Sudden laughter rang through Isak's head, so fleeting that he wondered if the last vestiges of sanity Aryn Bwr had retained were gone forever.

Then the voice returned with a chilling clarity. 'You above all know this to be true: you, the weapon both men and G.o.ds tried to forge to their own ends, resulting in well, not what was wanted. Azaer does not forge, but Azaer can see the shape within, because it itself lacks mortal flesh.'

'Where did the shadow lead you?' Isak asked.

'Deep, deep into darkness, down paths that had not been there under Tsatach's fiery eye.'

'Where?' Isak insisted, desperate for concrete information. This mystical litany was beginning to try his patience.

'No place mere mortals could find,' the dead spirit said, oblivious now to everything except his memories, 'no place to be found, except at twilight, where one world meets the next; between the edges of what we know and what we fear. We were three days' ride from where 1 would build Keriabral, on lands my House controlled, though I never found that barrow again. It was outside of time, the link between this life and what lies past Death's final judgment.'

'A barrow,' Isak said, sensing they were getting somewhere useful, 'so you were underground?'

'Down into darkness, into the bowels of the Land, the heart of the Land, a point of balance, a place of harmony and standing stones. Deep; so deep I feared going further would bring me to the six ivory gates of Ghenna itself 'And what did you find?'

'Gifts, links in a chain, twelve means to a thousand ends.'

'Twelve gifts... and there was no price for these gifts?' Isak asked hoa.r.s.ely. He could guess what they were now, for this was a sc.r.a.p of history that made sense at last. Aryn Bwr had been a mage-smith of great power, but weapons that struck fear in the G.o.ds themselves? The ballads and stories of that age told how Aryn Bwr had forged the twelve Crystal Skulls and made gifts of them to his allies. Nowhere did it say how he had managed this, nor from what he had forged them.

'A fool's price, a fool's soul. I paid nothing, but I knew I would not witness the Land I re-forged. I strove for a legacy and it was that they tore from me. I was never driven down the path, only shown the one 1 would choose. My actions were predicted, antic.i.p.ated, by hateful shadows that whisper and laugh in the night... they knew they would have me one day. They were always watching, always waiting, ever-patient for their prize.' He broke off suddenly and Isak felt a chill breeze run through his head.

'In a moment of desperation, 1 gave it, in return for petty revenge,' Aryn Bwr said at last.

'Revenge?'

A memory stirred, one Isak recognised from his dreams. A great fortress crowned by towers as ma.s.sive as the one he had come to know so well in Tirah: Castle Keriabral, Aryn Bwr's fortress, where he should have died until, in a last desperate act, he'd called out a name and secured a completely different fate.

'I remember,' Isak said, subdued. Pain and grief flowed from the dead king's spirit now. It took Isak a moment to shake off the anguish and pursue his original line of questioning.

'What does Azaer want? What links the Skulls to the destruction of Scree?'

'Deeds done openly betray little; done in the shadows, they speak the truth.'

Isak hesitated. All this could be misdirection? Thousands of people are going to die have already died. It cannot be so simple. If Azaer has had only a light hand in events, then it most likely hasn't the strength to become more involved this change in tactics means either it's growing stronger, or it's taking a risk.'

He tailed off as he tried to understand it all. For the hundredth time since his elevation, first to Krann and then to Lord of the Farlan, he cursed his own ignorance. He'd stolen time whenever he could to struggle his way through impenetrable scrolls and ancient books. He was not one who found pleasure in reading, but he knew the worth of knowledge. He had begun to a.s.sociate the scent of leather bindings with a yearning for the breeze in his hair, and the feel of the rough parchment under his fingers brought on a sense of dread, a precursor to the stilted, ritualistic style of writing that invariably fogged his mind.

'It can't be,' Isak muttered, more to himself than Aryn Bwr.

'All deeds serve a purpose,' the dead king replied solemnly, 'but what use can shadows have of grand gestures!'

In short, careful phases they came within sight of the barricade. They were all listening hard for voices: signs of panic, sudden shouts, anything that might signal the order to attack. Doranei looked at the half-dozen wooden houses blazing away on his left, casting long shadows over King Emin's painfully small company. The men made their way down the middle of the street in three neat columns. They marched smartly, keeping in formation, their best defence against the barricade's defenders. Even so, every one of the Brotherhood had an ear c.o.c.ked for that first whistle of an arrow shaft.

