‘Calm down,’ said Penith Vinandas.

Clip smiled to himself, wondering yet again if the Reve aspects created the personalities of their masters-or, in the case of Penith, mistress-or was it the other way round? Of course the Mistress of the Root would advise calm, a settling of wild wills, for she was so assuredly… rooted.

‘I am calm!’ snarled Rin Varalath. He jabbed a finger at Silchas Ruin. ‘We must not yield to this one, else all that we have achieved will be brought down upon our very heads. The balance is all that keeps us alive, and each of you knows that. And if you do not, then you are more lost than I ever imagined.’

Draxos Hulch, Reve of the Dark Water, spoke in his depthless baritone. ‘The issue, my fellow wizards, is less open to debate than you would hope. Unless, of course, we can explain to this warrior the nature of our struggle and the uneasy balance we have but recently won.’

‘Why should he be interested?’ Rin Varalath asked. ‘If this all collapses it is nothing to him. He will move on, uncaring-our deaths will be meaningless as far as he is concerned.’

Silchas Ruin sighed. ‘I am not insensitive to the battle you have waged here, wizards. But your success is due entirely to the inevitable disintegration of the Jaghut’s ritual’ He scanned the faces before him. ‘You are no match for Omtose Phellack, when its wielder was none other than Gothos. In any case, the balance you believe you have achieved is illusory. The ritual fails. Ice, which had been held in check, held timeless, has begun to move once more. It falters in the warmth of this age, yet its volume is so vast that, even melted, it will effect vast change. As for the glaciers bound in the highest reaches of the mountains of Bluerose-those to the north-well, they have already begun their migration. Unmindful of the distant ocean’s assault, they draw power from a wayward flow of cold air. These glaciers, wizards, still hold the spear of the ritual, and soon it will drive for your heart. The Andara is doomed.’

‘We care nothing for the Andara,’ said Gestallin Aros, Reve of the Air. ‘The balance you speak of is not the one that matters to us. Silchas Ruin, the Jaghut’s ritual was of ice only in the manner that fire is of wood-it was the means of achieving a specific goal, and that goal was the freezing in place of time. Of life, and of death.’

Clip’s gaze narrowed on Silchas Ruin, as the albino Andii slowly cocked his head, then said, ‘You speak of a different failing, yet the two are linked-’

‘We are aware of that,’ cut in Ordant Brid. Then, with a faint smile, ‘Perhaps more so than you. You speak of a spear of ice, of Omtose Phellack’s very core, still living, still powerful. That spear, Silchas Ruin, casts a shadow, and it is within that shadow that you will find what you seek. Although not, I think, in the way you desire.’

‘Explain.’

‘We will not,’ snapped Rin Varalath. ‘If you wish to understand, then look to your kin.’

‘My kin? Are you then able to summon Anomander?’

‘Not him,’ replied Ordant Brid. He hesitated, then continued. ‘We were visited, not so long ago, by an ascendant. Menandore. Sister Dawn-’

If anything, Ruin’s voice grew even colder as he demanded, ‘What has she to do with this?’

‘Balance, you ignorant fool!’ Rin Varalath’s shriek echoed in the chamber.

‘Where is she now?’ Silchas Ruin asked.

Alas,’ replied Draxos Hulch, ‘we do not know. But she is close, for reasons that are entirely her own. She will, I fear, oppose you, should you decide to force your way past us.’

‘I seek the soul of Scabandari Bloodeye. I do not understand that you would object to such a goal.’

‘We see the truth of that,’ said Ordant Brid.

A long moment of silence. The five Onyx Wizards faced a nonplussed Silchas Ruin, who seemed at a loss for words.

‘It is,’ said Penith Vinandas, ‘a question of… compassion.’

‘We are not fools,’ said Ordant Brid. ‘We cannot oppose you. Perhaps, however, we can guide you. The journey to the place you seek is arduous-the path is not straight. Silchas Ruin, it is with some astonishment that I tell you that we have reached something of a consensus on this. You have no idea how rare such a thing is-granted, I speak of a compromise, one which sits uneasier with some of us than with others. Nonetheless, we have agreed to offer you a guide.’

‘A guide? To lead me on this crooked path, or tug me ever astray from it?’

‘Such deceit would not work for very long.’

‘True; nor would I be merciful upon its discovery.’

‘Of course.’

Silchas Ruin crossed his arms. ‘You will provide us with a guide. Very well. Which of you has volunteered?’

‘Why, none of us,’ said Ordant Brid. ‘The need for us here prevents such a thing. As you said, a spear of ice is directed at us, and while we cannot shatter it, perhaps we can… redirect it. Silchas Ruin, your guide shall be the Mortal Sword of the Black-Winged Lord.’ At that, the wizard gestured.

Clip rose to his feet, then began his descent to the Disc of Concordance. The chain and its rings appeared in his hand, whirring, then snapping, then whirring out again.

‘He is Anomander’s Mortal Sword?’ Silchas Ruin asked in obvious disbelief as he stared up at this meeting’s audience of one.

Clip smiled. ‘Do you think he would be displeased?’

After a moment, the brother of Rake grimaced, then shook his head. ‘Probably not.’

‘Come the morrow,’ Ordant Brid said, ‘we will begin preparing the way for the continuation of your journey.’

Reaching the edge of the lowest tier, Clip dropped lightly onto the polished stone of the Disc, then approached Silchas Ruin, the chain in his hand spinning and clacking.

‘Must you always do that?’ Silchas Ruin demanded. ‘Do what?’

Silchas Ruin walked into the chamber, followed a moment later by the Tiste Andii, Clip.

Seren Pedac felt a sudden chill, although she could not determine its source. Clip was smiling, but it was a cynical smile, and it seemed his eyes held steady on Fear Sengar, as if awaiting some kind of challenge.

‘Acquitor,’ said Silchas Ruin, releasing the clasp of his cloak as he walked over to the stone table against a far wall, where waited wine and food, ‘at least one mystery has been answered.’

‘Oh?’

‘The preponderance of wraiths here in the Andara, the countless ghosts of dead Tiste Andii-I know why they are here.’

‘I am sorry, I did not know this place was crowded with wraiths. I’ve not even seen Wither lately.’

He glanced across at her, then poured himself a goblet of wine. ‘It is extraordinary,’ he murmured, ‘how something as basic as the absence of a taste on the tongue can prove the most excruciating torture… when one is buried for thousands of years.’

She watched him take a mouthful of the watery wine, watched him savour it. Then he said, ‘Time, Acquitor. The Omtose Phellack ritual, which froze all in place, defied Hood himself-apologies, Hood is the Lord of Death. The ghosts-they had nowhere to go. Easily captured and enslaved by the Tiste Edur, but many others managed to evade that fate, and they are here, among their mortal kin. The Onyx Wizards speak of compassion and balance, you see…’

No, 1 do not, but I think that is of no matter. ‘Will the wizards help us?’

A wry grimace from Silchas Ruin, then he shrugged. ‘Our fell party now has a new member, Acquitor, who is charged with guiding us to what we seek.’ Fear Sengar, suddenly tense, stepped close to Clip. Tiste Andii,’ he said, ‘know this, please. I possess no enmity towards you or your people. If indeed you will lead us to where the soul of Scabandari is bound, I will be in your debt

– indeed, all of the Edur will be in your debt.’

Clip grinned. ‘Oh, you don’t want that, warrior.’

Fear seemed taken aback.

‘You,’ said Silchas Ruin to the Tiste Edur, ‘pose the gravest threat to these Andii. Your kind has good reason to hunt down every last one of them; nor are the Letherii well disposed to them, given their resistance to the annexation