An extract from Kate's latest work:

Chapter 5

Raid On Arvestel

"Easy, lads."
Tugger's order was barely breathed. The four rowers shipped oars so smoothly that not a drop of water splashed into the river. Perrin nosed the boat into the reeds until it bedded itself in the soft mud. The silence was broken only by the cry of a wading bird. The air was warm, with the breath of summer; Perrin smelled trumpet-flowers and blush-blossom. There was only one moon, and it was waning, but even that was too much moon for Tugger.
"We'll lie up here tonight and tomorrow. Moondark tomorrow night. Perfect timing. Tonight's a recce. Wisp, you stay here."
Perrin saw the flash of teeth as Doughty grinned. Tall, solemn Pigeon squeezed his shoulder with a bony hand.

"Watch the weather, Tug," murmured Wisp. "Smells like rain."
"Wispy always smells rain. Not a cloud in the sky, but Wispy smells rain."
The men stowed their gear under the canvas cover, and pulled their dark woollen hats low over their brows. Without a sound, they leapt onto the bank. Perrin followed; the reeds rustled as he landed, and someone chuckled softly. Tugger swung Perrin around, and smeared the dark paint more carefully across his face with his thumb. Then he nodded, and they were off, gliding between the trees in their usual order: Tugger, then Pigeon, Doughty, Perrin, and the twitchy Fello in the rear. Doughty muttered, "Hey, Snake, any wild beasties nearby?"
Perrin grinned back at him. "I'll let you know."
It seemed like a quarter of the night before they emerged from the woods. They'd circled the Palace carefully from the river; now they were on its eastern side. Almost imperceptibly Tugger signalled to the others. Perrin still had trouble seeing his signals; sometimes Tugger seemed to communicate with his men through mind-speech. Perrin found himself on his stomach beside the squad leader. Tugger muttered, "There it is, lad. Arvestel."
The landscape was muted grey and green in the faint light of the single moon. The hills of southern Baltimar were like shallow bowls upturned on a tabletop, with a silvery-green velvet cloth thrown over them. Beyond two low hills lay Arvestel, nestled in a valley: the palace of ivory, the Royal Court, the soft, corrupt heart of the enemy. The towered palace was all shining domes and slender spires; pennants drooped, colourless in the waning light. All around the palace spread an embroidery of ornamental gardens: hedges and urns and clipped trees and fountains.
Tugger passed Perrin the glass. "Patrols all around the Palace. Guards round the walls. They must keep those stitched-together beasts for the inside. See anything?"
Perrin peered. He was aware of all the men waiting, listening, respectful. For the first time on this mission, he wasn't just the raw kid: he was the expert. He said, "I can see something." And they all took a breath, even Tugger.
"What is it? What is it?" That was Fello, quick and nervous.
"Steady," murmured Tugger. "Let me see, Snake."
Perrin said, "It's gone. Sorry. Looked like one of those half-men you were talking about. With claws instead of hands."
Doughty swore softly. Perrin decided he'd better not push it too far. "I can't see anything now," he said truthfully.
"The Balts are holding the boy at the corner of the east wing, closest to us. See those two towers with the big flags? Below that, just above the first row of battlements. Those three long windows. That's our target, lads."
Perrin passed the glass to Fello; they all took a turn, scanning the walls, checking the terrain. Perrin didn't have to worry about any of that, Tugger had said. His job was the beasts. The others would take care of everything else. "But I want you in the room. You'll be with me. Clear? The boy's not far off your age. People like you. Might help if the boy likes you, too. Make life easier."
Suddenly Perrin understood. "He's not expecting us, is he?"
"Might be. Might not. We've tried to get word to him, but we don't know. There's a chance he might even be — hostile."
"Hostile? To being rescued?"
"Captives can get attached to their captors. I've seen it happen. That's where you come in. Make friends. Persuade him we're here to help. Clear?"
Perrin took another look through the glass at the three windows at the corner. The others were muttering about hooks, and ropes, and signals; Perrin didn't listen. This time he really could see a patrol on the battlements. Three men. They looked ordinary enough, in the scarlet and blue uniform of Palace guards. Nice uniform. Much smarter than the drab Rengani mud-brown. It wasn't what the Balts regular army wore, of course, but even the Balt battle gear was a tasteful shade of blue-grey…

