The Twilight herald

CHAPTER 20

Wakefulness crept uneasily over Mikiss, beginning with an ache behind his eyes and growing into a dull pain that reached through his skull and down his spine. Though his eyes were closed, he still tried to recoil from the light that pierced his eyelids and sparked a strange sense of fear. He tried to move, and discovered that his hands were bound behind his back and his muscles almost cried with fatigue, as though he had been running through the night. His lips were crusted and he moaned with the effort needed to breathe in the dusty sweat-laced air. Exhausted beyond belief, he slumped back down.

He felt something touch his brow. Whatever it was, it felt hot and rasping on his skin, and as he flinched away from it he smelled a man near him, a scent of dirt and grease. Then a waft of perfume, near-imperceptible, reached him from further away. As he tried to recog¬nise it, Mikiss realised how parched his throat was. From somewhere on the other side of the room a chair scraped. He felt it through the stone floor on which he was lying as much as heard it, then sandpaper hands cradled his head and raised him up.

'Awake at last. You must be thirsty.' A woman's voice plucked a string inside him.

Mikiss tried to reply, but nothing came out except a wheeze. He recognised Nai as the person holding him when the necromancer's servant said crossly, 'Damn you, woman, after all you've done to him, you tease him about it?'

'Oh, quiet now,' the strange woman replied tartly. 'Just because your hands are untied doesn't mean your tongue can run loose; if it happens again, Legana will cut it out.'

Mikiss heard the swish of her skirts as the woman walked closer. 'Here, give him some wine to drink. It won't satisfy him, but 1 need him to speak a little more coherently.'

A goblet was held to his lips and Mikiss slurped greedily. When he finally managed to force his encrusted eyes open, the room was nothing more than a blur for a moment, then the outlines of people started to take shape. After a few moments he could make out Major Amber, bound as he was, lying in a corner, and two women standing before a covered window. Groggily, he sat up and tried to focus on the speaker, the woman who'd faced down Isherin Purn.

'What have you done to me?' Mikiss croaked. 'Feels like I've been drugged. How long did I sleep?'

'You slept most of the day, the sun is on its way down now.'

Mikiss winced as he looked at the light behind her. 'Then why is it so bright?'

'Because what I did to you was rather more permanent than drug¬ging,' she said, shrugging. 'You are my prisoners, but I don't care much for interrogation; it's messy, noisy and unreliable.'

He looked up at Nai for answers and saw the strange manservant had a thunderous look on his face. Whatever she'd done, it was bad enough that even the prospect of mutilation would not cow the man.

'I don't understand,' he rasped. 'Why the light? And who are you.''

She sighed. 'How discourteous of me. My name is Zhia Vukotic, and I hope you enjoyed the dawn yesterday, because it is the last you'll ever see.'

'What?' Mikiss tried to rise, but was betrayed by exhaustion. He fell back against Nai, and as he did so, he felt something around bis neck, a bandage of some kind. He stayed silent for a few moments, then almost sobbed, 'You've-'

'I've shared my curse with you, yes,' Zhia Vukotic told him tin patiently. 'Nai, please check the wound.'

The servant growled, but deftly unwrapped the length of material around Mikiss' neck. As he peered down, Mikiss saw his eyes widen and he mouthed a curse before releasing Mikiss and letting him fall to the floor.

'It's almost healed,' Nai said as Mikiss groaned.

'Excellent. Now, Messenger – Mikiss – you can fight this, or you can accept what has happened and get on with it,' the woman said, almost preening. 'It doesn't really matter, because my power over you Is now absolute. You will answer my questions, so the only mallei for debate is how much discomfort you wish to endure before you do so. Do you understand?.''

Mikiss stared at her with a glazed expression. When he turned to

Nai, the servant looked both horrified and disgusted, echoed on Major

Amber's face.

'While we're on the subject of the current state of play, you will all do better if you accept that I own you now. You have committed capital offences in Scree – spying and necromancy – so your lives are forfeit. I offer you clemency, in the form of servitude.' She looked at the woman beside her. 'As Legana knows, I share my secrets only with those who have secrets of their own, but since I can hardly trust any of you yet, I have taken the precaution of placing a small enchant¬ment on you, to prevent you repeating anything said in my presence. Do you understand?'

