‘No?’ She was incredulous. ‘Just like that – you admit you could not defeat him. Is this a refusal to fight?’ All remaining nearby Avowed turned to watch warily.

‘I did not say that, Shimmer,’ Greymane said calmly, his hands kept loose at his sides. ‘I merely said there would be no match between us.’

‘So, all you have heard of him leads you to fear him that much.’

‘No, Shimmer. All that I have heard leads me to admire him that much. But I will say this. I vow that I would give my life in defence of you.’

Shimmer remained motionless for a number of heartbeats, her dark gaze slitted on Greymane's own pale unguarded eyes. She let her shield fall then hiked it up again as a crossbow bolt sang past, biting at the crimson silk tail that hung from her helmet's wrapping. She let go a snarled exhalation through clenched teeth. ‘Damn you, Greymane. Must you always walk the knife's edge?’

‘I must be true to myself.’

And look at what it has brought you, renegade! But she left the retort unsaid. The man seemed all too desolately aware of it. She gripped her sheathed Napan whipsword. ‘Then I'll have to take you up on your offer and head to the front ranks until we find our friend…’

He rubbed his broad, flattened nose, wincing. ‘I was worried you'd propose that.’

‘Father Light preserve us!’ Smoky breathed, suddenly fixed upon the east. Shell too stared, speechless. Her hands rose as if to fend off what she was seeing. Shimmer squinted but could only make out a darker patch against the general night. ‘What is it?’

Eyes still on the far edge of the field, Smoky murmured, almost inaudibly, ‘The impossible.’

‘Explain yourself, mage,’ Shimmer snapped.

Blinking, the man turned back to her, ran his soot-blackened hands up through his tangle of wild hair. ‘Someone has unveiled Kurald Galain here on the battlefield. And whoever that mage is, he or she ain't one of ours.’

‘Kurald Galain?’

‘The Tiste Andii Warren of Elder Darkness,’ Shell explained. ‘Home of their Goddess, Mother Dark.’

Shimmer eyed the coalescing, gently turning smear of darkness low over the field. ‘But there are no Tiste Andii here…’

‘Exactly. The impossible.’

Buffets of wind announced the arrival of mages through Warren: Opal, Lor-sinn and Toby. The gathered Avowed mages all cast taut glances to Smoky who agreed with a tart downturn of his mouth to whatever had been communicated. He faced Shimmer. ‘The escalation in magery has begun. Skinner's invoked ritual magics, the Imperials have responded. We, all five of us, together with the recruited mages, Twisty, Palla and whoever else – we'll probably all be needed here.’

‘All of you?’

Smoky dragged a hand across his face. ‘Whoever raised that, Shimmer, is beyond me.’

Shimmer forced herself to remain rigid. Show nothing! They are all looking to you! Could no battle go as planned? We expected sword and shield to settle this engagement. Now Smoky claims things have spiralled to a clash such as the sorcerous conflagrations of old. Well, so be it. Short of the appearance of Tayschrenn she was confident of the Guard's mage cadre. At least that thing, whatever it was, was now Skinner's concern as it stood directly between him and the Imperial pavilion. K'azz, if you really are close – we need you, ‘Very well.’ She nodded to the sergeant with her, Trench, who raised a hand signing ‘advance’.

‘For'ard!’

Greymane followed Shimmer, obviously meaning to guard her back, while the assembled mages flanked her. The Avowed of her command spread out through the phalanx of second and third investiture men and women, rallying all the disparate knots into one swelling, widening wedge of shielded soldiers.

‘Great Goddess protect us,’ Liss murmured, her head turning abruptly to the east. The three brothers, Hurl noted, had all turned as well.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Amazing… Like nothing I have ever seen, nor expected to see.’

‘What, dammit!’

‘Elder Darkness, Night Eternal, unveiled there on the battlefield.’ She pulled her gaze from the silhouetted hills to look down to Hurl who stood next to her mount. ‘Things, Hurl, are rapidly sliding out of control out on that field. Forces are being summoned that would give even Ryllandaras pause. He is, after all, just one creature.’ She pointed. ‘But out there, magery such as that which consumed armies is being primed for wielding.’

‘So?’

‘So – we must find him before we ourselves are consumed.’

‘Let us…’ said one brother.

‘Leave him…’

‘To die,’ finished the last.

Liss turned on them. ‘He's too cunning. He will flee. I intend to make sure of it!’

‘I, as well,’ Rell added.

The three shrugged, their indifference raising the hairs of Hurl's neck. They moved not one after the other, or raggedly, but identically, at exactly the same moment in exactly the same way despite the sagging paralysis of shoulders, lips and arms. It was as if they were one. And there had always been something eerie about them. Something unsettling. Everyone felt it. For Hurl it was a prickling that struck right at the very centre of her being but which she couldn't exactly pin down. Intuitive. Something was very wrong about them.

Yet what could she do? They'd done nothing suspicious. Nothing to call them on. Quite the opposite, in fact. They'd been vital to the city's defence. And so she was stuck with them. Like horses, she reflected, sourly. They made themselves useful so you couldn't just kill them all. But she knew their true side – she was on to them. ‘So?’ She sighed. ‘What do you suggest?’

‘We should move. He's close. In the north. The brothers and I should be able to find him.’

Find him? Great Lady, they're actually going hunting for him! Well, it was what they came for. Personally, she'd hoped to wait till he got himself tarred by the Imperials then they could just step in and finish him off But there was still hope.

She went to her mount, gathered the reins. The red mare turned its head, watching her. Try anything and I'll kill you – you know it too. The mare shook her auburn mane. Hurl patted the bulging saddlebags strapped tight and padded in sheepskins. Yeah, she meant to make sure of it too.

A squad healer, name unknown to Ullen, gave his left arm a squeeze to let him know he was done, then moved on the next wounded man. Standing, Ullen spared a glance from then field to see that the man had fashioned a sling to tie the dead meat that was his right arm to his chest. One of Cowl's Veils, a tall slim woman with long white hair, had appeared out of nowhere, slaying guards and staffers, making for him until a saboteur sergeant briefing him, Urfa, had thrown something that burst a spray of razor fragments, some of which had lacerated his arm, slicing tendons and nerves. It left the Veil staggered, slashed in zig-zags of blood, then, and only then did a full Hand appear to jump her. The resulting melee had tumbled away into the night in a frenzy of leaping bodies, thrown blades and tossed Warren magics.

Ullen saw in that same all-encompassing glance that his command staff of relatively green lieutenants and messengers had been profoundly shaken. First time's always the worst. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention from the night. ‘Now we know what a visit from Dancer must have been like, hey?’ and he offered a self-mocking, almost sad smile. The gathered men and women eyed one another; some wiped at their shining sweaty faces. Then: appreciative chuckles and even blown breaths.

A chorus of ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Reports, people! What's going on?’

The Imperial lieutenant brushed at a trail of blood from a slashed cheek. ‘Reports are we're losing ground in the west. Urko is pulling his people to the centre.’