Three men. Two with short swords, for close fighting. No shields. Not expecting any action, and why would they? What was the third man holding — a whip? Perrin squinted through the glass. It was a lead, a pair of leads. The patrol moved past a gap in the battlements, and Perrin grinned to himself as he saw the dogs. Two big black and tan hounds with square muzzles. They'd be vicious in attack, but they were just ordinary dogs, nothing he couldn't handle with his eyes shut. He'd never entirely believed those stories of Tugger's about the half-men, half-beasts, but it was still a relief to know that this was going to be easy after all.

On the way back to the boat, Perrin suddenly stopped short and cocked his head.

"Sst!" Fello alerted the others.

Perrin sang a low growl of chantment that made the hair stand up on everyone's neck. "Surroan?" muttered Tugger.

Perrin, still singing, shook his head. He dropped to his haunches. "Keep still," he whispered.

A huge wild boar stood on the other side of the clearing. A big, heavy sow, with jowls flecked with foam, she swung her head and grunted.

Perrin lifted his voice. The sow swung her head toward him and squealed. She pawed the ground. Perrin couldn't see her eyes in the shadows. Come on, princess. This won't take long, then you can go on your way. He sang, low and sweet, and stepped toward the sow. She lowered her head — in submission, or ready to charge? Perrin heard someone's breath catch. For a long moment, he and the sow stared at each other. Then she swung her head away and trotted off through the trees.

"By the bones!" Doughty clapped him on the back so hard he nearly fell over. "That was a close one! Lucky — "

"No luck about it," said Tugger swiftly. "Well done, lad."

"It was nothing," said Perrin modestly. It was lucky: lucky the boar was close enough that he could bring her closer without having to sing for long. He couldn't pull that trick too often, but knowing that tomorrow night was going to be so simple, he'd wanted to do something impressive. He was almost disappointed that Tugger wouldn't see him try his chantments on any man-monsters.

He just managed to stop himself from whistling.

