Aric laughed. 'How is your eye?'

'It hurts, Aric. How do you think it feels? An arrow cut through it, and I had to pluck out both shaft and orb.'

'Then perhaps a small demonstration would aid our negotiation,' said Aric. He turned to Eldicar Manushan. The magicker raised his hand. From the tip of his index finger a blue flame leapt into the air, closing in on itself and swirling, like a tiny, glowing ball.

'What is this?' asked Panagyn. Suddenly the ball sped across the room, flowing through the silver eye-patch. Panagyn fell back with a groan. He swore loudly and scrabbled for his dagger.

'No need for that,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'Stay calm and wait for the pain to pass. The result will surprise you, my lord. The pain should be receding now. What do you feel?'

'An itching in the socket,' muttered Panagyn. 'It feels like something is lodged there.'

'As indeed something is,' said Eldicar. 'Remove your eye-patch.' Panagyn did so. The socket had been stitched tight. Eldicar Manushan touched his finger to the sealed lids. The skin peeled back, the muscles of the lids swelling with new life. 'Open your eye,' ordered the magicker.

Panagyn obeyed him. 'Sweet Heaven!' he whispered. 'I have my sight. It is a miracle.'

'No, merely magic,' said Eldicar, looking at him closely. 'And I didn't quite get the colour right. The iris is a deeper blue in your right eye.'

'Gods, man, I care nothing for the colour,' said Panagyn. 'To be free of pain – and to have two good eyes.' Rising from his chair, he walked to the balcony and stared out over the bay. He swung back to the two men. 'How have you done this?'

'It would take rather an age to explain, my lord. But essentially your body regenerated itself. Eyes are really quite simple. Bones take a little more expertise. Had you, for example, lost an arm it would have taken several weeks – and more than two dozen spells – to regrow. Now, if you will, my lord, take a close look at your cousin.'

'Good to be able to take a close look at anything,' said Panagyn. 'What am I looking for?'

'Does he seem well to you?'

'You mean apart from dyeing his hair and beard?'

'It is not dye,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'I have given him back some ten years or so. He is now a man in his early thirties, and could remain so for several hundred years. Perhaps more.'

'By the gods, he does seem younger,' whispered Panagyn. 'And you could do this for me?'

'Of course.'

'And what do you require in return? The soul of my first-born?' Panagyn forced a laugh, but his eyes showed no humour.

'I am not a demon, Lord Panagyn. I am a man, just as you are. What I require is your friendship, and your loyalty.'

'And this will make me a king?'

'In time. I have an army waiting to enter this land. I do not wish them to have to fight as soon as they arrive. Far better to enter a land that is friendly, that will be a base for expansion. You have upwards of three thousand fighting men. Aric can summon close to four thousand. I do not wish for a battle so early.'

'Where is this army coming from?' asked Panagyn. 'The lands of the Chiatze?'

'No. A gateway will open not thirty miles from here. One thousand of my men will pass through it. It will take time to bring the whole army through. Perhaps a year. Perhaps a little more. But once our base here is established we will conquer the lands of the Chiatze, and beyond. The ancient realm will be restored. And you will be rewarded beyond any dream you can envisage.'

'And what of the others, the Duke, Shastar and Ruall?' asked Panagyn. 'Are they to be included in our venture?'

'Sadly, no,' said Eldicar Manushan. 'The Duke is a man with no understanding of avarice, and no desire for conquest. Shastar and Ruall are loyal to him, and will follow where he leads. No, initially the land of Kydor will be shared between you and your cousin.'

'They are to die, then?' said Panagyn.

'Indeed. Does that trouble you, my lord?'

'Everybody dies,' replied Panagyn, with a smile.

'Not everybody,' observed Aric.

In the nights that followed the attack on the palace many of the servants found difficulty in sleeping. Alone in their rooms as night fell, they would light lanterns and recite prayers. If sleep did come it was light, the merest sound of wind against the window-frames enough to have them wake in a cold sweat. Not so for Keeva, who slept more deeply than she had in years. Deep, dreamless sleep, from which she awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated.

And she knew why. When the demons had come she had not cowered in a corner, but taken up a weapon and used it. Yes, she had been afraid, but the fear had not overcome her. She remembered her uncle, and pictured his face as they sat on the riverbank. 'You'll hear people say that pride is a sin. Ignore them. Pride is vital. Not excessive pride, mind you. That is merely arrogant stupidity. No, being proud of yourself is what counts. Do nothing that is mean and spiteful, petty or cruel. And never give way to evil, no matter what the cost. Be proud, girl. Stand tall.'

'Is that how you have lived your life, Uncle?'

'No. That's why I know how important it is.' Keeva smiled at the memory, as she sat by the bed of the priestess. Ustarte was sleeping peacefully. Keeva heard the Grey Man enter and glanced up at him. He was dressed all in black, the clothes very fine. He beckoned to her and she followed him into the weapons room. 'Ustarte is in danger,' he said.

'She seems to be recovering well.'

'Not from her wounds. She has enemies. Soon they will come for her.' He paused, his dark eyes locking to her gaze.

'What do you want me to do?' she asked.

'What do you want to do?' he countered.

'I don't understand you.'

'You have a choice of two paths, Keeva. One carries you back up the steps to the palace and your room, the other will take you to places you may not want to go.' He gestured towards the far bench. Upon it was laid a pair of soft leather leggings and a double-shouldered hunting jerkin. Beside the clothes was a belt bearing a bone-handled knife.

'These are for me?'

'Only if you want them.'

'What are you saying, Grey Man? Speak plainly.'

'I need someone to take Ustarte from here to a place of – relative – safety. It must be someone with wit and courage, someone who will not panic when the chase begins. I am not asking you to do this, Keeva. I do not have that right. If you choose to return to your room I will think none the worse of you.'

'Where is this place of safety?'

'About a day's ride from here.' He moved in closer to her. 'Give it some thought. I will be with Ustarte.'

Keeva stood alone in the weapons room. Stepping forward, she laid her hand on the hunting jerkin. The leather was soft and lightly oiled. Drawing the hunting knife from its sheath, she hefted it. It was perfectly balanced, and double-edged. Conflicting thoughts assailed her. She owed her life to the Grey Man, and the debt lay heavy upon her. Equally she loved life in the palace. Proud as she was of her part in the fight against the demons, Keeva had no wish to face any further dangers. She had been lucky in the raid upon the village. Camran could have killed her straight away. That luck had doubled with the coming of the Grey Man. But, surely, there was a limit to one person's luck? Keeva felt she would cross that limit were she to agree to escort the priestess.

'What should I do, Uncle?' she whispered.

There was no answer from the dead, but Keeva remembered his oft-repeated advice.

'When in doubt, do what is right, girl.'