'Get moving, artisan.'

Tiaan took one shuffling step, attempted another, and her knees collapsed.

Ullii, who had been flitting back and forth in the shadows, crept to her side. 'She is ill, Nish,' Ullii said in a strange, empty voice.

'She's pretending. Get up, artisan.'

'You are unkind, Nish. She is very ill.' Taking a flask from her belt, Ullii held it to Tiaan's lips.

A few drops spilled onto her lower lip. Trying to lick them off, Tiaan could hear the dry rasp of her tongue. Ullii sent a small surge of water into Tiaan's mouth. Half went down her windpipe; she coughed the rest out again. Another surge; she held it this time. After running and walking and climbing leagues inside the vastness of Tirthrax, she could have drunk a bucketful.

When she'd had enough, Nish passed a wrapped food packet to his small companion. 'Give her this. I can't bear to touch her, much less waste our precious food on her.'

Ullii broke a kind of sweet, rich bread into pieces, feeding them to Tiaan with her fingers. Tiaan wondered about the small woman. She wore a black silk mask over her eyes, her ears were covered with padded muffs, yet she seemed to hear everything and know where everything was.

All too soon, Nish pulled Tiaan to her feet. She let out a faint cry as the rope tore her wrist. He only jerked it harder. Tears formed on Tiaan's lashes as she stumbled after him. She blinked them away.

'You are cruel, Nish,' said the small woman.

'No more than she deserves!' he snapped, and kept going.

Ullii stopped dead, crouched and slowly began to curl up, covering her face with her arms. Nish was slow to realise that she was not following. 'Ullii?' he said, looking around.

There was no reply. Tiaan expected Nish to fly into a rage but he hurried back, dragging her by the rope, and fell to his knees beside Ullii. 'I'm sorry,' he said softly. 'I'm really sorry.'