'Is he a king of some kind?'

'No, merely a servant of the Council of Seven. Believe me, that makes him more powerful than many kings of your world. Are you aware that he knew you were lying?'

'Of course.'

'Then why did you do it?'

Waylander ignored the question. 'Are you strong enough to withstand his power?'

'No. Not directly.'

'Then you and your companions should leave the palace. Find somewhere to hide – or return whence you came.'

'I cannot leave now.'

Waylander lifted the water jug and left the building, hurling the stale liquid to the flower garden and refilling the jug from the waterfall. Returning to the main room, he offered the priestess a drink. She shook her head and he filled his own goblet. 'What is it that Eldicar Manushan can offer to potential allies here?' he asked.

'Have you looked closely at Aric?'

'He seems fitter and leaner.'

'Younger?'

'I see,' said Waylander. 'Is it real, or an illusion?'

'It is real, Grey Man. Some servant of Aric's will have died perhaps to supply it, but it is real. The Seven long ago mastered the art of enhancement and regeneration, just as they mastered the vileness of Joining.'

'If I killed this magicker, would it aid you in keeping the gateway sealed?'

'Perhaps. But you cannot kill him.'

'There is no one I cannot kill, Lady. That is my curse.'

'I know of your talent, Grey Man. But I mean what I say: Eldicar Manushan cannot be killed. You could put a bolt through his heart, or cut off his head and he would not die. Slice off his arm and another will grow. The Seven and their servants are immortal and virtually invulnerable.'

'Virtually?'

'The use of spells is dangerous. The summoning of Third Level demons carries few perils. Once made flesh they exist merely to feed. But the summoning of specific demons of the First and Second Level carries great danger. Such a demon must have a death. If it cannot succeed against the intended victim, then it will turn against the sorcerer who summoned it. If Eldicar Manushan was to summon a First Level demon, and that demon was thwarted, then Eldicar would be dragged back into the realm of Anharat and torn to pieces.'

'That seems a good weakness to exploit,' said Waylander.

'It would be. But that is why Eldicar Manushan has the boy with him. He is his loachai, his familiar. Eldicar Manushan casts his spells through the child. If anything were to go wrong the child would be slain.'

Waylander swore softly. Crossing the room, he sat down in the hide chair beside the hearth. Weariness lay heavy upon him. Ustarte sat opposite him.

'Can he read minds as well as you?' he asked her.

'I do not believe so.'

'Yet he knew I was lying about your departure?'

She nodded. 'He would have sensed it. As I said, he is an Ipsissimus and his power is very great. But it is finite. He can summon demons, create illusions, enhance youth and strength. He can regenerate himself if wounded.' She looked at him closely. 'I sense your confusion,' she said softly. 'What is it?'

'The boy,' said Waylander. 'He obviously loves his uncle. In turn Eldicar Manushan seems fond of him. It is hard to believe the boy is merely a tool.'

'And because of this you doubt whether the Ipsissimus can be truly evil? I do understand that, Grey Man. You humans are wonderful creatures. You can show compassion and love that is awe-inspiring, and hatred of such power and vileness it could darken the sun itself. What you find hard to accept is that such extremes are in each and every one of you. You gaze upon the works of evil men and you tell yourselves that they must be monsters, inhuman and different. Because to accept that they are just like you would threaten the foundations of your existence. Can you not see that you are an example of this, Grey Man? In your hatred and your lust for vengeance you became what you hunted; savage and uncaring, callous and indifferent to suffering. How much further might you have travelled had you not met the priest Dardalion, and been touched by his purity of soul? Eldicar Manushan is not a monster. He is a man. He can laugh and know joy. He can hug a child and feel the warmth of human love. And he can order the death of thousands without regret. He can torture and kill, and rape and maim. It will not touch him.

'Yes, he may love the boy, but he loves power more. The spells of Eldicar Manushan are great, but when cast through a loachai they become enhanced. The boy is a vessel, a source of untapped spiritual energy.'

'You are sure of this?'

'I sense both their energies, the Ipsissimus and the loachai. When joined together they are terrifyingly strong.' She rose from the chair. 'And now you must ride with the Duke, Grey Man,' she said.

'I think I will stay here and sleep for a while,' he told her. 'There must be a hundred men with the Duke. He has no need of me.'

'No, but Kysumu has. Eldicar Manushan will fear the shining sword. He will see the Rajnee dead if he can. Kysumu needs you, Waylander.'

'This is not my fight,' he said, though he knew, even as he spoke, that he could not leave Kysumu to his fate.

'Yes, it is, Waylander. It always was,' she said, moving away towards the door.

'What does that mean?' he asked her.

'This is a time for heroes,' she said softly. 'Even shadow warriors once touched by evil.'

He watched her cross the threshold and draw the door closed behind her. With a soft curse he pushed himself to his feet and walked through to his armoury. From a chest at the rear of the room he removed a heavy linen sack. Placing it on a worktop he opened it, drawing forth a black leather shoulder-guard, reinforced by black mail rings. Returning to the chest he lifted two other wrapped items, followed by a sword-belt hung with two empty scabbards. Carefully he unwrapped the shortswords. Each had a round fist-guard of black iron beneath claw-shaped dark quillons. The bright blades gleamed with oil. Taking up a soft cloth he wiped them clean, careful to avoid the razor-sharp edges. Buckling the sword-belt to his lean waist he slipped the swords into the scabbards.

His baldric, hung with throwing knives, was looped over the back of a chair. Fetching it, he removed each of the six diamond-shaped blades and honed them before slipping them back into place. Donning the chainmail shoulder-guard, he slipped the baldric over his head. Lastly he took up his small, double-winged crossbow and a quiver of twenty bolts.

He strode from his rooms, climbing the steps to the upper buildings and the stable.

Will you ever learn? he asked himself.

Yu Yu Liang awoke to see sunshine streaming through a high-arched window. It was bright upon the white coverlet of his bed. He sighed, and felt a pang of deep regret. His shoulder was painful, though he could not remember why, but the sharpness of it meant he was back in the world of the flesh. Sadness filled his mind, as the feel of the sun and the whisper of a sea breeze leeched away the exquisite harmony he had come to value so highly. A figure loomed over him, the face thin and ascetic, the nose long and curved. 'How are you feeling?' asked the man. The noise was yet another intrusion, and Yu Yu felt the joy of the past years with Qin Chong slipping away. The question was asked again.

'I am flesh again,' responded Yu Yu. 'It saddens me.'

'Flesh? I was talking about your wound, young man.'

'My wound?'

'In your shoulder. You were bitten. The Gentleman and your Chiatze companion brought you. You have been injured, young man. You have been unconscious for around fourteen hours.'

'Hours?' Yu Yu closed his eyes. It was incomprehensible. On his journeys he had seen the birth of worlds, and the fall of stars; great empires rising from the mists of savagery before being swallowed by the oceans. He became aware of a dull, throbbing pain in his left shoulder. 'Why am I back?' he asked.