The Grave thief

CHAPTER 29

Waking early, Amber had scrubbed his body over the washbasin and was halfway though dressing when a servant knocked on the door. She was blonde and a bit too curvy for Amber's tastes, but she didn't once look him in the eye as she carried in a tray bearing porridge and wide bowls of black tea. The first was too bland, the second too bitter, but the room was a chilly place and he gulped both down eagerly. He was eyeing Nai's food when the portly necromancer emerged from the sleeping cell opposite his and gave a small cheer at what awaited him.

A tall window at one end of the thin room admitted the only light. The windowless bedroom had been an unnervingly dark place in which to sleep, so Amber, feeling foolish and cowardly, had gone to sleep with the candle stub still lit.

'Bit too much like prison cells for my liking,' Nai said in between mouthfuls.

'At least they let us out this morning.'

The night had been far from restful. Once Nai had warded the room against eavesdroppers they had talked for an hour or more, and Amber's head had been awhirl by the time he turned in. Nai had recognised the nursemaid at once, even if Amber hadn't — he could barely believe how much she had changed. But the necromancer had no explanation of how she had ended up in Byora — even Zhia Vukotic had presumed Haipar died in the fighting.

That hadn't been the only revelation of Nai's to stun Amber. That Zhia herself had been party to the conversation he'd had with the duchess, courtesy of Lady Kinna's eyes, had also come as something of a surprise. He didn't know who the child was, or the big sergeant, Kayel. All Nai could tell was that there was some link between the two of them — it was fading with time, but there was a clear residue of some magic that had been done. Similarly, the information that Legana, the Farlan spy, had killed Mikiss in their rented rooms was given without explanation. Nai had claimed the Lady herself had been present in their rooms, only a few days before she had been killed in the Temple District.

'I've been thinking,' Amber began slowly. 'This link, it's fading, right?' Nai looked up from his bowl of bitter tea and nodded. 'Can you do anything to increase its strength?'

Nai pursed his lips in thought. 'Mostly likely it would probably replicate the spell.'

'Didn't seem to hurt the first time round,' he said dismissively, 'and I reckon this link might come in useful, so I don't want to lose it.'

'It's not going to disappear any time in the next month,' Nai said with a shake of the head. 'The spell is ended and there's nothing draining the energy other than normal attrition.'

'Good, Lord Styrax might be keen to keep track of that sergeant.'

'Why?'

'Do you remember when we were taken by Zhia? When that lost lamb of hers, Doranei, came to visit he was looking for someone in particular, someone he was sure had been seen going into that house. I always thought it was just too convenient that we got hit the first night we were there.'

'You don't think it was simply mistaken identity?'

'Who attacks a necromancer without making damn sure there's a good reason?'

Nai nodded. 'And if you were leading someone to attack a necn› mancer — whether to set them against each other or just poke a stick in the hornet's nest — you'd not rely on a passing similarity, not if you had the skill to make sure.'

'That King's Man always gave me a strange look when he thought I wasn't looking. Never liked to have me behind him. I noticed that. What if that was because of the link? What if he was reminded of Kayel every time he looked at me, and Kayel's someone he wants to kill?'

'So who is Kayel?'

'Haven't got that far,' Amber admitted, 'but according to Doranei, Azaer was behind everything in Scree. Not sure if I believe that, but he did.'

'Kayel is a disciple of Azaer?' Nai mused. 'Lord Styrax would certainly be interested to hear that whatever part the shadow is playing.'

Amber's face became glum. 'Let's hope Kayel don't find out in time. Gods, I hate having my swords out of reach.'

The journey into the mountain turned out to be encouragingly uneventful. Amber and Nai went directly to Kiyer's shrine at the back of the Ruby Tower, then had to wait for over an hour before anyone else turned up. The two soldiers posted at their door had followed them, but made no attempt to restrict their movements. Nai was reluctant to enter at first. He told Amber that the shrine had been de-consecrated, that there was no fragment of the spirit of the Goddess residing there any longer. Unsure what to make of the information, Amber had ended up pacing the room and muttering to himself until the duchess and her small entourage arrived.

