Soames knew Rolf, the leader of the Neanderthals, as one of Damona’s trusted underlings. Rolf hadn’t been happy at Soames’s having half a dozen hastily grown Spawn with him, but after some patently ritual objections, his phlogiston greed took over.

‘Is it all there, Soames?’ Rolf growled.

Soames waved at the handcart. ‘Two gross vials was the price agreed upon, but I managed to round it up to three hundred for you. Think of it as a gesture of good will.’

‘Good will. Hah!’

Soames was interested in the attitude of the Neanderthals to their prisoners. He’d expected the disgust and anger – the typical Neanderthal reaction to humans – but as they left, was that a lingering look backward, at the girl, from some of the Neanderthals? Remarkable.

The girl struggled as the Spawn took her, but the boy’s attention was on the Neanderthals. He waited until they had disappeared. ‘Don’t take us to the Immortals,’ he said to Soames.

Soames sighed. It was so predictable. ‘Do you know how much pleading I’ve heard from people in your position? I’ve had offers of money, threats, prayers and promises. I haven’t relented to any of them.’

‘A man of principle,’ the girl said. She’d stopped struggling. Her spectacles were dislodged, hanging from one ear in rather delightful disarray.

Soames straightened them. He admired the neatness he’d brought about, and her singularly beautiful face. ‘We all have principles,’ he said to her. ‘Mine are rather more pragmatic than most, and they mean you won’t be going to the Immortals, my dear. They’re not interested in you.’

‘But you are?’ the girl said with no fear at all, which Soames found most extraordinary.

‘You are my way of ensuring a nice profit out of this escapade. I know several slavers who’ll be willing to bid for you.’

She laughed. ‘And here I was, imagining that you had a lofty purpose in mind for me. Human sacrifice, some sort of ghoulish ritual.’

Soames adjusted his cuffs. ‘Hardly. I’m not a sorcerer, I’m a businessman.’

‘If you’re a businessman, then you’ll want to talk to us,’ the boy said. Husky as he was, he was no match for the Spawn and had realised it. He wasn’t struggling.

Soames appreciated it when someone was resigned to their fate. It made things much easier.

‘I doubt it.’ Soames motioned to the Spawn. Without speaking, a pair took the prisoners head and foot. The girl looked angry, but the boy was strangely calm.

The boy waited, and just before the Spawn entered the tunnel he craned his neck and looked directly at Soames. ‘If you don’t talk to us,’ he said, ‘you’ll miss an opportunity.’

Opportunity. Soames couldn’t help reacting – hesitating, leaning slightly in the boy’s direction – and he cursed himself for it.