When we docked in Tresholm, it was a little after dawn. Most of the town was still asleep but the docks were already bustling, and the arrival of Wanderer attracted no attention at all. Owing to Andel’s extraordinary generosity, we were well equipped for the journey before us: he had given us enough coins to pay for second-class seats on the coach, a knapsack filled with a blanket, bread and cheese wrapped in cloth, a bottle of ginger beer, a pocketknife, and a compass. He would have given us much more, only we told him not to, and he insisted that he’d walk us the short distance to the coach station.

Unfortunately, when we got there, we discovered that not only did the next coach to Silver Harbour not leave for another hour, but the waiting room was already full, meaning that even the second-class seats outside would be taken. We’d have to wait for at least another two hours after that and every hour that passed would increase the danger of being discovered.

‘Is there any other way of getting to Silver Harbour?’ asked Max.

‘Not really,’ answered Andel. ‘Except . . . wait a moment. There’s no public transport there apart from the coach, but traders do head there all the time and I know quite a few of them. There might be someone who can give you a lift. Come on.’

He led the way through a maze of streets to a shabby little coffee house that was already buzzing with activity. Telling us to wait outside, Andel went in. A short time later, he came out again.

‘None of the men in there are leaving for a while, but one of them told me that if we go to the hospital we might just catch a trader in Almainian medicines who’s heading back to Silver Harbour within the hour. We’ll have to hurry if we’re to catch him. It’s a good long way away, on the other side of town, right on the road to Silver Harbour.’

The town was beginning to wake, with lights appearing behind windows and carts beginning to rattle through the streets. Andel strode confidently along and we hurried in his wake, with Olga piggybacking Tomi, for otherwise his short legs would hold us up. We didn’t speak, but I knew that the tension that was in me was also agitating in everyone’s thoughts. Even Andel seemed desperate to get us there in time.

The breath was nearly knocked out of me as I ran straight into Max, who had stopped behind Andel, suddenly.

‘What’s the matter?’ I cried, my heart lurching with fear, at once certain that the Mancers were coming.

Max frowned. ‘Not sure, but it looks like an accident up ahead.’

‘An accident?’ I said, blankly.

‘There’s an overturned cart and police swarming around, best not to go that way,’ Andel said and, motioning to us to follow, doubled back on his tracks and plunged down another street. Now we hurried even more, for this was obviously a longer route to our destination, and I grew increasingly desperate to make it in time.

When we finally reached the hospital the gates stood open and the courtyard was filled with carts and wagons, bringing in patients, discharging supplies, and so on. It was a hospital run by nuns and a number of them flitted about in their black habits and white winged headdresses, looking rather like a busy flock of giant magpies. Andel went over and spoke to one of them, who was chalking numbers on boxes of supplies as they were being loaded into a large covered wagon. She looked at us out of black eyes as beadily bright as a bird’s, nodded, and gestured towards one of the other carts.

At that moment, Olga gave a little cry. We turned – and there, coming down the street towards the hospital, was a detachment of police headed in our direction.

‘We’ve got to run,’ said Olga, wildly. Andel gripped her shoulder. ‘No.’ He turned to the nun. ‘Sister,’ he said calmly, ‘your wagon.’

‘Of course,’ said the nun, instantly, and reaching inside the pocket of her habit, she brought out a small box of chalk. ‘Get in and smear this on your faces and hair, even the child’s,’ she murmured. ‘And you, Mister,’ she went on, turning to Andel, ‘you can help me move these boxes.’

We didn’t wait to be told twice but scrambled into the wagon and pulled the canvas flap down behind us.

And there we had a surprise, for it wasn’t just boxes the wagon was carrying – there were four or five people in there, who lay unmoving under blankets on straw mattresses. They looked very ill, with wax-like skin stretched tight over their pale, bony faces; their frames like scarecrows with thin grey hair. A couple were asleep while the others gazed at us with dull incurious eyes as Max rapidly crushed the chalk and we did as the nun had told us. Then we huddled in amongst the patients, Olga holding the boy tight to her chest so he couldn’t cry out. None of us said a word, but we all thought this desperate stratagem was of no use – that this was the end, that the authorities were on our trail and that we would be found and it would be all up with us.

In those few surreal moments before the courtyard erupted with noise, I heard the murmur of Andel’s and the nun’s voices, but I couldn’t catch what they said. Then Andel’s voice rose and to my astonishment I heard him talking with the nun about whether or not it would rain. I could feel the stupid, desperate laughter bubbling in my throat. Well! We’d go to our doom with chalk dust on our faces and hair and inane, pointless chatter about the rain as the last memory of our brief freedom. Some memory!