When she did finally appear, the duchess was resplendent in a riding dress of emerald and cream, and a glowing firegem the size of a quail's egg was hanging from her neck. Oddly, she wore a dirk at her hip, hanging alongside a green cloth bag of similar length.

'The guardians of the library demand you hand over your weapons before you enter the grounds,' she explained, seeing Amber note the weapon. 'The first time I went unarmed the poor fool looked like a lost puppy when I gave him nothing; it cheers them up to have something to be officious over.'

'What about my weapons?' Amber asked as the little boy from the throne room trotted in. He was wearing a miniature guardsman uniform, and much to Amber's surprise he was gently ushered over to the duchess by the savage-looking Sergeant Kayel.

The duchess pointed to Kayel and Amber saw the man had a long wrapped bundle in one hand. 'Kayel has them.'

On cue Kayel slung the strap over his shoulder, all the while keeping his sword-hand free and near the grip of his bastard sword. Keeping his eyes on Amber, the sergeant produced a key and locked the shrine door behind them, handing the key to the duchess. Now that Amber was paying attention he saw the sparkle of gems set into the hilt of Kayel's sword.

He wears that and still they think him a sergeant? What's wrong with these people?

'You're bringing your child? We'll be walking for miles.'

'Ruhen comes with me,' she replied fiercely, bringing the boy close to her side. 'He is a perfect child, and will not complain.'

Amber didn't push the matter, a little taken aback by the passion of her reaction. 'No Lady Kinna?'

Her expression softened as soon as the subject was diverted. 'Lady Kinna will not be necessary; we keep these trips to a minimum number. Sergeant Kayel will come along to keep an eye on you, and he will carry Ruhen, should he tire. Now, Major, if you please; that stone font should slide towards me quite easily.'

The Menin soldier set to work, noting the grooved track in the floor. He gripped the ornate handles bolted into the font's sides. The font had a wide basin to catch the water Amber guessed was poured to accompany prayers. In keeping with the theme of lapsed piety, the silver jug he would have expected to see in the shrine had disappeared, doubtlessly stolen once the chapel had been de-consecrated.

The font's large square base concealed a wrought-iron spiral stair leading down to an unimpressive passageway. As the duchess walked to the top step she produced what looked like a small iron mace from the cloth bag, except bound within the head was a piece of cloudy quartz shaped like an egg. Extending past the egg were two steel prongs that appeared to be a tuning fork — and indeed, now the duchess was tapping the prongs delicately on the wall. As the note rang out the quartz began to cast a bright bluish light over the room. She handed the strange implement to Sergeant Kayal and produced another for herself.

'Far more practical than pitch-soaked torches,' she said as she reached the bottom of the steps. 'Do remember to keep up; you'll find it terribly dark by yourselves down there.'

Amber didn't reply. He had a tinder-kit and candles, in addition to Nai's magery — but there was only one passage leading to the library, so they didn't have much choice anyway. He quickly caught them up and moved ahead as Kayel stepped to one side and motioned him to pass so he could be watched.

The passage through the mountain, two yards wide and at least seven high at its peak, was so smooth it had to have been magically made. It sloped down for about fifty yards before turning sharply right, heading south-east towards the library, and beginning a long climb upwards. Setting a brisk pace and trying hard not to think about the countless tons of rock above, Amber headed into the darkness.

After an hour the passageway ended in another sharp right turn. Past the corner, Amber found a tall pair of doors secured by a brass latch. Opening them he found an identical pair five yards further on, except the second set didn't budge when he tried them.

'They're barred,' the duchess told him as Kayel set Ruhen down on the ground and shut the first pair of doors behind them. 'There is a chain by your servant's shoulder, pull it and you will signal our presence.'