The next day it rained. "Damn you, Wispy," muttered Fello. "Can't stand to be wrong, can you?"
They spent an uncomfortable day crouched under canvas in the boat, well hidden in the reeds. Pigeon went out once, but didn't see anything unusual.
"Hunting party from the Palace. Just some fat Baltish kids fooling around."
"Hope they run into that big boar from last night," said Fello. "Give em a fright. Did I tell you about that, Wispy?"
"Only about twenty times." Wisp winked at Perrin, who sat quietly sharpening his dagger. He recognised the subdued, tense mood of the men: it was the same before any battle. He reached into his knapsack and pulled out the finger-harp.
Now was not the time for rousing tunes or comic songs; he played the old ballads of Rengan, that the men had learned as early as breathing, songs they'd heard as they lay in their mother's wombs. The steady drumbeat of rain on the canvas kept time, and the irregular drip of water as it slid off the brim of Tugger's battered hat. Perrin kept his eyes on his fingering, but he saw Wisp raise a hand to his face, and Doughty turn away. He judged the moment just before Tugger said, "That's enough," and played a merry little jig to finish up.
The rain eased slightly around sunset, but didn't stop. "No need to worry about moondark," said Wisp. "We got enough cloud to block ten moons."
"And enough mud to drown a damn battalion," growled Pigeon.
As the dial on Tugger's pocket-clock crawled toward midnight, the men grew quiet. Perrin was tense, but not afraid. The danger for him was the dogs, and he wasn't scared of them. Even if that big old boar-sow jumped out at them in the woods on the way, he knew he could handle her. When Tugger said softly, "Time, lads," he was the first to his feet.
"I'll have a swig of hot wine waiting for you," said Wisp. "Good luck, lads."
"We'll make our own luck tonight," said Tugger sternly, but he laid a hand briefly on Wisp's shoulder.
"See you on the other side," croaked Wisp as they departed, the traditional soldier's farewell, and Perrin lifted one hand to acknowledge it.
This time it was impossible to creep silently through the woods; the rain had turned the ground to slush. Doughty slid, and when he scrambled up, he was limping. "It's not bad." He shrugged off Fello's hand. "It'll come good. I swear it, Tug, it's not that bad."
"Stand on it," said Tugger.
Doughty swore, and grimaced, and the leg buckled. "Back to the boat," said Tugger. "Now. Send Wispy to catch up."
The remaining four struggled on. Low branches lashed at their faces, thorns snagged their clothes, and always the mud slid and sucked under their feet. At last they reached the place where there was no cover between them and the Palace gardens.
"Right, lads. Count of one hundred between. You first, Pigeon. Go, go, go."
Perrin's stomach turned over. They were crossing the open ground singly, every man for himself. What was he supposed to do after that? He'd thought Tugger would look out for him. He hadn't listened to the briefings. It was too late to ask now. Pigeon and Fello were already gone —
"Ninety-nine, a hundred." Tugger waved him forward, eyes down on his pocket-clock. "Make luck for yourself, son. Go, go, go."
And he was off, running through the rain toward the dim, wavering lights of the Palace, bent double and gasping for breath as the wet ground slammed up beneath his feet. The rain was blinding. His dagger-belt was loose, it flapped at his side. He clutched it with one hand. Where were the lights? All the lights had gone out. No, there they were. He was veering south…
A hedge whacked him in the face and the ground came up to meet him with a smack. Automatically he rolled, pressed himself flat. He groped for his dagger-belt, his hands slippery with mud and rain, and managed to pull it tight. Don't panic, Perrin. All you have to do is creep through the garden.
He crawled along the line of the hedge until he found a gap. But beyond the gap was another solid wall of greenery, parallel with the first. He blundered along that for a while; this one ran in a curve that took him right round the other side of the Palace. Another gap, a straight avenue, then bang, into yet another hedge. At last Perrin realised he was trapped inside a maze. No one had said anything about a maze.
Back and forth Perrin crawled in the rain for what seemed an eternity, trying to inch his way forward, sometimes forced back on his tracks. The hedges were too slippery to climb, and too dense to burrow through.
Then at last he was out, with a gravel path under his hands and knees. He rolled over and turned his face up to the rain. The sky was black; the water fell out of it like stones. Far away, someone was shouting.
Someone was shouting. Perrin stumbled to his feet and set off again, head down, shoulder to the rain. The lights were close now, looming out of a sudden cliff of solid shadow. The Palace wall. What was he supposed to do? Low, get low, behind this fountain. That was better. Curse this rain. He wiped his hair out of his eyes. He couldn't see a damn thing.
There was a noise. Shouting again. Perrin tensed. It might be all right. It might just be the harmless shout of one patrol to another, calling all's well.
But he knew, even then, that it was all wrong.
He waited and waited, but no patrols came by. He heard voices, close to the Palace wall, but no more shouts. He glimpsed the flicker of lights around a corner. At last, for no real reason, he started to run, crouching, toward the wall.
"Snake! Snake!"
Pigeon's long arms wrapped around him from behind and brought him to the ground with a thud. "You frugging idiot," he hissed in Perrin's ear. "What are you playing at? I've been watching you march around that garden like you were on parade this full quarter of the night. No, keep your head down. We're all right here. By the bones. As if things weren't bad enough — "
"What's happened?" whispered Perrin. Pigeon held him tight around the waist, so tight he could hardly breathe, and rocked him cheek to cheek.
"Fello's gone. Got stuck in that frugging maze and the patrol found him. Don't know where Tugger's got to, no sign of Wispy either. Shut up and let me listen."
"Fello's captured?"
"Dead."
Perrin swallowed. For a long time the two men were silent, rocking back and forth in the rain. Pigeon didn't seem to realise that he was clutching Perrin like a child with a rag-doll. The rain beat down. Dogs barked in the distance, an excited clamour. Pigeon let out a long sigh, and released Perrin. "Hear that? Come on, Snake. Go, go, go."
Pigeon disappeared into the dark. Perrin gaped after him. Go where? On hands and knees he crawled after Pigeon. Now he heard noises too: the soft scrape of metal on stone, the whirr of a rope let out through a pulley. Tugger had done it, climbed the face of the Palace with his pegs and toes, secured the rope and let it down. Trust Tugger to get it right, even when everything else was turning to piss and mud.
Out of the rain Pigeon grabbed him again, shoved his mouth close to Perrin's ear. "You're up. Go, go, go."
As he spoke he yanked the rope around Perrin's waist and tightened it, boosting Perrin up the wall. Confused, Perrin groped for foot and handholds. This wasn't the plan, but the plan was all blown to pieces. There were supposed to be four of them scaling the wall, two teams of two. Big Doughty was supposed to have pulled Perrin to the top. When he'd practised with Doughty before they sailed south, it was almost like flying; he'd pushed off lightly from the rocks as he rose effortlessly higher.