The sound of heavy footsteps soon followed and I heard the nun’s clear voice saying, ‘What seems to be the matter, Sergeant?’

‘Telegraph from Ashberg,’ replied a gruff voice. ‘Gang of ruthless bank robbers on the loose.’

Bank robbers! The Mancers must not want people to know prisoners of theirs had escaped, I thought. After all, no-one was supposed to be able to do that.

‘Oh dear God,’ said the nun, anxiously. ‘And it’s thought they’ve come to our quiet little town?’

‘Nobody’s sure where they’ve gone, Sister. But every police force has been told to be on alert and to check everywhere. Have you seen any strangers about this morning, Sister?’

‘No, I have not. But I’ve been very busy this morning and would not have noticed.’

‘And you, porter?’ said the policeman.

Adopting a gruff tone, Andel said, ‘I see nobody. But then I weren’t looking neither.’

‘These people are extremely dangerous,’ said the policeman solemnly, ‘and must not be approached under any circumstances.’

‘Oh my goodness . . . My heart fair quails at the thought,’ said the nun, faintly.

‘You mustn’t be afraid, Sister. We are here to protect you. Now, do you mind opening up this wagon just to make sure no-one hid in it while your back was turned?’

We looked at each other. This was it.

But the nun hadn’t finished. ‘Oh, I can assure you no-one could possibly have snuck in there! We’ve been here all morning loading on some very sick patients of ours to take to our hospice near Marika for there is nothing more that can be done for them here.’

‘What’s wrong with them?’ he asked.

A pause, then she said something in a whisper that I couldn’t hear.

But we all heard his reaction. He sounded shaken. ‘Oh my God, I’d heard rumours it had returned, but –’

‘I’m afraid it’s no rumour, Sergeant.’

‘And as you know it is very, very contagious,’ added Andel, solemnly.

‘Yes, yes . . . But I still need to see, Sister. For my report, you understand.’

‘Of course, go ahead. But remember, don’t get too close.’

The canvas flap flung open and the sergeant’s big red face appeared in the opening. He peered in, but not for long. Hurriedly replacing the flap, he said, ‘Sister, please get these people to your hospice straightaway. The less time such cases remain in this district, the better.’

‘I quite agree, Sergeant,’ said the nun, calmly. ‘We will do just that.’

‘All right, men,’ shouted the policeman, his voice fading gradually as he walked away, ‘fall in, there’s nothing here.’ As we sat there quiet as mice we heard their heavy boots as they marched away.

Still, we did not dare to move – not until the flap was moved aside slightly and Andel’s face appeared.

‘All clear,’ he said, smiling. ‘But don’t get down,’ he added, as we made to move. ‘Sister Claudia will give you a lift to the next stop for the Silver Harbour coach. It’s on her way.’

‘How can we possibly thank you both?’ I said.

‘Don’t try, then,’ said Andel, flashing a smile.

‘Andel . . .’ Max began, ‘don’t think we are what he –’

He held up a hand. ‘Stop. Just know this – I have always been on the side of the hunted, never the hunter. I don’t want to know why you are hunted, I am just glad I could help a little.’

‘It is not a little,’ said Olga, solemnly. ‘You are good man. Very good man.’

Again, Andel smiled. ‘I am glad to hear you say that, Miss Olga.’

Their eyes met and she quickly said, ‘You come one day to my country, learn more of our words.’

‘I’ll look forward to that, Miss Olga,’ he said gently. ‘Now, I see Sister Claudia looking impatient, so goodbye, and good luck to you all.’

‘Goodbye,’ we said. I felt strangely touched, and more than a little regretful to be leaving his company, for this was a man whose heart was as big as his size. He reached in, ruffled Tomi’s hair and said, ‘You look after your sister, then, little man.’

He gave us a final smile and was gone.

‘Andel!’ Tomi began to yell, but Olga hushed him.

In the next instant Sister Claudia popped her head in at us. ‘Please, you must all be quiet, for my patients need rest, and we have a little way ahead of us yet.’

‘Sister, we are in your debt,’ said Max, ‘but we are not bank rob–’

‘Pfft,’ she snorted, ‘as if I would believe such a thing anyway! The very idea! As to debts, light a candle and say a prayer for the sick and wretched of this sad world and your debt will be repaid, my son.’ She looked at us with her beady, black eyes and added, ‘Now then, I do not know if you heard what I told the sergeant but you must not be anxious as I did not tell the whole truth.’