Mikiss looked at his companions. Nai, still defiant, said nothing; the major just shrugged his shoulders, as though a change of master meant little.

'What do you want with us?' Mikiss asked.

'You will tell me about your mission in Scree,' she said. 'After that, I'm sure I will find a use for you.'

'And if we don't tell you?'

'You no longer have the choice,' she said apologetically, 'not now the wound on your neck has healed.'

Mikiss' hand flew to his neck. The skin was a little tender, but he could feel no injury.

'My curse has you fully in its grip now,' she went on, watching his exploration, 'and it is now a small matter to compel you to speak, or to do exactly as I wish. So let us start. Tell me about your mission in Scree.'

As Zhia spoke those last words, Mikiss felt as though his head had been seized in a vice and wrenched upwards. The blood fizzed and boiled as he fought to keep his mouth closed; black and purple stars burst in front of his eyes until, through no volition of his own, he felt his mouth open and words began to pour out.

It didn't take long, for Lord Styrax had told Mikiss little more than his immediate task: to find the necromancer Isherin Purn in Scree and either secure an artefact of great power from him, or through him, on Lord Styrax's behalf, obviously, or report back on how to acquire it. The necromancer had told him little more in the brief time they were together, for he was intent on hearing all about the Menin conquest of Thotel.

When Mikiss had finished his uncontrolled babbling, the vampire looked far from satisfied.

'So the necromancer said nothing more, other than that he was sure there was a Crystal Skull in the city?'

'He was not so foolish as to go hunting for the bearer of such a weapon,' Nai interjected. 'Either it would be in the hands of a prac¬tised user, in which case his strength would not be enough, or not, in which case the wielder would most likely use it with abandon, and be unable to control the energies released.'

'He could not tell which?' Zhia pressed.

'He suspected a novice, since he had detected experiments per¬formed with the Skull.'

'So when the opportunity came,' mused Zhia, 'he asked his former lord for help, no doubt hoping Styrax would send someone foolish enough to do the confrontation for him. The most likely outcome would be the death of all those involved, leaving Isherin Purn to skip through the ashes and claim his prize.'

For reasons Mikiss could not fathom, this cheered the woman immensely. She announced breezily, 'So, we have someone running around the city with a Crystal Skull. Legana, why am 1 not sur¬prised?'

The pretty dark-haired woman looked taken aback at being addressed, but she said at once, 'Because it confirms some things and explains others. If you'll forgive my presumption, I'm rather more interested in Purn's original mission in the West.' She looked at Mikiss. 'Did you say he was Malich's apprentice?'

Mikiss didn't reply until Zhia turned back to him, whereupon the words spilled out unbidden. 'His apprentice, yes, sent to stir up trouble within the Farlan. I don't know any more.'

'Who does?'

'Nai.'

Legana turned to the necromancer's apprentice, who remained sul¬lenly silent. Zhia gave a hiss of irritation. 'Perhaps I turned the wrong one? It can be rectified easily enough if you don't start to speak now, and I will know if you lie.'

Nai hesitated a moment, then shrugged, Isherin Purn was once an acolyte of Lord Salens at the Hidden Tower. He used his position with Malith to torment Lord Bahl with dreams of his dead bride.'

'in what end?' Legana broke in, taking a step towards Nai.

'To gain control over him,' Nai said bleakly. 'They made him believe he could resurrect her. It was the only way Lord Styrax could draw Lord Bahl away from his armies and kill him.'

'Oh Gods, of course!' the woman breathed. Mikiss looked at her, surprised at the emotional response, and suddenly realised she was most likely Farlan. Yet another spy caught up in Zhia's games? 'He used the Chetse Krann to remove Lord Chalat, but when Styrax planned it all, the Farlan had no Krann and he had only Lord Bahl's own weaknesses to use against him.'

Nai gave a snort, unable to restrain a proud smile. 'And a remark¬able feat of magic it was too, to confound someone so old and power¬ful,' he said.

'You helped him do this?' Legana demanded.

'Certainly. I helped my master in a-'

Before Nai could finish, Legana had grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. He gasped in pain and grabbed for her arm, but she whipped a dagger from her belt and clubbed him with the pommel.

