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 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 be all over for him. There would be no escaping, 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, 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 arching 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 of? 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 remaining in the frame, 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. This bastard ain't going anywhere!”

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...

He didn't waste a moment longer, therefore, but opened the door again and lunged through. As he'd expected, the two men had their backs to him, watching the door that had smears of his blood all over it. Servants, butlers or something, wearing stripy nightshirts and nightcaps and with bare feet. He hit the nearest as hard as he could on the back of the head with the hilt of his knife and the other man gave a cry or surprise and alarm, stumbling back away from him. Malone decided he wasn't a threat and ignored him, running away from him down the corridor towards the central part of the mansion. There was a lot of movement ahead of him, some very close. A maid in a nightdress suddenly appeared, screamed and disappeared through a door.

“A dog man!” He heard someone saying behind him. “A bloody half raised dog! Not a human at all! Completely savage! He went that way!”

Malone had been in the Brigadier's mansion enough times to know how they were laid out, and he headed towards where he expected the stairs up to the main family bedrooms to be. In his heart of hearts, though, he'd given up any hope of being able to accomplish his mission. It was all going wrong! His plan had been to sneak around the house while everyone was asleep. Kill Benjamin in his sleep and escape before anyone knew he'd even been there. They would wake up in the morning, be shocked when they discovered the killing...

Now, though, the whole house was awake, and there were no doubt at least two, possibly more, trained killers between him and Benjamin. And even if he got past them, Benjamin himself was the most dangerous of all. As an adoptee, he almost certainly had the ability to cast curses, and most nobleman were trained in the use of duelling weapons as well. Malone was as good as dead!

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Every soldier knew they might find themselves in this situation sooner or later. He knew exactly what the a Brigadier would do if he were here instead of him. His face would show not the slightest change of expression. He would simply ready himself to sell his life as dearly as possible. Very well, that’s what he would do. There would be no more butlers and maids ahead of him, he knew, and nothing he’d seen or heard suggested that Benjamin had other family members living with him. If he continued on towards the family bedrooms he would find himself facing trained killers. Benjamin's goons and bodyguards. That was good, it meant he could just kill everyone he came across until one of them killed him. He took a tighter grip of his knife, therefore, and took another deep breath before continuing on his way.

His left arm was throbbing painfully, he tried to ignore it. Ahead was a flight of stairs, and standing half way up was a man he recognised. Dennis Wilks, one of the men who’d accompanied him when John Martin had brought him to meet Benjamin the first time. He'd been John Martin's henchman then. Now that John Martin had been taken to be adopted, Dennis Wilks had evidently been hired by Benjamin.

The way to survive a fight, the Brigadier had always said, was by fighting, but attacking Dennis would be suicide. The man had a pistol in his hand and, being up the stairs, had the benefit of the high ground. Malone had to make Dennis come to him! He allowed himself to be seen, therefore, then skidded to a halt, his bare feet slipping on the varnished wooden floor. Then he ran back the way he’d come. There was a gunshot and Malone felt the bullet parting his hair as it zipped past his head. “There he is! Heading for the east sitting room!” Malone heard thumping footsteps on the stairs as the man pounded after him.

In a battle between a man with a gun and a man with a knife, the gunman would always win if they were separated by more than four feet, but if they were closer than that, the knifeman had the advantage. Malone had to draw him in close, therefore. He ducked into the first room he came to, a room that seemed to be filled only with shelves on which finely decorated porcelain plates were standing, and hid behind the door. If Dennis Wilks was lacking enough in discipline to just come running in...

He wasn't. Dennis came to a stop just outside the door, and a moment later he heard another man join him. Sid, he presumed. “He's in there?”

“Yep. Just waiting for us to go running in, straight onto his knife.” He raised his voice. “That right, mate? You think we're that stupid? Why don’t you come on out and save His Lorsdship the trouble of calling in his ‘special friend’?”

He’s talking about the Radiant, Malone realised. Human wizards needed physical contact to use their ontological abilities, but the Radiant could curse him from outside the building, an attack against which there was no defence and from which there was no hope of escape. It wouldn't even need to curse him all the way back to the small dog from which he'd been raised. It could curse him just half way back, leaving him human enough to answer questions but with hands that lacked the dexterity to hold a knife. Malone felt cold sweat breaking out across his body as terror gripped him. For the past five years since his parents died, every scrap of humanity he'd gained from the Brigadier had been a victory, a triumph that had thrilled and delighted him. Full humanity had been a dream that lay like a golden prize on the horizon. Far, far away, an impossible distance, but which he’d dreamed of maybe being able to achieve one day. The idea of all that he’d gained being stripped away from him...

He began to tremble. His hand grew so sweaty that the knife grew slippery in his grip. He felt blind panic closing in on him, like a huge wolf stalking him in the darkness. He saw a glow coming in through the window, and spun around to see the dangling tentacles of the Radiant just inches from the glass. His legs grew weak under him, he had to steady himself against the wall to keep from falling. He knew he was just moments away from begging, from throwing away his pride and dignity in an attempt to save his humanity...

