‘What about Ublala?’ Rissarh demanded.

‘What about him?’

‘We want him back.’

‘Too late, I’m afraid. That’s what happens when you won’t commit.’

Tehol quickly made his way out.

Walking the quiet streets back to his abode, Tehol considered his earlier words. He had to admit to himself that he was troubled. There was sufficient mystery in some of the rumours to suggest that the impending war would not be like all the others Letherii had waged. A collision of wills and desires, and beneath it a host of dubious assumptions and suspect sentiments. In that alone, no different from any other war. But in this case, the outcome was far from certain, and even the notion of victory seemed confused and elusive.

He passed through Burl Square and came to the entrance to the warehouse storage area, beyond which was the alley leading to his home. Pausing to push up his lopsided sleeves and cinch tight his trousers, he frowned. Was he losing weight? Hard to know. Wool stretched, after all.

A figure stepped from the nearby shadows of an alley mouth. ‘You’re late.’

Tehol started, then said, ‘For what?’

Shurq Elalle came to within two paces of him. ‘I’ve been waiting. Bugg made soup. Where have you been?’

‘What are you doing out?’ Tehol asked. ‘You’re supposed to be holed up right now. This is dangerous-’

‘I needed to talk to you,’ she cut in. ‘It’s about Harlest.’

‘What about him?’

‘He wants his sharp teeth and talons. It’s all we ever hear. Fangs and talons, fangs and talons. We’re sick of it. Where’s Selush? Why haven’t you made arrangements? You’re treating us like corpses, but even the dead have needs, you know.’

‘Well, no, I didn’t know that. In any case, tell Harlest that Selush is working on this, probably right now in fact. Sharp solutions are forthcoming.’

‘Don’t make me laugh.’

‘Sorry. Are you in need of a refill?’

‘A what?’

‘Well, uh, more herbs and stuff, I mean.’

‘I don’t know. Am I? Do I smell or something?’

‘No. Only of sweet things, Shurq. I assure you.’

‘I am less inspired by your assurances as time goes on, Tehol Beddict.’

‘What a terrible thing to say! Have we stumbled yet?’

‘When is Gerun Eberict returning?’

‘Soon, it turns out. Things should get exciting then.’

‘I am capable of excitement regarding one thing and one thing only, and that has nothing to do with Gerun Eberict. However, I want to steal again. Anything, from whomever. Point me in a direction. Any direction.’

‘Well, there is of course the Tolls Repository. But that’s impregnable, obviously. Or, let’s see, the royal vaults, but again, impossible.’

‘The Tolls. Yes, that sounds challenging.’

‘You won’t succeed, Shurq. No-one ever has, and that includes Green Pig who was a sorceror nearly to rival the Ceda himself-’

‘I knew Green Pig. He suffered from overconfidence.’

‘And was torn limb from limb as a result.’

‘What do you want stolen from the Tolls Repository?’

‘Shurq-’

‘What?’

Tehol glanced round. ‘All right. I want to find out which lender holds the largest royal debt. The king has been borrowing prodigiously, and not just to finance the Eternal Domicile. So, who and how much. Same for Queen Janall. And whatever she’s done in her son’s name.’

‘Is that all? No gold? No diamonds?’

‘That’s right. No gold, no diamonds, and no evidence left behind that anyone was ever in there.’

‘I can do that.’

‘No you can’t. You’ll get caught. And dismembered.’

‘Oh, that will hurt.’

‘Maybe not, but it’ll prove inconvenient.’

‘I won’t get caught, Tehol Beddict. Now, what did you want from the royal vaults?’

‘A tally.’

‘You want to know the present state of the treasury.’

‘Yes.’

‘I can do that.’

‘No you can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’ll have been dismembered by then.’

‘Thus permitting me to slip into places where I otherwise wouldn’t fit.’

‘Shurq, they take your head off too, you know. It’s the last thing they do.’

‘Really? That’s barbaric’

‘Like I said, you would be greatly inconvenienced.’

‘I would at that. Well, I shall endeavour to be careful. Mind you, even a head can count.’

‘What would you have me do, break in and lob your head into the vaults? Tied to a rope so I can pull you out again when you’re done?’

‘That sounds somewhat problematic.’

‘It does, doesn’t it?’

‘Can’t you plan any better than that, Tehol Beddict? My faith in you is fast diminishing.’

‘Can’t be helped, I suppose. What’s this I hear about you purchasing a seagoing vessel?’

‘That was supposed to be a secret. Bugg said he wouldn’t tell-’

‘He didn’t. I have my own sources of intelligence, especially when the owner of the vessel just sold happens to be me. Indirectly, of course.’

‘All right. Me and Ublala and Harlest, we want to be pirates.’

‘Don’t make me laugh, Shurq.’

‘Now you’re being cruel.’

‘Sorry. Pirates, you say. Well, all three of you are notoriously hard to drown. Might work at that.’

‘Your confidence and well-wishing overwhelms me.’

‘And when do you plan on embarking on this new venture?’

‘When you’re done with us, of course.’

Tehol tugged up his trousers again. ‘Yet another edifying conversation with you, Shurq. Now, I smell something that might well be soup, and you need to go back to your crypt.’

‘Sometimes I really hate you.’

He led her by the hand down the shallow, crumbling steps. She liked these journeys, even though the places he took her were strange and often… disturbing. This time, they descended an inverted stepped pyramid – at least that was what he called it. Four sides to the vast, funnelled pit, and at the base there was a small square of darkness.

The air was humid enough to leave droplets on her bare arms. Far overhead, the sky was white and formless. She did not know if it was hot – memories of such sensations had begun to fade, along with so many other things.

They reached the base of the pit and she looked up at the tall, pale figure at her side. His face was becoming more visible, less blurred. It looked handsome, but hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said after a moment, ‘that she’s got you by the ankles.’

‘We all have our burdens, Kettle.’

‘Where are we?’

‘You have no recognition of this place?’

‘No. Maybe.’

‘Let us continue down, then.’

Into the darkness, three rungs to a landing, then a spiral staircase of black stone.

‘Round and round,’ Kettle said, giggling.

A short while later they came to the end, the stairs opening out onto a sprawling, high-ceilinged chamber. The gloom was no obstacle to Kettle, nor, she suspected, to her companion. She could see a ragged mound heaped against the far wall to their right, and made to move towards it, but his hand drew her back.

‘No, lass. Not there.’

He led her instead directly ahead. Three doorways, each one elaborately arched and framed with reverse impressions of columns. Between them, the walls displayed deeply carved images.

‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘there is a reversal of perspective. That which is closest is carved deepest. There is significance to all this.’

‘Where are we?’

‘To achieve peace, destruction is delivered. To give the gift of freedom, one promises eternal imprisonment. Adjudication obviates the need for justice. This is a studied, deliberate embrace of diametric opposition. It is a belief in balance, a belief asserted with the conviction of religion. But in this case, the proof of a god’s power lies not in the cause but in the effect. Accordingly, in this world and in all others, proof is achieved by action, and therefore all action – including the act of choosing inaction – is inherently moral. No deed stands outside the moral context. At the same time, the most morally perfect act is the one taken in opposition to what has occurred before.’