'I once went into the ruins of a house destroyed by an earthquake,' said Kysumu. 'Everything was smashed. But a perfect egg was sitting in a broken plate.'

'These demons are obviously not interested in the dead,' said the Grey Man, 'unless they have killed them themselves. There were more than thirty people here,' he continued, 'not counting Mendyr Syn and his three helpers. Thirty souls sent screaming to the Void.'

The third level, the medical library, showed no sign of ice damage. The door to the office of Mendyr Syn was open, many of his papers scattered upon the two desks. The Grey Man searched the room, finding Ustarte's gold-ringed blue crystal below a pile of papers. Tucking it into his pocket, he left the office and continued up the stairs to the guest suites. Here the corridor carpets were wet, the walls cold.

Opening the door to Matze Chai's suite, the Grey Man moved across the silk Chiatze rugs and through into the bedroom. The first of the dawn light was filtering through the pale blinds. For the first time since the search had begun Kysumu saw the Grey Man relax. A low chuckle sounded from him.

Matze Chai opened his eyes and yawned. He glanced at the bedside table. 'Where is my tisane?' he asked.

'It will be a little late this morning,' said the Grey Man.

'Dakeyras? What is happening?' Matze Chai sat up, his pale blue nightcap falling from his head, revealing the carefully tied net that held his lacquered hair in place.

'I am sorry to disturb your rest, my dear friend,' said the Grey Man softly, 'but we feared you were dead. The demons came to the palace last night. Many people were killed. I shall leave you now and send your servants to you.'

'Most kind,' said Matze Chai.

The Grey Man left the room.

Kysumu bowed to Matze Chai and followed him. 'His life is charmed,' observed Kysumu.

'It is a great relief to me,' said the Grey Man. 'Matze Chai is a good friend – perhaps my only friend. He is incorruptible and loyal. It would have hurt me deeply had he been among the slain.'

'Why did he survive, do you think?' asked Kysumu.

The Grey Man shrugged. 'Who can say? Matze always takes a sleeping draught. Perhaps it lowered his heart rate and they did not sense him. Or maybe, since the creatures feed on flesh, they sought out younger meat. Matze may be a fine man, but there's precious little fat on those old bones.'

'I am glad to see your mood has lifted a little,' said Kysumu.

'Not by much,' said the Grey Man. 'You go back to the lawns. Tell Emrin to fetch Matze's servants.'

'Where will you go?'

'To the North Tower.'

'We have not searched that yet. You think it safe?'

'The demons have gone. I can feel it.'

The Grey Man slipped the bolts from his crossbow, returning them to the quiver by his side. Without another word he strode off.

Chapter Nine

Waylander kept moving until he was out of sight of the Rajnee then sat down on a velvet-covered bench seat in the corridor. His relief at the survival of Matze Chai was overwhelming, and he could feel his hands trembling. Leaning back against the wall, he took several deep, calming breaths. The death of Mendyr Syn and Omri saddened him greatly, but he had known them for only a short while. Matze Chai had been part of his life for three decades, a solid anchor he could always rely upon. He had not, however, realized until this day how much he cared for the old man.

But with the relief came a deeper anger, a cold and terrible resentment against the arrogant cruelty of men who were willing to visit such terror on innocent victims. Ultimately, he knew, wars were never about simple issues like right and wrong. They were launched by men who lusted after power. They did not care about the victims like Omri or Mendyr Syn. They lived for fame, and all the empty, fruitless joys it brought. One man like Omri was worth ten thousand of such killers, he thought.

Having recovered his composure Waylander moved on at a lope, scaling the stairs of the North Tower two at a time. He slowed when he reached the first level. Shelves had been torn from the walls, and manuscripts, scrolls and leatherbound volumes were scattered across the floor. Kneeling, he touched his hand to the carpet. It was wet and cold. To the left were two eight-foot stains upon the floor. Dark blood was spattered around them. Ustarte's followers, it seemed, had fought well.

Treading carefully through the debris he reached the second stairwell and climbed once more. As he turned a corner he saw the body of a huge, golden wolf, its belly ripped open, its golden eyes glazing. The body twitched as he approached and it tried to raise its head. Then it slumped down and died.

Climbing past the dead beast he came across two more bodies, those of the acolytes who had followed Ustarte. Waylander struggled to remember their names. Prial was one. He was lying upon his back, his chest open, ribs splayed. The other lay close by. Huge talon marks were on his back, and the lower part of his spine was jutting from his body.

Waylander stepped over them. The door to Ustarte's apartments had been torn from its hinges. He moved into the doorway and scanned the room. Furniture had been hurled against the walls, the ornate carpet was ripped in places, and there was blood upon the floor and walls. There was no sign of Ustarte. Waylander moved to the window. Upon the sill was a bloody smear. Leaning out, he looked down. Two floors below was a balcony. A patch of blood showed on the balustrade.

Retracing his steps he returned to the stairs. The body of the golden wolf had vanished. In its place lay the third of Ustarte's acolytes.

Waylander walked to the front of the palace, where Emrin was anxiously waiting.

'The palace is clear,' said Waylander. Tell the servants they can return to their rooms.'

'Yes, sir. Quite a few have left your service. They have gone to Carlis. Even those who remain are frightened.'

'I don't blame them. Send some men to fetch the bodies from the Long Kitchens and the North Tower library. And set the servants tasks to take their minds from their fear. Tell them all there will be an extra month's salary to compensate for the terror they have endured.'

'Yes, sir. They will be most grateful. Did you find the priestess?'

'She and her people are dead.' Waylander looked into the young man's eyes. 'With Omri gone I need someone to manage the household. That role is yours for now. Your salary is doubled.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'No need to thank me. It is an arduous duty and you will earn your pay. Have the wagons left?'

'Yes, sir. I also sent riders to the hospital in Carlis, where Mendyr Syn's two assistants are working. They should be here soon to help with the wounded.'

Waylander moved across to where Yu Yu Liang was sitting with his back to a tree. Keeva was beside him, her arm still around the shoulders of the blond page. The boy looked up at Waylander and gave a nervous smile.

'Were you very frightened?' Waylander asked the boy.

'Yes, sir. Is my uncle safe?'

'He was when last I saw him.' He turned his attention to Yu Yu. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Like I want to be ditch-digger again,' said Yu Yu. 'Like I could throw this puking sword in sea and go home.'

'You can do that,' said Waylander. 'You are a free man.'

'Later,' said Yu Yu, 'but first we have to find Men of Clay.'

Many of the servants were reluctant to return to the palace, but as the boldest of them moved through the doors most of the others followed. Another fifteen joined the thirty who had already quit the Grey Man's service and journeyed to Carlis.

Waylander walked out through the banquet hall and found Kysumu sitting cross-legged on the terrace stones. The Rajnee's arms were extended outwards, his head bowed. Waylander moved silently past him, leaving the warrior to his meditation.