'Your Majesty.'

Doranei didn't need to turn his head to know it was Beyn, on their right flank, who'd spoken. The street was silent aside from their quiet footsteps and his voice carried easily.

'Something in the shadows,' Beyn said.

'Something?' the king echoed.

'Figure; too quick to see properly, but tall, not a citizen.'

'Hooded and cloaked in white? Watching us?'

'Yes, all in white. Looking towards the barricade, but he saw us too. Moving alone, not frightened to be seen.'

'Tell me if it gets any closer,' King Emin said. 'We don't want to get caught up in someone else's problem.'

'What is it?' Endine whispered, unable to keep quiet.

Doranei looked at his king, who looked perturbed by the news, however calm he sounded.

'Scree's end is near, then,' he said quietly, sadly. 'When the Saljin Man ventures inside a city's boundary, it's because it is no longer a city.'

'The Saljin Man?' Now Endine sounded afraid. 'The curse of the Vukotic?'

'The very same. The daemon can follow any member of that tribe. No doubt it can sense the death hanging around Zhia. We should move faster.'

They picked up their pace, no one needing to be told twice. They'd all heard about the daemon that plagued the Vukotic tribe, and not even Coran wanted to try his arm against it.

The ground by the barricade was littered with corpses, most unarmed and many painfully thin, and those arrows the defenders had not bothered to recover after beating off however many a.s.saults they'd endured. Doranei tried not to look at any of the bodies too closely as he carefully stabbed every one within range, in case one of the rabid creatures was only injured. They'd been lucky so far, encountering no more than a dozen stragglers between Autumn's Arch, where they'd left the Farlan Army, and the Greengate.

Lord Isak hadn't bothered trying to talk King Emin out of the expedition he was busy organising his own fool's errand, though Lord Isak had more soldiers to accompany him to the Red Palace, where they believed the necromancer was holed up. The white-eye had grasped the king's wrist in friendship and saluted the rest of the small band, just as any Farlan soldier would, kissing his bow-fingers and touching them to his forehead. The other Farlan had followed suit, and Doranei felt a flush of foolish pride that Lord Isak had spared them the moment of respect, before the Brotherhood had dropped over the barricade and marched south, heading for the spot where their mages, Endine and Cetarn, had sensed a Crystal Skull being used.

'That's far enough,' called a voice from the barricade. Doranei froze as he tried to see who'd spoken; it was the local dialect, but not spoken by a local. As if bidden, a man clambered up the barricade and removed his steel helm to reveal a cropped mess of black hair and a ma.s.s of cuts and bruises.

Doranei had seen that battered head watching him from the floor of Zhia's study: the Menin soldier who had so reminded him of Ilumene for a moment, though there was hardly a pa.s.sing likeness. Amber? he thought Zhia had called him when they'd attended the theatre with Koezh. Was it a proper nickname or one she'd bestowed that night on a whim? In the flickering firelight, the Menin hooked the spike of his axe into his belt, though Doranei could clearly see the crossbow in the man's other hand.

'I wish to speak to your mistress; does she still live?' Doranei called after hurriedly clearly his throat. He told himself it was the heat and dust in the air that had dried his throat, nothing more, and certainly not the fear of attracting attention to himself when they were so exposed out on the street.

'Does she still live?' The Menin gave a cough that Doranei realised was a surprised laugh. 'Aye, she lives,' Amber said in a wry tone, 'and I'm sure she'll be glad to see another of her pets is still alive. Is that the whole of your company?'

Doranei looked back at his companions. All but five were men of the Brotherhood. With King Emin were his white-eye bodyguard Coran, the mages, Endine and Cetarn, and the Jester acolyte Zhia had given them to guide them to where Rojak and Ilumene were hiding. They didn't need the masked man now, but Zhia had a.s.sured the king that the acolyte would remain loyal, and an extra sword was always welcome, even if Coran kept between the king and the acolyte at all times. They were less than a full company, though every man there was too valuable for the regiments. 'This is all,' Doranei called.

Amber waved them over. 'Shift yourselves, then; our friends are coming back for another try.'