Amber did as he was told. A bell pealed solemnly from some-where above the door, and within a minute he heard the clunk of bolts being withdrawn. The door jerked open and light flooded the room. For a moment Amber couldn't see anything, then he made out an indistinct white shape standing in front of him.

Despite knowing what to expect he still gave a cough of surprise. The Litse white-eye was tall and slender, except for a chest deep enough to rival a Chetse's, and hair nearly as white as his skin — but that all paled into insignificance when set against the crucial difference between Litse white-eyes and all others: the pair of grey-speckled wings neatly folded on his back.

'Natai Escral, Duchess of Byora, welcome,' the man intoned, his expression blank. 'Please hand me your weapons.'

'Good morning, Kiallas,' the duchess replied breezily, unbuckling her dirk, and handing it to him. 'How fares life in the library?'

Kayel looked less than pleased as he handed over his weapons and the bundle containing Amber's scimitars, but the only reaction Kiallas gave was to frown when Amber had nothing to hand over.

'The library endures as it always has,' Kiallas replied, disinterested. He didn't look like much of a scholar; his breastplate of shining steel had the rune of Hit, God of the Wind, emblazoned upon it. Intricate scroll-work detailed the edges of his breastplate, his vambraces and greaves, and the latter were topped with a small wing-shape that protected his knees.

A quiver full of javelins hung from his belt, but Amber was more interested in the pole-arm resting comfortably on his shoulder. Not as long as most spears, it had a curved head the length of a short sword; the major, trained to fight with scimitars, could well imagine Kiallas in flight, this weapon slashing beneath him.

'Still as engaging as ever I see,' the duchess said with forced cheer as she made her way around the white-eye and out into the daylight. 'This view, however, more than makes up for the lack of conversation.' She stretched her arms up and took in a deep breath before turning to look for Ruhen. 'My dear, come and see the Library of the Seasons.'

Amber and Kayel followed the boy out as Kiallas turned to descend the grey stone steps cut into the bedrock that led down to a stretch of meadow and a low-walled garden full of withered brown plants that a wingless boy was hoeing without apparent impact. Beyond that was the first of half-a-dozen enormous white-stone buildings that Amber now saw dotted the whole crater-like opening.

There were vertical cliffs on all sides, hemming in a space Amber guessed to be more than half a mile across — a valley like a dented bowl sheltered by the surrounding cliffs. Looking down on it all was the black dragon-tooth of Blackfang's single peak, rising from the apex of the valley's dented wall. He could hear falling water, and he saw the thin blade of a river flash behind the largest of the buildings, a huge six-sided construction with a green-furred copper dome and wings extending from three of the sides like an crippled insect.

None of the buildings were even remotely similar to each other. The nearest to the party was low and wide, with half of the second floor exposed to the elements. Furthest away, stepped levels crept up the cliff-face beside the enormous double-archway that led down into the Ismess quarter of the Circle City. There were dozens of figures in white visible, mostly without wings but all blonde — pure-blood Litse. Amber recalled his briefings; it was usually only the white-eyes who carried weapons, but clearly the presence of Lord Styrax and his attendants had stirred them up, for all the adult males nearby were armed, despite looking somewhat awkward.

'Remarkable,' Nai said, moving up beside him. He held his hand out, fingers splayed, and moved it through the air as though dipping his fingers into a stream, 'Nothing, nothing at all.'

'Looks good to me,' Kayel commented, grinning evilly at Ruhen as he spoke. 'I'll lake it.'

'Nothing at all?' Amber echoed, ignoring Kayel's contribution. For a moment he didn't realise what Nai was talking about. 'Oh, of course.'

Some unknown quirk in the formation of the library exploited the fact that just as some places were high in background magic, others were starved. The Library of the Seasons was one such place; magic simply would not work there. Try as he might, Nai would find no energies to draw from the air around him.

'I hadn't realised it would be like this,' he said, shivering. 'The air's so dry it tastes like sand on the wind. It's like suddenly having the colour blue erased from your sight.' Nai looked utterly bewildered; he didn't even notice the sharp look the duchess gave him.