Tugger dragged him upward, rough as a sack of carrots; his hands and knees scraped on the stone, his hips banged into the wall. He couldn't see how high he'd come. Tugger stopped pulling. A pause. Perrin dangled at the end of the line. If Tugger let go the rope —

Desperately Perrin felt for a foothold in the dark. He managed to jam the toe of his boot into a crack, but then the rope jerked and he was yanked upward again. Not far now. He heard Tugger pant for breath. And dogs, the breath of dogs. Not barking. Heads down, intent on a scent close by. Didn't Tugger hear them too? A whine. He must have heard that.

In sudden panic, Perrin remembered: the dogs were his job. He started to sing. Rain poured down his face and into his mouth. Then the dogs heard. Their breathing changed, they whined; almost at the top, Perrin heard the irregular thump of tails. So the dogs were right there —

With one last, rough heave on the line, Perrin reached the top of the battlements. And saw, not Tugger's black-smeared face, but strangers. Four men leering in triumph, holding the rope. Perrin saw this in the instant it took him to grasp the battlements and vault over the top of the wall. He yelled a song, a new chantment, and the dogs attacked.

They sprang just as the guards reached for Perrin. There was a flurry of teeth and fur and screams. Perrin rolled out of the way; a body fell, boots kicked wildly. Perrin was still singing, but no one cared about him any more. The guards screeched commands at their dogs, but the animals were oblivious, obedient only to Perrin's chantment; they snarled and snapped and mauled their own handlers. Perrin edged back from the tangle of dogs and men, not too far, so that the dogs could still hear him.

Groping back, his hand came down on something warm and firm. It was Tugger. The body was crumpled beneath a window. The throat had been torn out.

Perrin's song dried in his mouth. Someone shouted, "Below! There's more below!" and there was a clatter of boots, more yells and barks. The dogs let go. Perrin pressed himself back against the wall. Far below he heard more shouts, then the whistle of arrows.

There was one moment of silence, then a roar went up. "Got him!"

Perrin leaned against the wet stone, feeling sick. Fello, Pigeon, Tugger, all gone. He was alone.

The guards were gone, the dogs were gone. Alone. Perrin whispered, "Go, go, go."

There was a long window beside him, next to the corner. Perrin caught hold of the bottom pane and pulled with all his might. It wasn't locked, and the window slid up so smoothly that Perrin toppled into the room, tearing down a heavy curtain onto his head. He thrashed and lurched, a headless beast, a man-monster. He knocked into something, a little table or a chair, and felt it collapse beneath him like a nest of twigs.

Someone said, "Don't move!"

Perrin felt the prick of a sword-point through the fabric of the curtain, and froze.

Someone plucked the curtain off Perrin's head, and he blinked in the sudden blaze of light. There were lamps everywhere, glinting off silver and gold. It was like standing inside a treasure-box. He'd never seen anything like it: the flowers, the carpets, the gilt, the cushions. He staggered sideways.

"I said, don't move!" The sword pricked his back, and for the first time Perrin registered that the voice was female. Cautiously he turned his head.

Two kids, a couple of years younger than himself, stood behind him. One, a slightly built, fair-haired boy in a white shirt and breeches, held the sword with easy confidence to Perrin's back. The other was a girl with shoulder-length red hair tied back; she was wearing a long grey dressing-gown with embroidered collar and cuffs.

"He's not moving. Put the sword down, Tansy."

"Not till he throws his dagger down."

Then Perrin realised he'd got it wrong. The one in grey was the boy, and the one with the sword was the girl. He started to laugh.