Nai howled and clouted her around the head with his other hand, but she retaliated by kicking him in the crotch and, when he doubled over in pain, a knee to the face sent him crashing down.

'Enough!' Zhia shouted, the word echoing through the room with such force that Mikiss winced and strained against his bonds in an at¬tempt to cover his ears. 'Children, children,' the vampire continued, her voice a caress, 'this is no playground, and you will not fight unless I say so. Is that quite clear? There are rather more-' She stopped at a crash from elsewhere in the building; a door was being smashed open, and there were angry voices.

'I fear the subtle hand of our fair ruler,' Zhia sighed. 'I'm surprised it has taken Siala so long to decide that I must be to blame for the events of last night. On the subject of Lord Styrax's conquest, I understood the tunnel under the mountains had been destroyed, and who else but Lord Styrax in those parts has the power to do such a thing? So if he was aware of the tunnel, he was also aware of the Fysthrall; could it be coincidence that Lord Styrax dealt so effectively with the two most powerful lords of the West, while King Emin, the other great ruler in these parts, was attacked by the White Circle over some obscure prophecy? Is he really so adept, I wonder?' A mixture of admiration and puzzlement crossed Zhia's face.

The noises resolved themselves into voices arguing outside the room. 'A discussion for another time, I think. Legana; open the doors so Siala can glide straight in, or the drama of her entrance will be lost while she waits for a servant to do it for her.'

The Farlan woman obeyed, and Mikiss heard another woman bark¬ing orders, followed by the clatter of footsteps coming towards them.

'Mistress Ostia, 1 hope you are not overly taxed by relaxing at home while my city collapses into a Gods-cursed wasteland!' Siala cried as she swept into the centre of the room, ignoring Legana, bowing rather i nelegantly, and the bound prisoners sprawled across the floor.

'On the contrary, Mistress Siala, I have spent the entire night restoring order to large parts of the city,' Zhia said. 'This wretched necromancer had an inordinate number of daemons and local spirits bound to him, and tracking them all down was not an easy task.'

'I hope you have an explanation for all this,' Siala demanded, not in the least mollified.

'An explanation?' Zhia said coldly. 'For what, precisely?'

'For why a necromancer was able to set up residence in my city without you or your agents finding out about it; how you managed to get there so quickly with a detachment of troops and how you never theless allowed the entire situation to spiral out of control, letting daemons run wild through my city.' Siala's face was scarlet with fury; any trace of the calm control she'd once possessed was gone. 'There are still mobs roaming the streets, attacking people at random, accus ing normal people of being daemons and setting fire to them!'

'None of which is my fault,' Zhia replied softly, dangerously. 'I have the entire city guard out trying to regain order. There is very little more I can do without troops, and the only soldiers in the city an- not under my command.'

'Don't you think soldiers would merely exacerbate the situation?' Siala growled, stalking up and down the room, neatly avoiding Zhla's prisoners.

'It depends how they are handled,' Zhia said. 'Without strong con-trol, there will be massive loss of life, but they are still the best way to keep order on the streets.'

Siala paused for a moment in her pacing, then the ghost ol a smile appeared. 'I am glad we are of the same mind. As of this moment, martial law is declared. There will be a strict curfew after nightfall, and I have ordered the Third Army into the city to enforce it.'

'The entire Third Army? The Fysthrall soldiers will panic the popu¬lace even more,' Zhia said quietly.

'I doubt that,' Siala said. 'It might shock them into thinking twice before they riot again. I believe the Appearance and superior discipline of my Fysthrall troops will quieten the city in a way you have proved unable to manage.'

'And my city guard?' Zhia asked, refusing to rise.

'Shall be posted at the Greengate, where all city supplies will now enter the city. That will be the only open gate to the city. Your aides will be based there, in charge of keeping us all fed. These are your prisoners from last night?' she said, rounding on Mikiss abruptly.

'They are. I was in the middle of interrogating them, to discover where the necromancer had escaped to.'

Siala made a dismissive gesture. 'Don't worry about him; I have him.'

'What? How did you catch him?' Zhia's usual calm slipped momen¬tarily, much to Siala's apparent pleasure.