Doranei didn't even bother to look back. He and his Brothers raced for the rough barricade surrounding the Greengate and scrambled up it, Amber helping by grabbing the scruff of Doranei's collar and hauling him up while the raggedly armoured mercenaries beside him reached out hands to help the others. The Menin officer turned to do the same for the next man, and hesitated when he looked King Emin in the eyes and was caught by his icy-blue glittery stare.

'G.o.ds, if your eyes were darker I'd have thought you one of her brothers,' Amber said gruffly to cover his hesitation.

'There would be worse companions to have this night,' Emin replied as he climbed the barricade of overturned carts, barrels and broken furniture as nimbly as a goat.

'b.l.o.o.d.y hope so,' Amber said with a slight grin, wrapping his thick fingers around Torl Endine's arm and lifting the scrawny mage up onto the top of the barricade. 'Otherwise my night's only going to get worse.'

Endine gave a small squawk, but the constant state of terror and the effort of running through the city had drained any real feeling from it. As Amber put him down, Endine sagged into a small heap of bones and worn rags, like a horse recognising the knacker's yard. Amber gave the mage a jab with his toe that almost sent him sprawling backwards. 'Don't see why you're sitting down for a breather! I know a mage when I see one, and you lot are a d.a.m.n sight better at scaring off those poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds behind you than arrows are.'

Endine started to riposte, but all that came out was a weak wheeze.

'You'll have to excuse my feeble colleague,' Cetarn declaimed. He didn't look hampered by his paunch as he set about clambering up the barricade with all the gusto of a schoolboy. None of Scree's dangers seemed to have affected the oversized mage in the slightest, something Doranei put down to a n.o.ble upbringing, and the blind determination of the n.o.ble-born that every danger was nothing more than a game to be enjoyed with almost childish enthusiasm. What really annoyed him was that most of the time the approach worked.

'Endine cannot help himself,' Cetarn continued when he reached Amber.

Doranei could tell that the Menin soldier got a surprise when he realised the mage was both taller and wider than he was. There you go, bet you've not seen that from a normal so often, he thought in a moment of petulance.

'I have grown used to carrying him under my wing. Once he's recovered his breath, Endine will find some clever way to prove his worth.'

Amber looked from one mage to the other as the rest of the Brotherhood slipped past him. 'It's not a wing, it's a paw, if you ask me,' he muttered under his breath, then, louder, 'If that's how you want it, then fine; just do something about that lot.' He pointed towards a small crowd behind them, skirting the edges of the buildings as they approached, as though the light from the fires further down the street might burn them.

'Certainly, what would you like?' Cetarn replied brightly, point-lessly pushing the wide sleeves of his robe up to reveal pale skin marked with delicate tattoos and neat scars. Any high-ranking soldier would recognise the summary of Cetarn's skill and experience; the Menin battle-mages would have something similar. Major Amber looked sharp enough to understand what the scars and tattoos signified.

'Makes no difference to me,' Amber said, reaching down to retrieve his crossbow. 'Zhia says there's no chance for them, their minds are broken. Best you can do is make it quick.'

He ignored the windla.s.s mechanism and c.o.c.ked it in Chetse fashion, leather pads protecting his fingers as he pulled the string back by hand; a crude attempt to impress, but no doubt worthwhile if Major Amber was trying to keep a disparate band of militiamen, city guards and mercenaries together.

'My dear boy, I'm not a white-eye,' Cetarn said, ignoring the look he received from Coran. 'Ma.s.s slaughter isn't really my speciality; it requires too much raw magic and not enough subtlety. If you could use those bows to buy us a little time? Thank you.' The fat mage gave an extravagant flourish of the hands, like a street conjurer. 'Now, I've always said a good mage must adapt to his surroundings-'

'No you don't,' Endine coughed from near their feet, determined to find His voice if it meant an opportunity to annoy his colleague. 'You always say, "What's the point of having all this power if I can't bend the very fabric of the Land to my will?'" He gave a very poor imitation of Cetarn's deep voice.

'Oh honestly, I say that once-'

'Gentlemen,' growled King Emin, 'not the time.'

'Of course, your Majesty,' Cetarn said with a quick bow, 'I have let myself be distracted.' He dropped to one knee, his head bowed as though in prayer and his right hand outstretched with his fingers splayed. 'This city has an overabundance of shadows. I'm sure it can spare some for us to employ.'