'Well, get over it,' Amber urged him, and forced himself to look away from the awe-inspiring sight. 'There's work to do. Kiallas, can you tell me where I'll find Lord Styrax?'

'I am to escort you all to the Scholars' Palace so you may refresh yourselves.' Kiallas said, pointing to the tall building hugging the cliff-face, seven or eight storeys high with long balconies running the length of each floor. The white-eye looked at Amber with a mixture of disdain and faint contempt.

'I don't need an escort,' Amber said, trying not to let the white-eye arrogance irritate him, 'just point me in the right direction.'

'Visitors must be escorted at all times.'

'Fetch an escort then,' Amber said shortly. He pointed towards the largest of the buildings, the copper-domed one. It was called the Fearen House, where the library's collection of grimoires and treatises on magic were housed. If Lord Styrax was anywhere he was most likely to be nosing around those. 'We're going that way.'

Amber set off down the steps with Nai trailing along behind. He heard a fluttering sound and another winged white-eye, of lower rank judging by his armour, scampered over. With the sense of a weight lifting, Amber left the duchess and her bodyguard behind, their voices soon fading into the wind. He felt like shaking his body out like a dog, elated to be free of the oppressive tunnel and unpleasant company. It was hard to decide which one unnerved him most: Kayel, with his malevolent demeanour, or Ruhen, with the shadows in his eyes, but the fresh air was all the sweeter for being rid of the pair of them.

'What's that?' Nai asked when they reached the massive building, pointing at a dark stone monument at the base of the steps leading up to the portico. Beyond it was a crescent-shaped hump of ground twice the height of a man and more than twenty yards long.

'The Failed Argument,' Amber said, 'a monument to Kebren. The curved rock is called The Dragon, it's supposed to be the guardian spirit of the library.'

Their guard sniffed in annoyance. 'It is not called the Failed Argument,' he said. The white-eye was young and, though still taller than Amber, lacking any of Kiallas's glowering presence. 'It is the grave of an unknown Fysthrall who witnessed the death of Leitah, Goddess of Wisdom. The monument is to her memory, not to the patron God of the Fysthrall.'

'A monument to the failure of reason over violence then,' Nai mused. He walked around the oblong block of granite, looking for a seam in the rock and finding none. Unlike the buildings, the monument had been cut from the dark stone of Blackfang itself. Its surfaces had been smoothed and engraved with many lines of flowing script, but the dialect was too ancient for either of them to understand.

'Is he underneath?' Nai asked, looking at the paved ground at the base.

'Encased within the rock,' the Litse replied, not trying to hide his annoyance. 'Treat it with care, this library was founded according to his writings — my ancestors were charged by him with keeping the memory of Leitah alive.'

'Encased within the rock?'

Amber could see Nai assessing the monument, trying to work out how it had been made. He's not like Isherin Purn, he realised, necromancy isn't about power for this one. He's just so inquisitive he doesn't know when to stop!

'It must have been done in the city then,' Nai concluded. Without warning he reached up and hooked his fingers on the top of the monument. Their escort gave an indignant screech but Nai ignored him, pulling himself up so his head was above the level of the monument.

The white-eye pulled a javelin from his waist and raising it, ready to throw until Amber grabbed his arm.

'Nai, get down,' Amber ordered, The white-eye tried to twist out of his grip, but flight required him to be slender and light-boned, like a hawk, and Amber had the advantage of weight on his side. The Litse hissed in frustration and went fpr his dagger, at which point Amber gave him a hefty shove that sent the youth reeling backwards, wings unfurled and outstretched as he tried to regain his balance.

'Did you recognise the unknown soldier?' came a voice from the steps. Kastan Styrax stood there, in front of a mixed group.

Amber dropped to one knee.

'Well? I can see there's a face carved on the top, is it anyone you recognise?' Amber could hear the laughter in his lord's voice. Throughout history the Menin had never been able to resist bating the fussy, humourless Litse. For some reason it pleased Amber to realise his lord was not immune to that impulse, a rare glimpse of humanity in one normally remote and unknowable.

