After years of surviving Adrilankha by practicing the trade I know best - killing people for a living - suddenly I'm in the last place any self-respecting assassin wants to be: the army. Worse. I'm right in the middle of an apocalyptic battle between two sorcerous armies, and everyone expects me to play a role they won't explain. All I've got between me the worst kind of death is my wits. Oh, and a smart-mouthed winged lizard...