"Shut up!" said the girl fiercely. "This ain't funny! Don't you know a man was killed just outside that window?"

Perrin stopped laughing. "I know."

The boy said, "Who are you? What's going on?"

"He's come to kill you, that's what!" cried the girl. "He's an assassin."

"Sh, Tansy, let him speak."

Perrin said to the girl, "Are you his bodyguard? I can see I'll have to revise my ideas about Baltish women."

As he spoke he whipped out his dagger. Tansy lunged, he dodged. They stood with blades poised, ready to spring. "I ain't no bodyguard," said Tansy. "I'm just a friend."

"So am I." Perrin thrust his dagger back in its sheath. "I'm Perrin. I'm here to rescue you."

"Rescue me?" echoed the boy.

"Res-cue you." Perrin almost spat the words out. "Save you. Take you home."

The two kids stared at him, and Perrin saw himself as they must see him: a wild figure splashed with mud, face blackened, drenched from head to toe. His knees buckled and he sank down on an enormous stuffed sofa.

"Call the guards," he said. "Get it over with. What a joke. Three men dead. One injured. Who knows what's happened to Wispy, maybe the boar got him. The mission's failed. Go on, call the guards. Let them see Rengan's finest in action. Give them a good laugh. I always said I was a born soldier. Oh sweet bones of the everlasting gods."

"I wish Beeman were here," said Skir to Tansy.

"Well, he ain't. Looks like he's abandoned you."

"He wouldn't do that."

At that moment there was a huge explosion from above their heads. The room shook; Skir covered his ears. Paintings and mirrors crashed from the walls.

Tansy said in awe, "The cannons on the roof."

"They've never fired them before," said Skir.

The tremendous boom sounded again; a vase of flowers trembled at the edge of a shelf, then smashed to the floor. Now they could hear whistles, shouts, dogs barking.

Perrin had rolled off the sofa at the first explosion, and covered his head with his arms; now he sprang up. "They're coming back. They've worked out it's you we were after."

The whistles shrilled close by. There were running footsteps inside the Palace, thundering up the stairs. Perrin looked at Tansy. "Well? You going to help me save your boyfriend?"

"She's not — "

"He ain't my boyfriend!" Tansy's face turned scarlet.

"You going to turn me in then?"

Unconsciously he adopted the rhythms of her speech. It was a trick that came naturally to Perrin, like mimicking the animals he tamed. Like trusts like. Already Tansy's distrust was wavering.

She hesitated. Then she thrust the sword at Skir and grabbed Perrin's hand. "Quick. Into the bed."

"I can't pretend I've slept through that!" protested Skir.

"Not you. Me and the Gani. You hold them off. We'll work out what to do with him later." Tansy dived into Skir's bed, and Perrin burrowed after her.

Heart racing, Skir kicked the sword under the sofa's skirts. It hung over the fire for decoration; it had never occurred to him that it was an actual weapon until Tansy had pointed it out. He flipped a plump cushion over a muddy patch. The curtain! He bundled it up and shoved it after the sword. He was only just in time; the next instant, the doors crashed open and the room was flooded with guards, swords drawn, dogs straining at their leashes.

"What's going on?" Skir tried to make his voice deep and angry, but he could hear the squeak of fear, even if no one else could.

"Rengani assassins!" barked the captain of the guard. "Why are all the lamps lit? Why's that window open?"

"I was trying to see what was happening — all the commotion — "

"That's dangerous." One of the guards slammed the window shut.

The dogs sniffed and whined, straining to explore. Skir followed as they ran into the bedroom and snuffled eagerly round the bed. One put his muddy paws up on the covers and barked. "Do you mind?" said Skir nervously. "That's Gellanese silk."

"Looks like they've found something," said the handler.

But then the dogs turned away. One sat down and scratched himself. Another's tail thumped lazily on the carpet. They'd lost interest in the bed.

The handler rubbed his head. "Don't know what's got into the dogs tonight. Damnedest thing, earlier, the way they turned — "

"Not in front of — " muttered the captain. He jerked his head toward Skir, then realised the boy was watching him. Belatedly he saluted. "You hear anything suspicious? Your Highness?" he remembered to add.

"Well, there was a lot of noise. I got up to look. My tutor — "

"Yes, where is he? He's here with you?"

