention, and Malone allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He watched as it continued to draw away, dreading that it might suddenly turn and come for him, or that the door of the house might open and a horde of Benjamin's men might emerge to come get him. The night remained peaceful, though, and he continued to walk, stepping over tall clumps of grass and dried cowpats until he reached the hedge that circled the house. There were plenty of gaps in it where individual bush plants had died. He picked one and pushed his way through, branches scratching at his skin and clothing.

     On the other side was a narrow grass lawn, on the other side of which was a path that ran along the mansion’s wall. He walked along it, looking for a window he could climb through. Every window was dark. There were no lights on in the house, but the moon gave enough light on that side of the house for him to see the latches holding them closed. The Brigadier had showed him once how to open such a latch with the tip of a knife, and had told him how he'd entered Fienwell's house that way. He couldn’t stop walking so long as the Radiant was still in sight above him, though. He had to make it look as though he was on his way somewhere. He kept going until he turned the corner, therefore, then stopped with his back to the wall and counted to a thousand.

     When he'd finished counting he peeped back around the corner and saw to his relief that the Radiant was gone. It must be on the other side of the house. There was no telling when it might return, though, so he moved fast, returning to one of the moonlit windows. He looked through to make sure the room on the other side was empty, then drew his knife from its sheath.

     He was interrupted by the baying of dogs, rapidly growing closer, and he froze in terror. Shit! Shitty Shit Shit! Why hadn't it occurred to him that Benjamin might have guard dogs? He tensed up to run, but stopped himself just in time. You can't run from dogs. You can't hide from dogs. They'll just smell you out. He looked back at the window, wondered if he could open it, climb through and close it again before they arrived... Too late! They were already here!

     He saw them coming around the corner of the building, twenty yards away. Large attack dogs, bred for one purpose; to attack and kill humans. The Brigadier had taught him how to fight dogs, though, and the training came back to him now as they bounded towards him, slaver flying from their gaping laws. Their backs arched with every bound. Their entire bodies flexing in their eagerness to catch their prey.

     The first thing the Brigadier had taught him was, if you have time, to lie on the ground. They're going to knock you down anyway, he remembered him saying, and while you’re falling you’re temporarily helpless, unable to fight or defend yourself. If you lie down first, therefore, you deny them that advantage. Malone just barely had enough time, and he almost fell to the ground, his pelvis hitting the paved walkway with painful force, before the first of the two dogs was upon him.

     They'll go for the throat, the Brigadier had said, so offer them your arm instead. You're going to get bitten, but you can make sure it’s where it’ll do you the least harm. He threw his arm in front of his throat, therefore, and the huge jaws clamped down on it, the teeth penetrating the leather sleeve of his jacket to shred his flesh and buckle his bones. He then raised his arm, lifting the dog’s head and exposing its throat, and stabbed with his knife as hard as he could.

     Hot blood drenched him, and he threw the dying dog aside just in time to meet the second dog's attack. A moment later they were both dead, but his left arm was useless, with blood spurting from a dozen deep lacerations, and his head was spinning as he felt the effects of the injury. His body was telling him to slink away, to find a place to hide where he could tend to his wounds, but the alarm had been raised and the house was awake. He could hear people running about, asking each other what was going on. I've got to get away, he thought. Get my arm sorted out. Come back in a couple of weeks and try again, or maybe just forget the whole idea. What was I thinking? That I could just sneak into his home undetected and murder him in his bed? Did I really think it would be that easy?

     He turned to go, but then everything got brighter and he looked up to see the Radiant returning. He swore viciously. There was nothing but open fields around the house. If he ran, the creature would catch him and either kill him or curse him. The only safety was in the house.

     The presence of the dead dogs would tell Benjamin's men where he'd been. There was no concealing how he'd gotten into the house and so he just smashed the window. He climbed through, scratching himself on shards of broken glass, and then ran through the room, into the corridor and through the first door he came across. He was dripping blood, though. Both his own and the blood of the dogs which had thoroughly soaked his clothes. It would lead them straight to him. He thought he had a few moments before they narrowed down his location, though, and he took the time to strip off his clothes and tear his shirt into a bandage that he used to bind his injured arm. Then, not dripping blood any more, he went back out into the corridor, ran a short way along it and ducked into another room. Just in time as he heard footsteps running past outside.

     “Here!” he heard a man’s voice say. “He’s in there, and bleeding bad.”

     “He killed Zeus and Apollo!” another man said. “Two stabs of a knife, just like that! He knows how to fight dogs.”

     “Won't do him any good against Sid and Dennis. Don't do anything, just wait for them to get here. That bastard ain't going nowhere.”

     They're right, thought Malone desperately. He went to the window, where he saw the Radiant hovering overhead, waiting for him to show himself. No escape that way. The only way out was the way he'd come in, where there were two men waiting for him. But they thought he was in the room where he'd left his clothes, which meant they'd have their backs to him...

     No! he thought in outrage. I've killed enough innocent men already. They're probably just a butler and a footman or something. Innocent servants who have no idea what their master's really up to. I can't kill them!

     So don’t kill them. Find some way of getting past them without killing them. If I can't find a way to do that, I don’t deserve to call myself a Helberion soldier. And do it fast, before Sid and Dennis get here! Very probably hired killers who did Benjamin's dirty work. The mansion wasn't that big, they couldn't be far away. They could be here at any moment...