Quick Ben moved forward, slipping through the gap in the wall. The firelight threw stark slashes through the shadows, randomly painting glimpses of the wizard’s body. Deep shadow cutting through any firelit scene would have been noticeable. He concentrated on blending into what surrounded him. Flame, smoke and ashes. Vague moans from collapsed buildings; a few streets away, the mourning chant of Barghast. ‘The Pannions are all gone,’ Talamandas whispered. ‘Why the need to hide?’ ‘It’s my nature. Caution keeps me alive, now be quiet.’