'He made his way to the Red Palace last night, looking for my pro¬tection – specifically, for protection from you. He tells me that your skills as a mage are rather more advanced than you led me to believe – and that you and he have crossed paths before… which prompts me to ask what else you have kept from me.' Siala gave Mikiss a cursory inspection as she waited, then appeared to lose interest. She turned back to Zhia.

The vampire was thinking quickly. The necromancer wouldn't have disclosed her true identity yet; he'd keep that for when he really needed it, so it made sense to say he had come into conflict with her before. Now she needed to know exactly what he had told Siala, and exactly what threat the wretched woman thought she was.

'He must have mistaken me for someone else then; perhaps I over¬estimated the man,' she said after a few moments. 'I was going to suggest we bind him to your service, but if he is so weak as to be afraid of me, then it might not be worthwhile.'

'Perhaps,' Siala acknowledged, refusing the bait, 'but I think I may find some use for a man capable of raising daemons; we are preparing for attack, after all.' Siala turned to leave. At the door she stopped and ran a fingernail down the lacquered surface, tapping it thought¬fully. 'The sun is setting soon, Mistress Ostia. Recall your guard – and do be careful not to wander the streets at night. I have instructed the Fysthrall troops to be most rigorous in the execution of their orders.'

She didn't wait for a response but walked out through the crowd of clerks and Fysthrall bodyguards she'd left in the corridor. Legana was quick to pull the doors closed behind her, anticipating a furious outburst, but Zhia did nothing more than walk to a side table, above which hung a tall rectangular mirror in a frame of gilt leaves.

'So, she thinks to put me under house arrest?' she said softly.

'That's hardly going to be a problem,' Legana said. 'Running rings around her soldiers isn't going to cause us many difficulties.'

'I'm not so sure,' Zhia said. 'She's testing me; she wants to see the true extent of my powers. It wouldn't surprise me if Purn himself offered to help her.'

'Is she going to try to kill you?'

'No, not yet,' Zhia said, 'not while the Farlan are getting ready to attack. She cannot afford to lose any mage yet, and I've been careful to give her no cause to see me as a definite threat.'

She smiled, and Mikiss felt it through the hairs on his neck. An echo of her hunger caused his chest to tighten. As the evening light laded, he found his eyes growing sharper; the gloom of the unlit room began to suit him well. Being this close to Zhia let him sense some¬thing of her unnatural vitality…

The smell of blood wafted tantalisingly past his nose: Nai had picked at a scabbed-over cut. Mikiss shivered at the feelings the smell provoked. As he tried to block it out, his gaze kept returning to Zhia, marking every small detail, from the curve of her lips to the trailing thread hanging from the hem of her skirt, from the raised toe of her slipper-

The latch on the door clicked open and jerked Mikiss from his scrutiny as a muscular woman with grey hair entered, a soldier at her heel. The man walked uncomfortably, as though he'd just come from;i good kicking. Mikiss felt his nostrils flare; no fresh blood on this man; the injuries were not new.

'Mistress Ostia,' the woman said, looking carefully around the room us though anticipating an ambush of some sort, 'you have a visitor.'

The soldier faltered when Zhia called out in honeyed tones, 'My dear Doranei, can you not bear to be apart from me?'

The man stopped when he saw the bound men and carefully inspec-led their laces before he allowed himself to look at Zhia's shining eyes. 'I come on official business; we heard you took prisoners last night.'

'Indeed I did. Were you looking for someone in particular?'

'A man seen entering that house,' he replied grimly, taking a hope¬ful step towards Amber for a closer look.

An old friend of yours?' Zhia asked in a rather more business-like tone. Doranei gave a curt nod. 'Then you are mistaken; none of the men in that house could have been known to you.'

'You're certain?'

Absolutely It appears you have been misled.' The emphasis was not lost on Doranei, and he didn't argue further. 'The occupant of the house was a Menin necromancer,' she went on. 'These were the men seen entering the house, along with two more acting as their guards.'

A necromancer who won't last long once Lord Isak reaches the city,' Legana interjected darkly.

Mikiss blinked. Were Zhia Vukotic and the Farlan allies or not?