Doranei turned to see the king's reaction, but he could read nothing. Emin's face was as blank as a Harlequin's mask, lit with daemonic light as he held the wick of a bottle up to a torch and handed that to Goran to hurl at the approaching figures. Doranei followed the path of the bottle until it reached the ground and shattered to spread a pool of flame across the centre of the street. More guards arrived on the barricade, muttering to each other in grim, low tones, but the only sounds Doranei focused on were the hiss of fire and the hushed drone of Cetarn's voice.

Doranei was glad he could not understand Cetarn's spell when he saw the shadows all along the street twist and writhe. The mage's hand jerked in response to the movements, until he gained control over the dark shapes littering the floor and began to move and shape them, the deft strokes of a conductor leading his orchestra, coaxing them up, tugging them out of their hollows and cracks until they rose up through the air.

Doranei could see figures through the shadows, as if looking at them through a wall of smoky gla.s.s across the entire street. They moved backwards and forwards, peering at the dark curtain but clearly not seeing through it as Doranei could.

They paced with frustration as their prey was swallowed by the night, before giving up and turning back down the road the Narkang men had used, heading north towards the Farlan. The spell look less than a minute to complete, but by the end, Cetarn was sweating with the effort, and the soldiers were shivering at what he'd accomplished. Endine hammered his palms against Cetarn's fat bicep, a strange look of jubilation on his face.

How long will that bold.'' King Emin asked coolly.

'I wouldn't like to estimate,' Cetarn replied breathlessly.

The king nodded; he knew his mages well enough to recognise 'You should be impressed I managed it at alV 'Will you be able to continue with us?'

Cetarn summoned the strength to look offended at the suggestion. 'I am not the feeble one here, your Majesty. I shall continue as far as these hired thugs you keep as bodyguard.' He clapped Doranei on the shoulder and managed to look defiant once the younger warrior had stiffened his back to take some of Cetarn's weight.

'Ah, sweetness; not war nor famine can raise mountains between us,' purred a voice that sent a p.r.i.c.kle down Doranei's spine. Beside him, Cetarn's cheerful expression collapsed. Doranei's nostrils flared automatically, craving the scent of Zhia's heady perfume as though it were a drug. He flinched at the sudden touch of soft fingers on his cheek, but his alarm melted under the force of her smile.

'This is hardly the time for quoting poetry at the boy,' said King Emin as he inclined his head respectfully to Zhia. He was wearing his favourite wide-brimmed hat, instead of the steel helm hanging from his belt. Strangely, he had pushed a tawny owl's feather into the band, rather than something grander, but the significance was lost on Doranei. 'And I've always rather thought Galasara was a self-important bore, except for his last laments.'

Zhia raised an eyebrow. '"Poets and kings raise monuments to their own glory,'" she said.

Doranei recognised the quotation by Verliq, the most skilled human mage in history, whose only record was scores of treatises on magic and the nature of the Land.

The king conceded the point with a small smile. 'But for some reason I find myself footing the bill for both.'

Now they were behind the barricade and safe for the moment at least, Doranei took a moment to take in details. The barricade was longer than they had expected, encompa.s.sing a large area around the Greengate, including an entire street of houses, the contents doubtless stripped out to be used as building material. The reason for the size became obvious when he looked over towards the Greengate itself, where a great crowd of people huddled, thousands of terrified faces turning to watch the newcomers.

'Refugees?' the king asked, pointing towards the ma.s.s.

'Certainly, you didn't think the entire city had gone insane, did you?' Zhia said. 'These are what's left of Scree's population, the ones untouched by madness. Many are not natives, which tells us something of the spell used, but not all of them, and I've not exactly had the time to work out the fine detail. Once my brother wipes out the remaining armies outside the gate, we can get these people away. They are innocents in this game, and I intend to deny Azaer as many of their lives as possible.'

She was dressed as Doranei had seen her last, that strange combination of white patterned skirts and armour. Doubtless the White Circle had strict views on women fighting with the men, but he remembered Lord Isak saying that their queen had been a white-eye, and, as King Emin delighted in proving, folk imitated their monarch's habits as closely as they could. Strangely, Zhia still wore the shawl of the White Circle clasped about her neck and hanging down over her pearl-detailed cuira.s.s.

