Annika knew nothing of woodcraft. Truthfully anything beyond the sparse palm trees and scrubby vegetation of Istkar’s vast deserts made her vaguely uncomfortable but she knew enough not to imagine that they could slip around these three without drawing attention. She was just about to give Orion the go ahead to dispose of them when she heard a familiar word amid the gutural gibberish of the Vuldrock speech. Engel. It clashed sufficiently with the Vuldrock speech to stand out. Not a word. A name. Annika held up a hand to stall her knightly companion for a moment as she tried to recall where she had heard the name before. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the rite of Idetica.

Annika sat at the captains table in the dining hall of the Farsi. The recollection was so perfect that she could taste the wine and smell the delicious aroma of roasted chicken and seasoned vegetables the chef had prepared. In the here and now her stomach growled, reminding her it had been nearly twenty four hours since she had eaten. Fasil, the dark skinned captain, a member of one of the junior lines of the al-Malik family was engaging in a spirited debate with the Charioteer.

“I tell you that Rochfort and all his advisers, Bessimer, Engel, all the rest have gone mad,” Fasil declared waving his fork to emphasise his point. The Charioteer opened his mouth to counter the assertion but Annika allowed the rite to lapse, having learned all she needed. She glanced across at Orion. They were too close to the Vuldrocks to risk even whispered speech.

[i]We need to take the talkative one alive[/i] sounded her voice in his head.