Then the civil war could begin, and Kaem would risk his strength against the failing guile of the Emperor. Kaem wandered to the bronze mirror on the far wall and gazed at his reflection. The crown would look out of place upon his bony head, but then he would not have to wear it often.

He returned to his bed, calmer now. And slept.

He found himself on a dark mountain, under strange stars, his mind dazed and confused. Before him was an old man in ragged brown robes. His eyes were closed as he spoke:

'Welcome, general. Do you seek the Armour?'

'Armour?' asked Kaem. 'What armour?'

'The Armour of Bronze. Orien's Armour.'

'He hid it.' said Kaem. 'No man knows where.'

'I know.'

Kaem sat down opposite the old man. Like all students of modern history, he had heard of this Armour. Some claimed it had magical properties which ensured victory to the wearer, but these were simple souls, or saga-poets. Kaem had long studied the process of war and knew that Orien was merely a master strategist. And yet the Armour was a symbol and a powerful one.

'Where is it?' he asked.

The old man did not open his eyes. 'How badly do you desire it?'

'I would like it,' said Kaem, 'but it is not important.'

'How do you define importance?'

'I will win with it, or without it.'

'Are you so sure, general? Purdol resists you and Egel has an army within Skultik.'

'Purdol is mine. It may take a month, but it will fall. And Egel is trapped – he cannot harm me.'

'He can if he has the Armour.'

'How so? Is it magic, then?'

'No, it is merely metal. But it is a symbol and the Drenai will flock to the man who wears it. Even your own soldiers know of its supposed properties and their morale will suffer. You know this is true.'

'Very well,' said Kaem. 'I accept that it could harm me. Where is it?'

'In the lands of the Nadir.'

'That covers a wide area, old man.'

'It is hidden in the heart of the Mountains of the Moon.'

'Why do you tell me this? Who are you?'

'I am a dreamer within a dream – your dream, Kaem. My words are true, and your hopes rest on how you interpret them.'

'How will I find the Armour?'

'Follow the man who seeks it.'

'Who is this man?'

'Whom do you fear most in the world of flesh?'

'Waylander?'

'The same.'

'Why would he seek the Armour? He has no interest in this war.'

'He killed the King for you, Kaem. And yet you hunt him. The Drenai would kill him if they knew and the Vagrians will kill him if they find him. Perhaps he seeks to bargain.'

'How does he know its whereabouts?'

'I told him.'

'Why? What game is this?'

'A game of death, Kaem.'

The old man's eyes opened and Kaem screamed as tongues of fire flashed about him.

And he woke.

For three nights Kaem's dreams were haunted by visions of bronze armour and two fabulous swords. Once he saw the Armour floating above Skultik forest, shining like a second sun. Then it dropped, so slowly, towards the trees and he saw Egel's army bathed in its light. The army grew in number as the trees themselves became men – a vast, invincible force.

On the second night he saw Waylander coming through the trees bearing one of those terrible swords, and then he realised that the assassin was stalking him. He had run, but his legs were weak and heavy and he had watched in horror as Waylander slowly dismembered him.

On the third night he saw himself clad in the Armour of Orien, mounting the marble steps to Vagria's throne. The cheering of the crowds filled him with joy, and when he looked into the eyes of his new subjects he saw adoration.

On the morning of the fourth day, he found his mind wandering as he listened to the reports from his junior generals.

Kaem forced himself to concentrate through the seemingly endless series of small problems which affect an army at war. Supplies were slow from the west, since wagons had proved more scarce than expected; new wagons were under construction. Six hundred horses had been slaughtered near Drenan after a small number had been found coughing blood; it was thought that the disease had been checked. Some breakdown in discipline among the men had been severely dealt with, but it had to be remembered that they were now on short rations.

'What about the Lentrians?' asked Kaem.

Xertes, a young officer distantly related to the Emperor, stepped forward. 'They repulsed our first attack, my lord. But we have now pushed them back.'

'You promised me that with an army of ten thousand you could take Lentria within a week.'

'The men lacked courage,' said Xertes.

'That has never been a Vagrian weakness. What they lacked was leadership.'

'Not from me,' said Xertes fiercely. 'I ordered Misalas to take the high ground on their right flank so that I could push forward with a wedge through their centre. But he failed – it was not my fault.'

'Misalas is light cavalry – leather breastplates and sabres. The enemy right flank was dug in and the hill covered with trees. How in the name of the Spirit did you expect light cavalry to take that position? They were cut to pieces by archers.'

'I will not be humiliated in this way,' shouted Xertes. 'I will write to my uncle.'

'Noble birth does not exclude you from responsibilities,' stated Kaem. 'You made many promises and have fulfilled not one. Pushed back, you say? My understanding is that the Lentrians gave you a bloody nose and then repositioned themselves ready to give you another. I told you to move into Lentria at speed, giving them no time to dig in. What did you do? You camped on their borders and had your scouts examine the land, making it clear to a blind man where you planned to attack. You have cost me two thousand men.'

'That is not fair!'

'Be silent, you worm! You are dismissed from my service. Go home, boy!'

The colour faded from Xertes' face and his hand moved close to his ornate dagger.

Kaem smiled …

Xertes froze, bowed swiftly and marched stiff-legged from the room. Kaem looked around the group: ten officers rigidly at attention, not one set of eyes meeting his own.

'Dismissed,' he said and when they had gone he summoned Dalnor to him. The young officer entered and Kaem offered him a chair.

'Xertes is going home,' said Kaem.

'I heard, my lord.'

'It is a dangerous journey … much could happen.'

'Indeed, my lord.'

'The assassin Waylander, for example?'

'Yes, my lord.'

'The Emperor would be appalled if such a man were to kill someone of royal Vagrian blood.'

'He would indeed, my lord. He would use all his resources to have him tracked down and killed.'

'Then we must ensure that nothing untoward happens to young Xertes. See that he has an escort.'

'I will, my lord.'

'And Dalnor…'

'Yes, my lord.'

'Waylander uses a small crossbow with bolts of black iron.'