Sukul scowled at her kin. ‘What are you saying?’

The terrible eyes fixed mockingly on her. ‘He stood on the field of battle. He stood, his back to Scabandari-whom he called Bloodeye and was that not hint enough? Stood, I tell you, and but waited for the knives.’

‘I do not believe you-that must be a lie, it must be!’

‘Why? Wounded, weaponless. Sensing the fast approach of this realm’s powers-powers that would not hesitate in destroying him and Bloodeye both. Destroying in the absolute sense-Silchas was in no condition to defend against them. Nor, he well knew, was Scabandari, for all that idiot’s pompous preening over the countless dead. So, join in Scabandari’s fate, or… escape7.’

‘Millennia within a barrow of an Azath-you call that an escape, Sheltatha?’

‘More than any of us-more even than Anomandaris,’ she said, her eyes suddenly veiled, ‘Silchas Ruin thinks… draconean. As cold, as calculating, as timeless. Abyss below, Sukul Ankhadu, you have no idea…’ A shudder took Sheltatha then and she turned away. ‘Be sure of your schemes, sister,’ she added in a guttural tone, ‘and, no matter how sure you make yourself, leave us a means of escape. For when we fail.’

Another faint groan, from the earth spirits on all sides, and Sukul Ankhadu shivered, assailed by uncertainty-and fear. ‘You must tell me more of him,’ she said. All you learned-’

‘Oh, I shall. Freedom has left you… arrogant, sister. We must strip that from you, we must free your gaze of that veil of confidence. And refashion your plans accordingly.’ A long pause, then Sheltatha Lore faced Sukul once again, an odd glint in her eyes. ‘Tell me, did you choose in deliberation?’

‘What?’

A gesture. ‘This place… for my recovery.’

Sukul shrugged. ‘Shunned by the local people. Private-I thought-’

‘Shunned, aye. With reason.’

And that would be?’

Sheltatha studied her for a long moment, then she simply turned away. ‘Matters not. I am ready to leave here now.’

As ami, I think. Agreed. North-’

Another sharp glance, then a nod.

Oh, 1 see your contempt, sister. 1 know you felt as Menandore did-I know you think little of me. And you thought 1 would step forward once she struck? Why? I spoke of trust, yes, but you did not understand. I do indeed trust you, Sheltatha. 1 trust you to lust for vengeance. And that is all I need. For ten thousand lifetimes of slight and disregard… it will be all I need.

His tattooed arms bared in the humid heat, Taxilian walked to the low table where sat Samar Dev, ignoring the curious regard from other patrons in the courtyard restaurant. Without a word he sat, reached for the jug of watered, chilled wine and poured himself a goblet, then leaned closer. ‘By the Seven Holies, witch, this damned city is a wonder-and a nightmare.’

Samar Dev shrugged. ‘The word is out-a score of champions now await the Emperor’s pleasure. You are bound to attract attention.’

He shook his head. ‘You misunderstand. I was once an architect, yes? It is one thing’-he waved carelessly-‘to stand agape at the extraordinary causeways and spans, the bridges and that dubious conceit that is the Eternal Domicile-even the canals with their locks, inflows and outflows, the aqueduct courses and the huge blockhouses with their massive pumps and the like.’ He paused for another mouthful of wine. ‘No, I speak of something else entirely. Did you know, an ancient temple of sorts collapsed the day we arrived-a temple devoted, it seems, to rats-’

‘Rats?’

‘Rats, not that I could glean any hint of a cult centred on such foul creatures.’

‘Karsa would find the notion amusing,’ Samar Dev said with a half-smile, ‘and acquire in such cultists yet another enemy, given his predilection for wringing the necks of rodents-’

Taxilian said in a low voice, ‘Not just rodents, I gather…’

‘Alas, but on that matter I would allow the Toblakai some steerage room-he warned them that no-one was to touch his sword. A dozen or more times, in fact. That guard should have known better.’

‘Dear witch,’ Taxilian sighed, ‘you’ve been careless or, worse, lazy. It’s to do with the Emperor, you see. The weapon destined to cross blades with Rhulad’s own. The touch signifies a blessing-did you not know? The loyal citizens of this empire want the champions to succeed. They want their damned tyrant obliterated. They pray for it; they dream of it-’

‘All right,’ Samar Dev hissed, ‘keep your voice down!’

Taxilian spread his hands, then he grimaced. ‘Yes, of course. After all, every shadow hides a Patriotist-’

‘Careful of whom you mock. That’s a capricious, bloodthirsty bunch, Taxilian, and you being a foreigner only adds to your vulnerability.’

‘You need to eavesdrop on more conversations, witch. The Emperor is unkillable. Karsa Orlong will join all the others in that cemetery of urns. Do not expect otherwise. And when that happens, why, all his… hangers-on, his companions-all who came with him will suffer the same fate. Such is the decree. Why would the Patriotists bother with us, given our inevitable demise?’ He drained the last wine from his goblet, then refilled it. ‘In any case, you distracted me. I was speaking of that collapsed temple, and what I saw of its underpinnings-the very proof for my growing suspicions.’

‘I didn’t know we’re destined for execution. Well, that changes things-although I am not sure how.’ She fell silent; then, considering Taxilian’s other words, she said, ‘Go on.’

Taxilian slowly leaned back, cradling the goblet in his hands. ‘Consider Ehrlitan, a city built on the bones of countless others. In that, little different from the majority of settlements across all Seven Cities. But this Letheras, it is nothing like that, Samar Dev. No. Here, the older city never collapsed, never disintegrated into rubble. It still stands, following street patterns not quite obscured. Here and there, the ancient buildings remain, like crooked teeth. I have never seen the like, witch-it seems no regard whatsoever was accorded those old streets. At least two canals cut right through them-you can see the bulge of stonework on the canal walls, like the sawed ends of long-bones.’

‘Peculiar indeed. Alas, a subject only an architect or a mason would find a source of excitement, Taxilian.’

‘You still don’t understand. That ancient pattern, that mostly hidden gridwork and the remaining structures adhering to it-witch, none of it is accidental.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I should probably not tell you this, but among masons and architects there are secrets of a mystical nature. Certain truths regarding numbers and geometry reveal hidden energies, lattices of power. Samar Dev, there are such courses of energy, like twisted wires in mortar, woven through this city. The collapse of Scale House revealed it to my eyes: a gaping wound, dripping ancient blood-nearly dead blood, I’ll grant you, but undeniable.’

‘Are you certain of this?’

‘I am, and furthermore, someone knows. Enough to ensure that the essential constructs, the buildings that form a network of fulcra-the fixing-points to the lattice of energy-they all remain standing-’

‘Barring this Scale House.’

A nod. ‘Not necessarily a bad thing-indeed, not necessarily accidental, that collapse.’

‘Now you have lost me. That temple fell down on purpose?’

‘I would not discount that. In fact, that accords precisely with my suspicions. We approach a momentous event, Samar Dev. For now, that is as far as I can take it. Something is going to happen. I only pray we are alive to witness it.’

‘You’ve done little to enliven my day,’ she said, eyeing her half-finished breakfast of bread, cheeses and unfamiliar fruit. ‘At the very least you can order us another carafe of wine for your sins.’

‘I think you should run,’ Taxilian said under his breath, not meeting her eyes. ‘I would, barring the event I believe is coming. But as you say, my interest is perhaps mostly professional. You, on the other hand, would do better to look to your own life-to maintaining it, that is.’