'Rings a bell, my Lord,' Nai replied cheerfully, prompting Amber to wince at the necromancer's blithe irreverence. 'I'm not saying I've got drunk with the man, but there's something about the eyes that's familiar.'

Their guard gave another squawk of outrage, but this time he only looked up at the steps for instruction. There was another Litse white-eye beside Lord Styrax, bigger than Kiallas, with flashes of gold on his ornate armour. He was watching the proceedings with a frown, but he so far he had refrained from getting involved. Now, as he started down the steps, Lord Styrax said quietly, 'Heel, Gesh.'

It was the first time in a while Amber had seen his lord out of armour; even a white-eye as strong as Kastan Styrax would find a full suit tiring in this valley, so he had opted instead for something more suitable for a nobleman. He wore an expensively tailored cream tunic with red braiding, and red leather cavalry boots, as strange a sight on a white-eye as the rings he wore, diamonds and rubies flashing from his scarred left hand. Behind him walked General Gaur and Kohrad. The young white-eye looked less ostentatious than his father for once in a black brigandine. From the expression on Kohrad's face, he had more than baiting Litse on his mind as he stared with undisguised hostility at his father's escort. Amber could tell the slim, aloof Gesh was well-aware of the scrutiny but did not deign to take note.

'Amber, what is your strange friend's name?'

'My name is Nai, my Lord,' the necromancer said before Amber could reply, bowing briefly.

'I don't remember speaking to you,' Lord Styrax said. 'Remember your place or Major Amber will cut that lopsided grin off your face.'

Nai's smile faltered as he realised there wasn't a trace of humour in Styrax's words.

'Now, Amber: talk.'

Amber bowed to the correct depth. 'The servant of Isherin Purn, my Lord -1 mentioned him in my report, but clearly I was mistaken in my assumption he had died.' He hesitated and looked Styrax direct in the eye. 'My Lord, he has news you should hear.'

Styrax nodded. 'I understand.' He glanced back up at the entrance to the Fearen House, set behind a colonnade of eight enormous pillars standing sixty feet high. The main entrance was a brass-fronted door some thirty feet high, polished to a shine at the expense of whatever image had once been imprinted onto the metal. 'Come with me,' he ordered.

They ascended the steps and entered, Amber checking his pace to glance at the bas-reliefs of winged warriors on each side of the door before following Lord Styrax in. The Fearen House had high windows of stained glass on each of the six walls: two thin windows alongside the entrances to each wing and three enormous ones on the other walls. They filled the massive central space with tinted light, adding colour to a drab day. Above the windows were drapes of richly coloured cloth, gold-edged flags of bright red punctuating long swathes of flowing blue.

The Menin weren't the only visitors to the library. A few scholars were leaning over some of the half-dozen U-shaped desks below the dome, where lecterns on two sides were angled towards the scholar in the centre so he could study the enormous leather-bound books. Two men and a woman looked up at the sound of feet before averting their gaze quickly, at which Amber allowed himself a small smile.

The prohibition on weapons doesn't seem as effective in the presence of a man double the weight and a foot taller than a normal man.

Lord Styrax ignored the looks and continued on into the very centre of the room. Amber looked around at the huge room; he'd not before been in a temple as large as this and it was undoubtedly as magnificent as any room he'd ever seen, even if the dome above did lack the gold ornamentation he'd expect in a Temple of Death. There was the dry scent of book dust on the air, and solid blocks of bookcases protruded out into the room on all sides. Arcane symbols were carved into every available wooden surface of the bookcases and armed guards were posted at every door.

Lord Styrax had stopped in the very centre of the room. Amber caught him up and stood at his side.

'Do you know what that is?' Lord Styrax said in a soft voice. The Fearen House was as quiet as a temple at prayer, its few devotees bent silently over their icons of worship.