"He — he went to find out what was going on." Skir clutched his dressing-gown round him. In fact Beeman's bed had not been slept in, and Skir had no idea where he was. "Didn't you see him outside?"

The captain frowned. "I'll send him back to you when I do see him. He's not supposed to leave you unattended."

"There's nothing to worry about, is there?"

"No, of course not. Everything's under control. Thought one of the Gani bastards had given us the slip, pardon my language, but it seems not."

"A Gani couldn't get past you, surely?"

"No, your Highness. No, we've got them all."

"So you'll be calling off the search now?"

The captain hesitated. "Well — yes."

"And there won't be any more disruption? My protector, the King, won't be very happy if he hears my sleep's been interrupted."

"No, sir. Should be all quiet now. Sorry we disturbed you. Only thinking of your safety."

"All right. I'll tell the King how conscientious you've been."

"Thank you, sir. Goodnight, your Highness."

With salutes from the guards, the patrol withdrew.

Skir twitched the bedcovers. "You can come out now."

Tansy emerged. "You talk to the King?" she said in awe.

"Never spoken to him in my life. But I'm a King myself, don't forget."

"Not a real King, though."

Skir stood open-mouthed, searching for a suitable reply to this outrageous statement. Perrin put out the nearest lamp and peered from the window. "Looks as if they really have called off the search. Nice work." He ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry I muddied up your bed."

"What now?" said Skir.
"Put all the lights out," said Tansy. "Looks like a party in here, and anyone can see through that window. Where's that sword?"
Perrin said, "What, you've shared a bed with me, and you still don't trust me?"
"That's the time to trust a man the least, my Ma says." Tansy caught up the sword and aimed it at Perrin's throat. "Too right I don't trust you. But I reckon we can use you."
"Are you sure you haven't done this before?" Perrin smiled, but Tansy scowled at him.
"I trained with my brothers. I could give you a fair fight. Want to try me?"
"No, thanks." Perrin raised his hands in mock surrender and stretched out on the bed. "This is like lying on clouds. What is it, goose down?"
Skir returned from putting out the lamps. "I guess if you wait a while it'll be safe for you to go."
"Just him?" said Tansy. "What about you and me?"
"What?"
"We're escaping, ain't we?" She turned to Perrin. "Ain't that what you came for?"
Perrin sat up. He said crisply, "Perhaps you didn't understand me. The mission is in ribbons. Tugger's dead, so are Pigeon and Fello, maybe Wisp, too. Doughty and I will be lucky to get back down the river alive."
"Down the river? You got a boat?"
"A boat. That's clever," said Skir softly.
"So we just got to get out of the Palace and through the woods. We can do that. I know a way." Tansy swung back to Skir. "The Witch-Woman's got secret passages, Lorison showed me. There's one leads right out into the woods. There's a door in the green music room, I was meant to use it to get back to Madam after I took your — Anyway, never mind that now, think we can sneak out without them guards catching us?"
"The green music room isn't far," said Skir. "But — "
Tansy hugged herself. "Long as Madam don't see us," she whispered. "I bet she got eyes in all them passages. But that's all right, you can protect us with your magic."
"But Tansy — "
"Good." Tansy turned toward the cupboards. "We already packed one bag for me, now we'll pack one for you. Lucky it's summer, you won't need much. Quick, get dressed. Where's that money you won?"
"Wait," said Skir. "I want to talk to Beeman."
"Your precious Beeman ain't here. You got a Gani soldier sitting on your bed. You got to make up your own mind this time. Get dressed."
"I want to talk to Beeman first."
Tansy stopped pulling out clothes and seized him by the shoulders. "You been telling me for two days how you hate it here. Ain't this your chance to get home?"
Skir screwed up his face.
"So? You want to get out of here, I got to get away from Madam. No more to say. I'm taking these boots. Lucky your feet ain't much bigger than mine. You got food, Gani, on this boat of yours?"
Perrin's hands dangled between his knees as he watched Tansy tear around the rooms, thrusting useful things into a rucksack. The boy tugged on some breeches. Perrin was very tired, his head felt like lead, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to rest for long. He whispered, "Go, go, go."