'Lord Isak? But he's here already,' Doranei said. 'He arrived yester¬day, with a small bodyguard.'

'Lord Isak is in the city?' Zhia looked taken aback. 'That confirms all my suspicions: there is some force drawing the powerful into Scree. I am surprised the Chosen of Karkarn are not also here.'

That last was directed at Mikiss, who ducked his head to avoid Zhia's eyes, yet still couldn't stop himself saying, 'Lord Styrax is busy in Thotel, his son has been the victim of some sort of magical attack and Lord Cytt has been dead for months now – it's rumoured that your brother killed him.'

Zhia raised an eyebrow. A magical attack? How interesting; I think we shall have to discuss that at greater length – but for the moment we have Scree to deal with. Siala is becoming an irritation to me. I lack the patience for her games, and now I see an opportunity. Killing Siala myself might leave me having to vie with the other sisters of the White Circle for control of the city, so better that someone else kills her so they have no recourse but to come running to me to take over the leadership.'

And you think to use my lord to do that?' Legana asked, anger rising in her voice.

'My dear, it would hardly be using him against his will,' Zhia prom¬ised. 'Once you make your report, I am sure Lord Isak will be hard to dissuade – and that I anticipate his reaction and profit by it is hardly using the man to my own ends.'

'Why would Lord Isak want to kill Siala?' Doranei asked, looking lost.

'Because Siala has the necromancer; no doubt she believes him to be a useful weapon for protection, rather than the means of her own destruction.' Zhia smiled at the irony. 'Try not to kill anyone if you break the curfew, Legana.'

'You won't need to,' said Doranei. 'He'll be at the theatre tonight. Only the southern districts are under curfew from nightfall; for the rest of the city the curfew ends half an hour after final curtain so the show can continue.'

'Under the circumstances, that shouldn't really surprise me,' mused Zhia. 'You are a fount of useful information tonight, aren't you?' She stroked the man's cheek, a predatory smile on her lips. 'And I see you're recovering your strength swiftly. I look forward to seeing you In complete health.'

As Doranei blushed and struggled to find the words to reply, she turned again to the mirror. She cradled a small bag that hung at her waist and whispered what to Mikiss sounded like an incantation, though he could not make out the actual words. He felt the air thicker and a curtain of shadow descended over her reflection, growing darker with every moment, until he could hardly make out any detail. She ended her chanting and leaned forward to stare into the murkiness.

For a few heartbeats, nothing happened. Mikiss frowned, trying to work out what was happening to the mirror when he started to recognise a shape, the lines tracing a different pattern, overlaying the images of Zhia and Legana that he'd originally been able to see. Now the sweep of Zhia's hair had become the curve of a man's neck and the line of her shawl was the edge of a swordbelt running across his.chest.

The man, wreathed in shadows, peered forward with a puzzled ex-pression, then stepped up out of the mirror onto the little table.

Mikiss recoiled as the man entered the room. The newcomer was dressed in dark but expensive clothes: a nobleman on campaign. The enormous sword strapped to his back radiated a brutal ugliness. It fell like a fire had flared up into a blaze and Mikiss felt his hands begin to tremble at the sudden aura of malevolence that Idled the room, almost drowning out the electric tinge in his head. That, and the clear family resemblance, told Mikiss the newcomer was one ol Zhia's brothers, The effect ol both in the room together meant Mikiss could suddenly hear his own heartbeat drum loud in his ears. His head swam and he struggled to keep sitting upright.

The man had the dark blue eyes prevalent amongst the Vukotic; Mikiss had seen traders visiting Menin lands with the same distinc¬tive look. Even in the gloaming, Mikiss could make out that strange cobalt colour that seemed to glow with a faint inner light. Oh Gods, is it Koezh or Vorizh? Mikiss thought to himself as his fear subsided on a note of black humour. The Land has truly fallen into madness when a sensible man hopes it is Koezh Vukotic standing in front of him.

He stared at the man, racking his brain until he remembered Vorizh was rumoured to be the greatest of spies; no man ever saw him enter a room, and none could track him down. Would that extend to his sister?