Slung across her back was her oddly proportioned sword, a favourite weapon among the Vukotic, he finally recalled his swordmaster saying. Lessons felt like a lifetime ago. Like most of the Brotherhood, Doranei was a soldier's orphan. They were taught basic weapons-skills at the orphanage, and those who showed promise were handed over to the street-gang King Emin had adopted as a training ground for his young bodyguards. It was a strange double-life, mornings of petty theft and running errands in the gambling dens followed by afternoons with n.o.ble-born fencing masters or heroes from the army.

Doranei smiled. How much has really changed? Consorting with thieves and murderers one day, kings and princesses the next. The trick is to be able to tell the difference.

'I a.s.sume you're chasing the Skull,' Zhia said suddenly, 'but why? You have no ability yourself; why risk so much for a trinket that can, at best, only act as an unpredictable shield for you.'

The king didn't bother to deny the reason he was going south; he knew every mage in the city would have felt the artefact being used in such a reckless manner. 'Others will be seeking it out, others I would deny ownership of such a weapon. I suspect the minstrel will want it lor himself, and right now there are few men in the Land I would like to kill more, quite aside from the power that Skull would give him.'

'You know which it is?' Zhia's expression grew sharp.

'Lord Isak suspects it is Ruling, and I'm inclined to agree; it is the greatest of them and i(the shadow desires any, it would be that one.'

'And it is worth the risk? Holding a barricade against the mobs is one thing. If they catch you out in the open they'll tear you apart.' Zhia pointed to the south, where an orange glow lit the sky. 'They're being driven by those fires, and however skilled your bodyguards are, they cannot hope to survive against maddened hordes of thousands.'

'Then come with us,' King Emin said plainly. 'You could see us there safely and stop Rojak, whether he has found the Skull or not. Doranei tells me you're determined to see these people to safety?'

Zhia nodded, her shining sapphire eyes briefly finding Doranei, who found himself unable to meet them. 'I see no reason why they should all die just because some malevolent shadow intends to use their deaths to announce its presence in the Land. I've seen the ones wandering out there; they have lost all sense of reason or safety, and when fire spreads throughout the city it will take them all. Azaer will have the blood it craves, but my soldiers are protecting thousands who do not have to die.'

'And then what? What do you intend at dawn, when you're in a makeshift camp somewhere out there? These people won't follow you then.'

'Perhaps I overestimated you,' Zhia said scornfully. 'I am not like you; I do not yearn for the adoring crowds. Once they are out of the city and safe, my role in this play is over. I will go my own way. Haipar is a more caring woman than I, so I'm sure they will reach Helrect unmolested.'

'So you will not come with us after the Skull?'

'I already possess one, remember?' Zhia's eyes flashed, but she kept any sign of irritation out of her voice. For all the emotion she betrayed, she could have been discussing the price of fish at a dockside market. 'Ruling does not interest me in the slightest. The longer Velere Nostil owned that Skull, the more I disliked and feared him.'

'What do you mean?'

Zhia gave a cold laugh. 'Be careful what you wish for,' she said, staring King Emin directly in the eye. 'It may not prove the blessing you think.'

'The Skull is not what I seek.'

Doranei felt a flicker of pride in his king, a man who had created a nation and commissioned his own state crown. What leader, conqueror or king by birth, would be able to resist the lure of the Skull of Ruling? It was said that it Would confer an aura oi power on even those wilbonl the ability to wield if as a weapon. There was only one thing stopping King Emin becoming a tyrant: he knew perfectly well which desires drove him.

'Of course it is.' There was the hint of a smile on Zhia's face now. 'Whoever you want to kill whoever's plans you intend to frustrate don't pretend it has no lure for you.'

She turned to survey her own men, nervously gathered at the barricade, staring into the darkness. The vampire wore no helm and her long hair was loose, and every time she moved her head, locks of gleaming black hair danced in the growing breeze.

'I don't think I'll really be needed here,' she said after a moment. 'I've been keeping myself in check to avoid the inevitable irritations that would otherwise follow. You need me more than you're willing to admit.' She closed her eyes for a moment and placed her palm flat against her chest; Doranei saw her mouth what looked like Come before she looked up at the king again.