‘What kind?’ Seren asked.

‘It is fragmented. Perhaps… K’Chain Che’Malle-they rarely used their magic in ways easily understood. Never in battle. I do recall something… necromantic’

And is that what this is?’

‘I cannot say, Acquitor.’

‘So why is Udinaas the one afflicted? What about the rest of us?’

No-one ventured a response, barring another broken laugh from Udinaas.

Rings clacked. ‘I have made my suggestion,’ Clip said.

Again, the conversation seemed to die. Kettle walked over to stand close to Udinaas, as if conferring protection.

The small campfire was finally alight, if feebly so. Seren collected a tin pot and set out to find some clean snow, which should have been a simple enough task. But the rotted patches were foul with detritus. Smears of decaying vegetation, speckled layers of charcoal and ash, the carcasses of some kind of ice-dwelling worm or beetle, wood and pieces of countless animals. Hardly palatable. She was surprised they weren’t all sick.

She halted before a long, narrow stretch of ice-crusted snow that filled a crack or fold in the rock. She drew her knife, knelt down and began pecking at it. Chunks broke away. She examined each one, discarding those too dis-coloured with filth, setting the others into the pot. Not much like normal glaciers-those few she had seen up close. After all, they were made of successive snowfalls as much as creeping ice. Those snowfalls normally produced relatively pristine strata. But here, it was as if the air through which the snow fell had been thick with drifting refuse, clogging every descending flake. Air thick with smoke, ash, pieces of once living things. What could have done that? If just ash then she could interpret it as the result of some volcanic eruption. But not damned fragments of skin and meat. What secret hides in these mountains?

She managed to dig the knife-point deep into the ice, j then settled her weight on it. The entire remaining slab of ice lifted suddenly, prised away from the crack. And there, lying beneath it, a spear.

The shaft, long as Seren was tall, was not wood. Polished, mottled amber and brown, it looked almost… scaled. The broad head was of one piece, blade and stem, ground jade, milky smooth and leaf-shaped. No obvious glue or binding held the socket onto the shaft.

She pulled the weapon loose. The scaled texture, she saw, was created by successive, intricate layering of horn, which explained the mottled appearance. Again, she could discern no indication of how the layers were fixed. The spear was surprisingly heavy, as if the shaft had mineralized.

A voice spoke behind her. ‘Now that is an interesting find.’

She turned, studied Clip’s mocking expression, and felt a flash of irritation. ‘In the habit of following people around, Clip?’

‘No, mostly I lead them. I know, that task serves to push you to one side. Leaves you feeling useless.’

‘Any other bright observations you want to make?’

He shrugged, spinning the damned chain back and forth. ‘That spear you found. It’s T’lan Imass.’

‘Is that supposed to mean something to me?’

‘It will.’

‘It’s not a weapon you fight with, is it?’

‘No. And I don’t hide in trees and throw fruit either.’

She frowned.

He laughed, turning away. ‘I was born in Darkness, Acquitor.’

And?’

He paused, glanced back at her. ‘Why do you think I am rhe Mortal Sword of the Black-Winged Lord? My good looks? My charming personality? My skill with these blades here?’

‘Well,’ she replied, ‘you’ve just exhausted my list of reasons.’

‘Ha ha. Hear me. Born in Darkness. Blessed by our Mother. The first in thousands of years-she turned away, you know. From her chosen sons. Thousands of years? More like tens of thousands. But not from me. I can walk the Darkness, Acquitor.’ He waved his chain-spinning hand back towards the others. ‘Not even Silchas Ruin can make that claim.’

‘Does he know?’

‘No. This is our secret for as long as you choose.’

And why would I choose to not tell him this, Clip?’

‘Because I am the only one here who can keep him from killing you. You and Udinaas-the two he considers most useless. Indeed, potential enemies.’

‘Enemies? Why would he think that?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘We’re just bugs he can crush underfoot any time he likes. An enemy is one who poses a threat. We don’t.’

‘Well, on that count, I see no need to enlighten you. Yet.’

Snorting, she turned and collected the pot with its chunks of glittering ice.

‘Plan on keeping your find?’ Clip asked.

She looked down at the weapon in her right hand. ‘Udinaas can use it as a crutch.’

Clip’s laugh was bitterly cruel. ‘Oh, the injustice, Acquitor. For a storied weapon such as that one.’

She frowned at him. ‘You speak as if you recognise it. Do you?’

‘Let’s just say it belongs with us.’

Frustrated, she moved past him, back towards the camp.

The spear drew attention, frighteningly fast from Silchas Ruin, who-before he spun round to face her-seemed to flinch. Udinaas, too-his head snapping up as she walked towards him. She felt her heart lurch in her chest and was suddenly afraid.

She sought to hide it by holding stubbornly to her original thought. ‘Udinaas, I found this-you can use it to keep your balance.’

He grunted, then nodded. ‘A ground-stone tip-can’t have much of an edge, can it? At least I won’t stumble and poke my eye out, unless I work hard at it, and why would I do that?’

‘Do not mock it,’ Silchas Ruin said. ‘Use it in the manner the Acquitor has suggested, by all means. But know that it is not yours. You will have to surrender it-know that, Udinaas.’

‘Surrender it-to you, perchance?’

Again the flinch. ‘No.’ And Silchas Ruin turned away once more.

Udinaas grinned weakly at Seren. ‘Have you just given me a cursed weapon, Acquitor?’

‘I don’t know.’

He leaned on it. ‘Well, never mind. I’ve a whole collection of curses-one more won’t make much difference.’

Ice was melted, waterskins refilled. Another pot of frozen snow provided the water for a broth of herbs, rinds of myrid fat, berries and nuggets of sap taken from maple trees-the last of which they had seen ten days ago, at an elevation where the air was invigorating and sweetly pungent with life. Here, there were no trees. Not even shrubs. The vast forest surrounding them was barely ankle high-a tangled world of lichen and mosses.

Holding a bowl of the soup in trembling hands, Udinaas spoke to Seren. ‘So, just to get things straight in this epic farce of ours, did you find this spear or did it find you?’

She shook her head. ‘No matter. It’s yours now.’

‘No. Silchas is right. You’ve but loaned it to me, Acquitor. It slides like grease in my hands. I couldn’t use it to fight-even if I knew how, which I don’t.’

‘Not hard,’ Clip said. ‘Just don’t hold it at the sharp end and poke people with it until they fall over. I’ve yet to face a warrior with a spear I couldn’t cut to pieces.’

Fear Sengar snorted.

And Seren knew why. It was enough to brighten this morning, enough to bring a wry smile to her lips.

Clip noted it and sneered, but said nothing.

‘Pack up,’ Silchas Ruin said after a moment. ‘I weary of waiting.’

‘I keep telling you,’ Clip said, spinning the rings once more, ‘it’ll all come in its own time, Silchas Ruin.’

Seren turned to face the rearing peaks to the north. The gold had paled, as if drained of all life, all wonder. Another day of weary travel awaited them. Her mood plunged and she sighed.

Given the choice, this game should have been his own. Not Cotillion’s, not Shadowthrone’s. But enough details had drifted down to Ben Adaephon Delat, heavy and grim as the ash from a forest fire, to make him content, for the moment, to choke on someone else’s problems. Since the Enfilade at Pale, his life had been rather headlong. He felt as if he was plunging down a steep hill, for ever but one step from bone-snapping, blood-spraying disaster.