'More pets?' the man asked, looking intently at Mikiss. 'You're collecting quite a menagerie: shapeshifters, Farlan beauties, Menin spies-' He frowned as he saw Nai and added, 'Curiously battered mages with odd-sized feet.' The necromancer's assistant scowled and shifted uncomfortably, still suffering from Legana's kick.

'Considering Scree's residents, it's a modest selection,' Zhia said. 'Now, I have need of you, o brother mine.'

'I thought you didn't want me in the city?'

'I didn't, Koezh, but the situation has changed.'

'Changed? How?' Koezh walked into the centre of the room, in¬specting Legana and Doranei. Mikiss had no idea what he was looking for, but after a while Koezh gave Doranei a slight nod of greeting. The soldier blanched, but returned the nod, despite his obvious apprehen¬sion.

'I have yet to understand quite what is happening here,' Zhia ad¬mitted. 'I'm certain I'm missing a vital detail, but I think it's now clear that whatever is happening in Scree is going to happen. There is nothing I can do to prevent it. The stakes are being raised daily.'

'So you want me on hand for when you need me?'

'Exactly. I can't be sure how many of the city guard and mercenaries will follow me; I believe there is a spell being worked on the whole city, centred about the sunken theatre, that is slowly affecting the people of Scree,' Zhia said.

'Affecting them? In what way?' To Mikiss, Koezh sounded like a well-spoken academic analysing a problem – hardly what he'd expected.

'The city guard reports that violence is rife throughout the city, and it's increasing. Siala has brought in troops to try to control it but the rioting is getting worse. While she hopes that a show of force will intimidate the mob, if things continue this way, no one in this city will have reason to do anything but fight to the death.'

'You believe that will happen to the entire city? No wonder you want the Legion of the Damned waiting for your call.'

'Exactly; there has to be a purpose to all of this, and I intend to be there at the end to do something about it.'

Koezh laughed at the determination in his sister's voice, though his was a voice permanently tinged with sadness. 'I think that runs in the family. How many endings have we witnessed between us?'

'Enough,' Zhia said firmly, 'but I prefer to keep to the present. Siala has pulled the majority of her Fysthrall troops into the city. They were camped south of the city, just off the main road to Helrect, to keep the links between the cities secure. Usefully for you, she has kept the camp restricted. Only a select number of White Circle members were allowed to approach it.'

'So when we clear out the remaining troops in the camp, we'll he left alone.' Koezh gave a nod of acquiescence. '1 understand; we will take the camp tonight.'

Zhia raised a finger to her brother and went to take Doranei by the arm. 'No need to be hasty about it. First I think you should join us for the evening, enjoy a little society while some yet remains in Scree.'

When the evening's light had faded to nothing more than a faint brightness on the eastern horizon, two figures left the cover of the trees to the west of Scree and looked out on the houses beyond, clumps of buildings on dirt streets before the city walls. These rough homes had been erected by those too poor to afford the security ol the city walls.

One of the figures crouched and ran her fingers through the dust on the ground. The stubble of what was once long grass came up easily when she tugged at it, the desiccated stalks crackling and breaking as she rubbed them through her fingers.

This place is dying,' the witch of Llehden said, shaking her head sadly. For one bound so closely to the Land, it was exhausting to be here where the natural life was lading, liven in a desert, there was a balance and flow, but in Scree, that balance had simply collapsed.

'So what can we do here?' her companion asked. He would have looked massive compared to the witch's slender frame, had there been anyone nearby to see them. His long cloak, torn and stained by years of living in the wilds, hid a body as powerfully muscled as a Chetse white-eye. Long, tangled hair covered a strangely proportioned brow and jutting jaw, but it was the midnight-blue colour of his skin that would have attracted the crossbows had they tried to enter the city openly, instead of merely watching others do so.

'You don't have the power to redress the balance; what is it you hope to achieve here?'

'Understanding.' She looked around.

'Of what?'

'Of a threat your father and his ilk cannot understand, Fernal'

Fernal nodded and scratched his cheek with a cruelly hooked talon that explained why he carried no weapons on his belt. The colour of his skin marked him as a Demi-God, an unclaimed child of Nartis. His kind were less common than they had been in previous ages, now there were just a handful walking the Land. Fernal was one who had accepted his lot and lived a quiet, relatively peaceful life away from normal men.