He reached for his pride like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. There were two armed men just outside the door. If he rushed them, they’d kill him, but he'd die with his humanity intact and maybe he'd be able to kill one of them first. It wouldn’t be the same kind of victory as killing Benjamin would have been, but it would be something. A much better, much cleaner way to die! There was no knowing how long he had before the Radiant struck, so he braced himself, rubbed the sweat from the palms of his hands so he could grip the knife properly, and prepared to launch himself in an all out attack.

“You've got him?” said a new voice, and to Malone’s astonishment and excitement it was a voice he recognised. Benjamin! He halted, therefore, and waited. Maybe his chance would still come!

“He's in there,” replied Dennis. “In the plate room.”

“The crockery room, if you please, Mister Wilks. Very well, let's see who it is.” Malone heard footsteps approaching and stop just behind the two bodyguards. “Hello, there,” he heard. “Welcome to my house. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you're doing here?”

Play for time, Malone thought. If I can keep him talking, maybe he'll make a mistake. It was a thin hope, he knew, but it was the only hope he had. He also knew they'd recognise him the moment they got a proper look at him, so there was no point in lying.

“My name is Malone,” he said, therefore. “We've met before. I came here with John Martin.”

“Of course!” said Dennis Wilks. “I thought I recognised him! John's dog man! His new deputy! Seems you were right to have doubts about him, My Lord.”

“Indeed. Are you here to kill me, Malone?”

“That was the idea,” Malone admitted. “You’re trying to bring down the Empire. I wanted to stop you.”

Benjamin laughed. “And you thought killing me would save the Empire? I'm afraid things have gone too far for that, my friend. It's gone beyond the point where the death of one man will make any difference, one way or the other. Why don’t you come out of there so we can talk about it like civilised people?”

“The moment I step out, they'll shoot me!”

“No they won't. They'll only shoot you in self defence. Throw your weapon out, then come out with your hands up and you won't be harmed. You have my word. On the other hand, if you stay put, my friend out there will throw you half way back to being a dog. Not so far back that you won't be able to talk, you understand. We are going to have that conversation, I promise you. The only question is how human you’ll be when we have it.”

For a moment, desperate, crazy ideas went through Malone's head. Benjamin would be standing behind Dennis and Sid. If Malone rushed them, perhaps he could get past the two heavies and stab the nobleman before they could stop him. He almost laughed aloud. The two thugs would gun him down the moment he made a move! Or perhaps he could pretend to surrender, then attack Benjamin when their guard was down. They would never relax their vigilance, though. Not until they had him properly restrained. They were far too professional for that. Surrender, then. A genuine surrender, in the hope that, at some point, an opportunity would come for him to escape and complete his self appointed mission. Or just escape. Just getting away would be enough of a victory at this point! Why hadn't he listened to Mornwell? He could have gone to the Kelvon authorities, given testimony in a court of law. Okay, he might have been prosecuted and executed for killing the government agents, but at least he would have known that Benjamin would be brought to justice. Now, though, his death would accomplish nothing!

There's still hope, he told himself grimly. So long as I live, there’s hope. At least I told Mornwell about Benjamin before I came here. At least I had that much sense! Maybe Mornwell will find some way to get Benjamin. Hired hit men or something, people who know their business, who won't make the same mistakes I did! He might be long dead by then, but the possibility still gave him some comfort. And in the meantime, just stay alive! Do whatever you have to do to stay alive, because so long as you live, there’s still hope.

“Alright,” he said therefore. “You win. I'm coming out.” He held his arm out to the side, so they could see the knife in his hand, then dropped it. Then he stepped out from behind the door.

Sid and Dennis were both aiming guns at him, while Benjamin stood behind, dressed in a silken dressing gown. “Good man,” he said. “Very sensible. Sid, find something to tie his hands with.”

The man holstered his pistol and went away, coming back a moment later with a long bootlace. He gestured for Malone to turn around, then tied his wrists, jerking the bootlace tight enough to make Malone gasp with pain. “Master Longbottom is angry with you, as you can probably tell,” said Benjamin conversationally. “You killed Zeus and Apollo, the dogs. He cared deeply for those dogs, oversaw their adoption by their illustrious predecessors, Ares and Athena. He was very fond of them.”

“Stupid names for dogs!” said Malone, twisting his wrists in an futile attempt to ease the pain.

“They're named after gods,” the nobleman explained. “Gods of the Hetin folk, or so the Radiants tell me. They've told me a great deal about the Hetin folk. They know that I have a fascination with their civilisation. Apparently, they have a museum somewhere, full of Hetin artefacts. I look forward to seeing it one day, when they take me to complete my adoption. We can talk about that later, though. Right now, I have a bed I want to get back to. This is no time for a civilised man to be up and about.” He turned to his henchmen. “Please take him to the guest room downstairs.”

Dennis grabbed Malone's arm and gave him a savage jerk that almost pulled him off his feet, then pushed him along the corridor. “I hope you got a good look at the sky yesterday,” he said, “because you’ve seen it for the last time.” He then led Malone toward the stairs that led down to Lord Benjamin Hedley's private dungeon.