'So his master could torture him again?'

'I don't think so. It was as if the cloak-spell parted for a heartbeat and I caught just a glimpse of his thoughts – more an echo of his emotions. He was saddened and sickened by the torture. His healing of Matze Chai was a tiny act of rebellion. It is mysterious. I feel there is some fact we have overlooked. Something vital. It is like a nagging thought just below the level of consciousness.'

'I have the same feeling,' said Waylander. 'It has been bothering me ever since the battle with the demons. I saw the magicker ripped apart. But just before that I saw him falter. His spell was working, the mist was receding. Then he seemed to lose all confidence. His voice stammered. The mist swept over him. I watched his arm torn from his body. Yet, moments later, his voice rang out again, and he conquered the demons.'

'An Ipsissimus has great power,' said Ustarte.

'Then why did he lose it for those few heartbeats? And why did he not have his loachai with him? Surely that goes against what you told me about a magicker and his loachai. The boy is supposed to be Eldicar's shield.'

'The boy was with Keeva and Yu Yu at the time,' said Ustarte. 'Perhaps when the demons attacked them Eldicar sensed his peril. That could be why he lost concentration.'

'It still makes no sense,' insisted Waylander. 'He leaves his shield behind, and when the shield is in danger he gets ripped apart? No. If the loachai had been sent against the demons, and his master was threatened, it would be understandable. You told me that the master is the one with the real power, and he directs it through his loachai. Therefore if the master was threatened the link to his servant could be severed, leaving the loachai defenceless. But that was not what happened. It was Eldicar who fought the demons.'

Ustarte considered his words. 'He cannot be the loachai,' said Ustarte. 'You say the boy is around eight years old? No child could summon the power of an Ipsissimus, no matter how gifted. Nor do I believe anyone of that age would radiate such consummate evil.'

'Beric is a fine boy,' said Niallad, moving out of the darkness. 'I like him greatly. There is no evil in him.'

'I like him too,' said Waylander, 'but something is not right here. Eldicar told me he did not summon the demons to my home. I believed him. He spoke of Deresh Karany.'

'I know this man,' said Ustarte, her voice cold. 'He is vile beyond all imaginings. But he is a grown man. I would have sensed it had there been more than one Ipsissimus.'' She turned to Niallad. 'You must pardon my intrusion, but I am reading your thoughts, and I need to see events through your memories. Think back to the night your parents were killed.'

'I don't want to do that,' said Niallad, backing away.

'I am sorry,' said Ustarte, 'but it is vital. Please, Niallad.' The young man stood very still. He took a deep breath, and Waylander saw that he was gathering his strength. Then Niallad nodded to Ustarte and closed his eyes.

'Now I see,' whispered Ustarte. 'The boy is there. You see him. He is standing alongside the magicker.'

'Yes, I remember. What point are you making?'

'Think back. How did he seem to you?'

'He was just standing there, watching.'

'Watching the slaughter?'

'I suppose so.'

'His face shows no emotion. Not shock, not surprise, not horror?'

'He is just a child,' said Niallad. 'He probably didn't understand what was happening. He is a wonderful boy.'

Ustarte swung and looked across at Keeva and Emrin. 'All of you are smitten by the boy. Even Matze Chai, as he faced torture, could think only good thoughts of Beric. This is not natural, Grey Man,' she said. She returned her gaze to Niallad. 'Think back now over all the times you have been with Beric. I need to see the events myself.'

'It is not that often,' said Niallad. 'The first time was in the Grey Man's palace. He and I went to the beach.'

'What did you do there?'

'I swam, Beric sat on the sand.'

'He did not swim?'

Niallad smiled. 'No, I teased him about it and threatened to carry him into the water. I reached down but he grabbed on to a rock and I could not lift him.'

'I do not see a rock in your memory,' said Ustarte.

'There must have been. I almost tore my back trying to prise him away.'

Ustarte reached out and took Niallad by the arm. 'Picture his face, as well as you can. Look at it closely. I need to see it! Every detail.' She stood very still, and Waylander saw her jerk, as if stung. She backed away from Niallad, her eyes wide with fear. 'He is not a child,' she whispered. 'He has become a meld-creature.' Waylander moved alongside her.

'Tell me!' he said.

'Your suspicions were correct, Grey Man. Eldicar Manushan is the loachai. The one who appears as a child is Deresh Karany – the Ipsissimus.'

'It cannot be,' whispered Niallad. 'You are wrong!'

'No, Niallad. He is radiating a charm-spell. All who come close are deceived by it. It is fine protection. Who would suspect a golden-haired and beautiful child?'

Ustarte walked away, lost in fearful memories. She had crossed a gateway between worlds to escape Deresh Karany's evil. And now he was here – and all her hopes of victory seemed suddenly frail, as insubstantial as woodsmoke.

She should have known he would come. She should have guessed it would be in a different form. Deresh Karany had become obsessed with the mysterious magic of the meld. He had realized through Ustarte that the possibilities went far beyond the mere physical. The correct balance could enhance the powers of the mind. Already virtually immortal, Deresh desired more. Conducting increasingly grisly experiments on his hapless captives, he sought the key that would unlock the secrets of the meld.

Ustarte had become his passion. She shuddered at the memory. He worked on her endlessly, seeking to find the source of her ability to change form. One day he had her strapped to a table. Sharp knives opened her flesh, and Deresh removed one of her kidneys, replacing it with a spell-charged organ taken from a failed meld. The pain had been indescribable and only Ustarte's great strength had saved her from madness. As she lay in her cell recovering she felt the organ stir within her, like a living creature. Tendrils slid from it, probing along the muscles of her back and into her lungs. Ustarte had gone into a terrible spasm. Her life was being drawn from her, and in her panic she threw herself into the change. The creature within her was crushed, but one tiny tendril broke off and fled deep into Ustarte's skull, nestling against the base of her brain. There it died. Poison seeped from its corpse, hot and burning. Tiger-Ustarte roared furiously, slashing her great paws against the walls of the cell, ripping out great chunks of plaster. Then, as she had with the first poison used on her, Ustarte absorbed it into her system, breaking it down, rendering it harmless. It could no longer kill her, but it did change her.

When Ustarte awoke, back in her own form, she felt different. Faintly dizzy and nauseous she had sat upon the floor, amid the ruins of the furniture torn to shreds by her tiger self. Suddenly her mind opened, and she heard the thoughts of every man and creature within the prison. Simultaneously. The shock made her scream, but she did not hear it. Her mind was full to bursting. Resisting panic, she tried to focus, creating compartments of the mind, which she closed against the tumultuous roar. The most powerful of the thoughts would not be shut out, for they were born of agony.

And they were coming from Prial. Two of Deresh Karany's assistants were experimenting on him.

Anger flooded through Ustarte, and a pulsing, volcanic rage began to build. Rising from the floor she focused on the men – and reached out. The air around her seemed to shiver and part. A fraction of a heartbeat later she found herself standing alongside the torturers within one of the meld-rooms on the other side of the prison. Ustarte's talons ripped through the throat of the first man. The second tried to run, but she leapt upon his back, bearing him to the ground. His head struck the stone floor, shattering the bones of his face.