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around and open the lad’s throat beneath the ear. He stepped away to protect his eyes from the blood which spattered over his side as the youth toppled to the ground.
    Weaver drew back, raising his sword to window guard: left elbow high, point forward at eye level, right side exposed, offering the next attacker an open target he couldn’t resist. The man approached more cautiously, but as he thrust for the ribs Weaver gathered the soldier’s sword, pushing it out to the side as he stepped forward and plunged his own blade into the man’s eye socket. Weaver drew back as his attacker fell, eyes already on Stanton. The courtier’s secret was out now. If he turned and ran he wouldn’t get another chance at the girl.
    Stanton’s gaze flicked towards Alwenna. He raised his sword and stepped forward over the bodies of his fallen men, his approach measured. He was subtler than the other two, trained by the best swordsmen the Peninsula could offer, but he’d taken the bait. The bodies behind him would hamper his movement. Stanton hesitated.
    Weaver assumed a high guard. “Come on, you pretty bastard. I’ve a bastard sword waiting for you.”
    Stanton moved in to the bind, attempting to wind his blade over the top. Weaver countered by going strong, pushing the point of his sword past Stanton’s face. The courtier ducked back, horror dawning in his eyes a split second before, using his opponent’s sword as a fulcrum, Weaver doubled his own blade back to slash open Stanton’s face. Stanton crumpled to the ground and Weaver followed up, pushing him onto his back with his foot before he plunged his blade through the man’s throat.
    Weaver straightened up and turned towards the women, sword still in his hand. “Open the door.”
    Alwenna took a hasty step back and her hood slipped down. She gaped at him, wild-eyed. “What?”
    “The barn door. Beside you.” She didn’t have what it took for this journey. How was he to get her all the way to Vorrahan? “Open it.” He stooped to clean his sword on Stanton’s cloak, then sheathed it before searching the courtier’s pockets.
    Wynne hurried to the door and started tugging at the rusty bolt. “My lady, help me with this.”
    Alwenna moved to Wynne’s side. “He just robbed Stanton.”
    Weaver took hold of Stanton’s corpse by the legs and dragged it towards the stable. “He has no need of it now. Open the door. We must hide these bodies.”
    The bolt jerked free and Alwenna pulled the door aside. Weaver hauled Stanton’s body feet-first into the shadows, the courtier’s head clunking over the uneven cobbles. He dropped him next to a pile of straw.
    Alwenna backed out of the way as Weaver returned for the next corpse. “I can scarce believe it. He was always so well dressed, so courteous…”
    “Vermin often have the finest pelts, my lady.” Weaver dragged the second body into the barn.
    Outside in the alley she stared at the dead youth. “That’s Lord Ellard’s squire. His mother was so proud when he came to court.”
    Weaver gave a noncommittal grunt as he unbuckled the youth’s knife belt and stowed it away inside his cloak.
    Alwenna rounded on him. “He was only eighteen. Have you no compassion?”
    “His mother should have taught him to choose his friends more wisely.” Weaver dumped the body inside with the other two, throwing straw over them before securing the door. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time.”
    Alwenna failed to respond so he took her by the elbow. She snatched her arm from his grip. “We should tell Tresilian about Stanton.”
    He could take her back up to the keep now, let her take her chance with the rest of them in the siege. And he could get on with the work he was fitted for. But he’d given his word. “He’ll find out soon enough. We have to push on – there may be others on the prowl.”
    “Others?”
    “A man as influential as Stanton won’t have been working alone.” Still she hesitated. “My lady, we must