PROLOGUE


“YOU WANT stories of Siris, do you? Stories of the Deathless who fought for ordinary men?”

“Yes.”

“Stories of the youth reborn a thousand times, raised in each incarnation to try – and fail – to slay the God King? Stories of the man who did not know he was immortal?”

“Yes.”

“Stories of Siris abandoned? Locked in the Vault of Tears, betrayed by the Worker of Secrets? Left to rot by the one who should have been his ally? These are the stories you seek?”

“They are.”

“Well, good. Because stories . . . stories I have. Too many stories. Stories like rats in the wheat, fat and glutted upon my thoughts and memories. It’s well past time that someone heard them . . .”

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