'Azaer has finally shown its hand?'

The witch straightened up and brushed the remaining dust from her hand. 'The shadow's stench hangs over this city; the people are turning against each other. I know of no other mind that turns men inwards and against themselves like this.'

'To what end?'

'I have no idea,' she replied sadly. 'I have never had any contact with Azaer's followers; I have tried only to heal the victims of the shadow's machinations. I feel the shadow is anathema to all I hold dear, and I fear it.'

She used her walking staff to drag a path through the dust. Fernal peered down at the shape she was drawing, his bony brow looking even more crumpled than usual as he tried to make out the symbols.

'Will you try to stop it?'

'Of course. Whether I can or not, I will not stand idly by.' The witch stopped drawing in the dirt and stared at what she had done for a while before she erased it with her toe. She looked up at Fernal, a rare display of concern showing on her face. 'I've seen enough of Azaer's deeds to know that it goes against the balance of the Land; that in itself is enough for me to choose a side. In the last town we passed, they swore priests were being beaten in the street, temples were being burned. Tell me, Fernal, without people to worship them, without temples and priests to glorify them, what are the Gods?'

The blue-skinned figure was looking out over the city. Somewhere behind the walls a lambent glow indicated that the riots had begun early that night. 'Just a voice on the wind,' he replied.

'Well this is an evening for the unexpected,' Koezh commented coolly, walking with Legana on his arm, the perfect nobleman. 'I almost feel like introducing myself to Lord Isak, just to crown the peculiarity of it all.'

At Koezh's side, the young Farlan woman, still trying to hide her discomfort, followed his pointing finger to where a tall figure in a cape stood at the head of a squad of guards.

'1 suspect he would not react well to it. Everyone here is somewbal tense; understandable perhaps, after that repulsive travesty we've just sat through.'

I shouldn't tease her by suggesting such things, Zhia thought as sin-observed Legana, rather surprised at how fond she was of the prickly Farlan agent, but it is fun to watch her stepping out like a countess. I suspect she cares less that my brother is a vampire than that he's a male one!

'The boy was sufficiently respectful when I last met him,' Zhia replied. They were taking a turn around the theatre, ostensibly to avoid the confusion of coaches and sedans crowding around its exit. At her side, rather more comfortable than Legana, Doranei stifled a snort. She gave his hand a squeeze and leaned close to his eat. 'You disagree?'

They stopped at the head of the main street leading into the Shambles. A burning cart illuminated half a dozen Fysthrall soldiers who stood in a nervous knot two hundred yards down the road, flinching behind their shields as stones clattered down on them from every side. Zhia was pleased to notice Doranei couldn't stop hlmseli breathing in her scent before replying.

'I laving spent a few weeks in Lord lsak's company, respectful isn't the first word I'd have used for him,' Doranei said with a faint grin,

'Really? I rather believed you thought highly of the man,' Zhia said. Behind them a handful of guardsmen, Major Amber, Nai and Haipar,

shuffled to a halt. She watched the Fysthrall troops huddling under their shields while they tried to edge away, and briefly wondered if she'd brought enough men with her.

'Oh I do,' Doranei answered hurriedly, 'and I wish I could have gone to greet him tonight – if it had been under other circumstances – but he's a white-eye, and one of the Chosen. I don't think he feels any great need to be respectful to anyone – and it doesn't come naturally to him anyway.' He shot a cautious look at Legana, not wishing to start trouble, but she didn't appear to take umbrage.

'Do you know why he is here,' Koezh asked, 'pretending to be a mercenary bodyguard instead of at the head of an army? From what you told me of Narkang and the White Circle prophecies, he would have justification enough.'

'He was lured here by one of Azaer's agents,' Doranei said.

Azaer?' said Koezh, a little taken aback. 'The false daemon-cult?'

'Azaer exists,' Doranei confirmed. 'It may not be a true daemon, but it's certainly some sort of immortal, albeit an unusual one – Azaer has no form or physical power, unlike normal daemons, but it does have guile. It exists as a shadow only, teasing out the cruelty and arrogance in men for its own purposes. I doubt you'll have come into contact with it, or its followers; the shadow is too weak to risk going near either of you.' He hesitated. 'Well, so King Emin believes, and he's come into conflict with Azaer's followers more than once. Azaer pre¬fers to steal its followers, to use words and magic to turn them against what they once believed in.'