Amber looked at the object: a five-sided column of black granite, two feet high and one foot square, with the corners smoothed down and the whole thing polished to an almost mirror shine. In the centre of its flat top was a half-sphere which, for no reason Amber could tell, appeared to be solid gold. A tiny script was etched both into stone and gold, so small Amber had to bend down before he realised it was not a language he could read. It took him a while to work out what the language was: single or grouped geometric runes cut at one depth, overlaid with a shallower, more flowing style, like scroll-work on a picture frame — Elvish, the first mortal language, made up of a hundred and twenty-one angular core runes and five hundred and five lesser, to which the flowing script added detail, case and tense.

'It's called the Heart of the Library,' Lord Styrax said, anticipating the soldier's response.

Amber straightened again. 'Does it do anything? That's Elvish, isn't it?'

'Not as far as I can tell, and of course no magic works here.'

'Why write in Elvish then?' He frowned. 'I thought folk only used the language for magic, that it was the best representation for channelling energy? You don't write secrets in it and leave them in a bloody library where there are the resources, and scholars, to translate it.'

'The script is apparently a poem, one that is so obscure it most likely contains a code. They call it the puzzle of the heart.'

Amber looked up at his lord. Without warning the hairs on his neck prickled, as they did when he suspected he was not in control of a situation.

What sort of a conqueror gets distracted in a library, however magnificent? Karkarn's horn, is conquest not your goal?

'Have you broken the code?' Amber asked in a hoarse whisper.

Lord Styrax smiled in a way he had never seen before: in genuine pleasure. The huge white-eye rarely showed his true emotions and Amber gave a cough of surprise as Styrax replied, 'I will start today; none of my investigations have managed to procure a transcription. All I have heard is that the code is fiendishly difficult and reveals a surprising truth — the few individuals who have managed to decode it all refused to reveal the answer and destroyed their working.'

'And you've come to test yourself against it?' Amber asked. Duke Vrill had said once that had Lord Styrax not been born a white-eye or a mage, he would have become a renowned scholar all the same.

Styrax inclined his head. 'How could I resist such a challenge? Since I could not find a transcription, I spent my time researching the object itself. I suspect the code's creator never expected a more practical approach to the mystery.'

Amber looked puzzled. Clearly Lord Styrax had a point, but he had no idea what it was. If he wanted Amber to work something out he'd need another scrap of information.

'I've been looking at their records,' Styrax continued after a moment. 'There is an allusion to the heart of your unknown soldier being encased within, but no explanation as to why he would donate his heart for this purpose. What's more, according to the ancient records, Deverk Grast spent a few days here after he sacked Ismess, during what he termed the grand finale of the scouring. One night he walked out of those doors, called off the slaughter and began to draw up his plans for the Long March instead; the turning point in our tribe's history. All very strange, wouldn't you say?'

Amber gave a helpless shrug. 'Ah, yes, sir, I suppose so.'

Every Menin child learned about the Long March, the exodus of the Menin tribe to the Ring of Fire. Approximately half had died on the two-year journey across the Waste but there was only ever conjecture and propaganda given as Grast's reasoning.

Lord Styrax gave him a pat on the shoulder. 'Don't worry, you won't have to sit here and help me with the code; just stay long enough to tell me what could not wait.'

Amber glanced back. The winged white-eye, Gesh, was watching them impassively from beside one of the bookcases, his feathers brushing its shelves. He cleared his throat, trying to speak as quietly as possible in the echoing room.

'A few things of great importance. First of all; more people survived the fall of Scree than I had realised, Haipar the Shapeshifter for one. I was sure she'd died but now it appears she's a nursemaid in the employ of the duchess.'

Lord Styrax gave a sharp bark of laughter. The sound echoed around the room but by the time faces looked up in surprise his face was blank again. Amber felt his cheeks colour as though he'd been the one to laugh. Despite being noble-born, he had never felt at ease in genteel surroundings.

'Are they all this surprising?' Styrax asked.

