‘What’s changed?’ ‘I’ve made terrible mistakes, Your Grace, done unimaginable things to those I thought were my enemies,’ replied Hector earnestly. ‘In my defence, I wasn’t in my right mind – though I’ll admit that’s a poor excuse.’ ‘I told you,’ said Bo Carver from where he sat chained to the wall beside Manfred. ‘The boy consorts with demons. Sorcery has led him here. If you’re in a quagmire, it’s of your own making, Blackhand. We should let you drown.’ Ringlin and Ibal stepped forward from behind Hector; the words of the Thief Lord rankled with the two rogues. Hector snatched at his men, catching each by a shoulder and hauling them back. ‘He’s right,’ said the magister. ‘I’ve been gripped by a darkness ever since I first communed, so long ago.’ He released his grip on the pair as they stepped back. ‘We warned you, Hector,’ said the Staglord wearily. ‘Back in Highcliff, when news of your necromancy reached the ears of the Wolf’s Council.