'Which brings us back to this minstrel of yours,' Zhia said. 'I doubt you would have been able to see the wings but he was there tonight, watching the crowd.' She felt Doranei's body tense as she spoke, but pressure on his arm stopped the man from turning around to look at the building. She knew they would be watching her closely now.

'My late arrival has left me without all the facts,' Koezh interrupted, 'and if I'm to play, I need to know everything. We have an immortal that is neither God nor daemon, and you tell me the criminal execu¬ted on stage tonight was no wrongdoer but a priest?'

'Exactly so,' Zhia said, remembering with distaste the final scene of the play they had just watched. It was surely no simple mistake that the theatre troupe had taken the wrong prisoner from the gaol for that night's performance. 'The entire play was a bitter mockery of the Gods, and then instead of using a condemned man as they were supposed to, they killed a priest, one I had put in gaol to cool his temper,' she said bitterly. 'Fate's eyes, the priest had been complaining about the execution of men on stage!'

'And the crowd laughed,' Koezh finished, dismissing the irony with a shake of his black hair. 'Azaer wants to turn the people of the city against the Gods? You said the temples have been all but abandoned in recent weeks, and you've had to post guards to stop people throw-ing things at the priests-'

He was interrupted by a terrific crash from somewhere up ahead, followed by the sound of splintering timber and crumpling walls. Screams and shouts were interspersed with cheers and laughter. Thi¬orange flicker in the night sky fell away as the burning building col-lapsed in on itself, but Zhia could hear a low growl swell menacingly, and she knew the light would soon return.

Footsteps echoed from the dark side streets: men skulking in the shadows, looking for easy prey. They must have decided Zhia's parly was not for them, thanks to her guards, and because she was wearing her white shawl, marking her as a woman of the White Circle. They weren't all mages – only a few had any real ability – but rumour was a powerful tool, and many believed all who wore the shawl had magical powers.

'But what is the goal here?' she wondered aloud. 'There is a very patient mind at work behind all this.'

'It's pretty obvious the actors are no simple band of travelling play ers,' Koezh said. 'Those albino siblings look like gentry to me, and if they're here, in a city, they must have been stolen away from the woods they belonged to – and that, to me, is more remarkable than the presence of mages or Raylin.'

The clump of boots made them turn; two columns of soldiers trot-ted towards them. Seeing Zhia's shawl, the man leading the troops barked an order in their jagged language and the men clattered to a halt. Some were injured and their scaled armour and fat shit-Ids looked rather battered.

Zhia recognised the leader's facial tattoos marking him as an officer bonded by a Fysthrall woman. There were gaps in the ranks, so they must have seen some fighting already tonight. Zhia was intrigued and worried: a mob would have to be in a frenzy to take on real soldier., especially troops as uncompromisingly effieient as the Fysthrall.

'Calling Falcon,' Zhia called, reading his name from his cheek.

She was always a little disappointed that the Fysthrall's methods of subduing a man's spirit were so effective – when a soldier was bonded, he was given an animal's name, for he was no longer a man, but a woman's property, and his new name, his owner's and his army unit were then tattooed onto his face. Crude, Zhia thought to herself, that it worked only confirmed their opinion of their menfolk.

The man bobbed his head in acknowledgement and hurried to her, kneeling immediately. 'Yes, Mistress.'

'You have lost men already tonight?'

'Yes, Mistress; two died in an ambush. We killed many before they were driven off.' His command of the local dialect was excellent, but his accent was thick. He kept his eyes on her feet; this one had been well trained, Zhia realised. He looked about fifty summers – forty parades, in Fysthrall, from the annual ceremony all males performed from the age of ten. She didn't recognise his face or the owner's name so she guessed the woman was either dead or of very low family status.

'Are they attacking anyone, or just soldiers enforcing the curfew?'

'Anyone, Mistress – several of your Sisters have already disappeared this night, I have heard.'

'Well then, you will escort us home,' Zhia said.

'Mistress, I have orders-'

'No longer.' She pointed. 'It's that way.'

.