Amber nodded. 'Secondly, Zhia Vukotic is in the city, or so Nai claims. Apparently she has some influence over the duchess's chief advisor and made sure he was aware of it.'

'Hardly a surprise; you said Haipar was one of her agents in Scree, no? It's far from surprising the vampire has more than one in place.'

'True, but I thought I should tell you she made the contact. The last thing is the strangest; I don't know whether what I've made of it is even correct.'

Lord Styrax raised his eyebrows. 'Your own puzzle of the heart?'

'The duchess has a bodyguard, a new sergeant in the Ruby Guard called Kayel. He bears a basic similarity to me, nothing more, and yet it even brought me up short. For a moment I thought I had looked into the mirror, and Nai felt the same. He didn't have time to investigate but he confirmed there was some sort of trace magic linking us.'

'And you've not met him before?' Lord Styrax mused. 'A pretty little puzzle indeed; do you have a solution to it?'

Amber shifted uneasily. 'Perhaps. That is- I don't really know.'

'Tell me.'

'King Emin's agent, Doranei — he came to Zhia Vukotic to ask about the prisoners she'd taken after the fight at the necromancer's house: us. Afterwards, he kept a watch on me out of the corner of his eye, even though she'd proved it was impossible for him to have known anyone there.'

'And so you are thinking, what if he was reminded of Kayel because of this link?' Lord Styrax continued. 'A good deduction. You said the Farlan knew nothing of the necromancer, nor did Narkang?'

'Exactly, and Zhia wouldn't have been playing those games, which leaves only Azaer's disciples in my mind. They were the ones intent on stirring up chaos in Scree, after all, and to hear Doranei tell it, King Emin's been waging a silent war with the shadow for years.'

'Azaer,' Lord Styrax breathed, as though savouring the word. 'That would make times interesting. You think the lovely duchess is under Azaer's control?'

'From what I saw, she's not all there these days. It's as if she's too wrapped up in that child she's adopted. She brought it with her today,' he added.

'A child?'

'A boy, Ruhen she called him. About five winters, I'd guess. Haven't heard the brat say a word myself, it just stands there and watches in silence.' Amber scowled. 'Something not right with him either,' he added. 'Too quiet for a child, too still.'

'A good vehicle for exerting influence over her,' Lord Styrax mused, 'but to what end?'

'Sounds like she's tearing apart the cults in Byora; the situation looked worse than even our reports had suggested. Folk are scared in that quarter, and her troops are on the street corners, not the walls.'

Lord Styrax exhaled slowly, deep in thought. 'It would then follow that Azaer's intent is drive a wedge between the Gods and the masses. Perhaps it went too far in Scree and couldn't control the storm it had created, so it's trying again here, with a little more subtlety. My concern with that theory is that it's a time- and disciple-consuming process, considering what you said about the minstrel dying with the city. Does this shadow really have the power to run such an operation in every city of the Land?'

'Couldn't it be working one by one?' Amber asked. 'The shadow seems to be immortal, so time isn't against it. Why doesn't it trot along quietly, running the operations and recruiting in parallel? Could that be the purpose of the Azaer cult they were talking about, a recruiting ground?'

'I think you're right there, yes. But King Emin is a mortal and running against the years,' Lord Styrax pointed out. 'Given the chance to tackle the same tactic from a different angle, the man would surely find a way — especially since Azaer is taking a rather prominent position in Byoran politics. Every report we've had from Narkang has stressed we do not underestimate King Emin's intellect, no matter how unlucky we were sending the White Circle after him.'

Styrax looked thoughtful for a moment, the hint of a smile on his face. 'I suspect this shadow has a little more imagination than to use the same trick twice, and it lacks the strength to risk being so predictable. The powerful man can batter down the doors of his enemies; the weak man must find a new ploy for each.

'I think we should go and meet this little scamp who looks like you.' He clapped a massive hand onto Amber's armoured shoulder. 'Time for lunch, Major.'