We must have been looking at her blankly because she smiled and said, ‘Then all is well,’ before she closed the flap and went away. Moments later, the wagon gave a lurch and we were off.

We looked at each other.

‘She said something to frighten that policeman off,’ said Max, slowly.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He certainly didn’t want to hang around.’

‘She must have told him that it was some dreadful . . .’ he began, then paused. He glanced at the unmoving patients, most of whom seemed to be dozing. He went pale. ‘Oh my God.’

‘What?’ Olga and I both said.

He leaned forward to us, and murmured, ‘The White Death.’

I felt the words lodge like cold needles in my spine as I remembered the stories I’d heard about a terrible wasting illness that slowly drained all the blood from you, turning your hair grey overnight and your skin to wax, making you into the walking dead. I saw the same horror written on the others’ faces. Only Tomi looked unmoved. But then Tomi was very young – there was no reason for him to have any knowledge of what it meant.

‘But that was wiped out, long ago, in the whole of the empire.’

‘No, there were two cases last year,’ Max said, bleakly. ‘It was hushed up, so there would be no panic.’ He read my expression. ‘I happened to see it in one of my father’s documents. It said that it hadn’t spread. The victims were sailors, from –’ he looked at Olga ‘– from your part of the world. They’d only just arrived in Faustina and had no time to infect anyone.’

‘Or so it say,’ said Olga, with a tremble in her voice. ‘Oh my friends, even if we can outrun the hunters still we cannot outrun death itself if we stay amongst these people any longer.’

She made as if to get up. ‘Wait, it cannot be like that,’ I said. ‘Why would the Sister have told us what she did? Remember, she said we must not be anxious.’

‘Yes,’ said Max, the colour returning to his cheeks. ‘And she said she’d told the truth, but not all of it. I think she would have told us to go as soon as the police had left if . . . it was that.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Olga. ‘Or maybe this nun she not frightened because she doing holy work and she think the angels will protect her and us just the same.’ She shook her head. ‘But I know White Death can take holy and unholy and old and young and I am frightened of this thing. I think we go now, me, we should not risk any more.’

I was a little shaken by her vehemence. After all, the disease still existed in Ruvenya and she might even have known people who had fallen victim to it. But then I remembered something else.

‘Andel also went along with it,’ I said, ‘and he is no believer in the automatic protection of angels, I’ll be bound. He would never have left us if he truly thought there was any chance these people were sick with – you know what. No, I think Sister Claudia told him the truth beforehand. That’s why he played along. He’d never have done it if he thought there was any danger of us falling ill.’

‘Especially you and Tomi,’ said Max, smiling at Olga. ‘He really took to the pair of you, anyone could see that.’

Olga snorted but I noticed the look she gave Tomi. She was starting to get fond of the little boy despite herself, I thought, and if he ever realises that – if he understands she has no intention of hurting him, then she’d have no hold over him and we would be in danger. But I said nothing about this.

Instead I remarked, ‘We’ve got to wait, Olga, we really do, at least until we’re well out of this town. Don’t you see?’

‘Very well,’ said Olga, crossly tossing her head. ‘As you wish.’

But she moved away to the far side of the wagon with Tomi, as far away as she could from the patients, and glared at them as if she thought the poor wretches might rise up and deliberately breathe sickness all over her and the child. Watching her, I remembered something I’d read once about werewolves fearing sickness – both human and wolf strains – much more than the silver bullet of the bounty hunter. For the rumoured efficacy of silver bullets was just that – a rumour – and hunters could be outrun, while sickness was a very real threat which even the fastest creature might not outrun. They feared it much more than a forest trap or a spell, for though both could be avoided by cunning and care, sickness could not. I knew then not only how brave it was of Olga to stay there when every nerve must be screaming at her to go, but also how much it was the memory of Andel’s certainty that kept her there despite it all. Andel, who said he’d always been on the side of the hunted, not the hunter: and who would never have dreamed that, in her case, those words had much more than the usual meaning.

And what of Sister Claudia? She, too, had instinctively taken the side of the hunted against the hunter. She’d shielded strangers she’d never laid eyes on before. Was that due just to her charitable calling, the fact she saw it as her duty to care for the wretched of this sad world? Unlikely, I thought. Her charity and courage were real and came from the heart, just like Andel’s. We had been truly blessed, I thought, and for the first time in years, I offered up a silent prayer of thankfulness.