Mihn had muttered something under his breath, part of a nursery rhyme maybe, but when Tila had asked, he said it was just the ending of an old poem. She pushed Mihn until he agreed to repeat it.

Reluctantly, in a subdued voice, he recited, 'And even the snakes and the gentry shiver, when the Llehden witch comes riding by.'

Tila shivered. She understood his reluctance now.

'Isak, what happened?' Vesna touched his Lord on the arm, startling Isak from his thoughts. 'With the witch, why were you just staring at each other?' Vesna looked smaller in the bright moonlight, but perhaps he was just overshadowed by the glow of Siulents.

'We were talking,' Isak admitted, and then added, surprisingly, 'I'm sorry. There's so much I've not told you, all of you.'

Carel looked resigned and unsurprised, but Tila was furious that there was yet more she didn't know. Even Mihn stared darkly at his Lord, his silent criticism the hardest to bear.

'I know how you all feel,' Isak started, 'but it can't be tonight. Tomorrow, or when this week is finished and the Land returns to normal.'

'With the Menin invading the west, normal won't be for many years,' muttered Carel.

'I meant when Arian goes away,' Isak clarified. 'This light hurts my eyes – this light hurts much in me. Then I'll explain what I can to you.'

'About the scar too?'

'About the scar,' confirmed Isak. 'And the dreams, and anything else you want.'

Major Ortof-Greyl had been riding ahead with Jeil, but the murmur of voices behind stirred his paranoia. He looked back nervously, even more embarrassed when Tila shot him a dazzling smile. Isak sneered at the man, who was everything he despised: pious, privileged, educated – he'd probably been closeted away from the Land and taught by priests. And all those honed combat skills and a fine scholarly mind: everything blurred before the smile of a pretty, young girl.

Ortof-Greyl awkwardly returned her smile. The beads of sweat on his brow shone in the moonlight.

As Isak watched the major turn back to the road, he saw that the tree line was receding, giving way to pastureland. Rustling grasses shimmered and rippled slowly. The track dipped down, following the contours of the earth, towards a stream. The major's horse instinctively turned to the water, but was pulled back on to the right path, up the slope and to a copse of tall oaks on the peak of a small hill.

Now there were signs of human life. Six hobbled horses stood by the trees, under the supervision of a soldier who waved and beckoned them in. The scarlet of his uniform looked black in the moonlight, his steel shone brightly. From either side of the copse, drawn by the sound of hoofs, trotted a squad of knights, moving slowly so as not to appear aggressive, but as the gentry began to yammer and hiss, every horse stopped dead, fearful of the voices from the shadows.

'You might tell them not to come closer. The gentry seem to object to your presence,' Isak said, deciding he agreed with the forest spirits. The smug piety of the Knights of the Temples was grating – all the more so for the violence the Order had done over the years, always in the name of the Gods. Lord Bahl had said once that religious law was

nothing more than an obscene collection of misinterpretations. Bahl had never been the most forgiving – or accountable – of rulers, but he had never hidden behind religious dogma to justify his actions.

Before the Great War, the Gods had been closer to mortals, making mistakes, lying and cheating each other, playing tricks and breaking promises. Since then, myths and stories of the Gods had been used to justify all sorts of strange, sometimes barbaric laws, from the stoning of wildfowl on prayerday to the summary execution of people whose bedrooms overlooked a temple entrance. The people of Vanach, Far-lan's neighbouring state, were in the grip of religious law; the people there were rumoured to be living in both poverty and terror. That had been a good enough reason for the Chief Steward to recommend the longer southern route around Tor Milist to Narkang – the disputed lands between two avaricious rulers were preferable to the wilful madness of folk living according to scripture.

'The presence of those creatures pollutes this holy place.' The major kept his head low as he spoke.

Isak couldn't tell whether he was repeating by rote or trying to hide his disgust. Free spirits like the gentry were considered blasphemous and unclean by the Devoted. Isak couldn't help wondering why the Gods themselves did nothing to stop them if this was such an obscenity.

'Gods, look at them,' breathed Carel in wonder. For a moment Isak looked around, thinking the gentry had come out into the open, then he realised Carel was staring at the huge weathered standing stones past the trees: roughly hewn blocks of moss-speckled granite. The forbidding stones looked almost dull in the moonlight. All but one of the outer circle were still standing erect, towering ten feet or more into the sky. Thick trails of ivy snaked up their sides, somehow reaching from one stone to the next until it crowned the forgotten temple. The ivy looked black and sinister; Arian's light seemed to slip off its waxy surface and down on to the twigs and acorns that littered the ground. It illuminated two yards of ground inside the ring before the second circle of standing stones, half the height of the outer ring, rose to cast yet more shadows.

The outer stones are called "the Soldiers". The inner ring stones are "the Priests".'

Isak nodded absentmindedly at Mihn's words, scanning the copse until he could make out four men in the centre. Again, they were trying to appear relaxed and non-threatening. It made Isak's palms itch.

The soldiers are supposed to have murdered the priests during a ritual,' Mihn continued quietly. They waited for them to fall into a trance before creeping up and slitting their throats. They were supposed to be protecting the priests. There is disagreement about whether this was a just act or not, but murder certainly took place here.'

'And Belarannar turned them all to stone?'

'No, the soldiers escaped.'

'And the act was justified.' The major's voice was fierce as he glared at Mihn, his hand hovering close to his blade. He had turned back to find his charges. The monks were consorting with daemons, using human sacrifices in the most evil of rituals. The soldiers were men hired to protect the monastery, but they could not ignore the truth. They founded our Order to continue the struggle against the enemies of the Gods. These stones remind my Order of our origins.'

Mihn didn't reply, but dipped his head to acknowledge the major's words.

'Penitence is a wonderful thing,' declared Isak. He caught Vesna's eye and forced a smirk. The count smiled in return. Major Ortof-Greyl kept his mouth firmly shut and endured the jibe silently.

Isak climbed down off his horse and entered the copse on foot. He could feel the weight of Arian's gaze lift from his shoulders – perhaps he was happier here in the shadows. The gentry, spirits that were usu-ally seen only at twilight, when the Gods rested, had accepted him as a brother. What about the other creatures of shadow? Would Azaer now see him as kin or foe?

'You're worried about that, aren't you?' Isak hadn't meant to speak aloud, but it was quietly done and Mihn was the only one close enough to hear. Still, he kept quiet as he continued to speak in his head, Are you scared of finding yourself on the wrong side of this war'! What if the real you comes out only in battle? What if you are the monster you've always feared? Do you trust yourself to be a good and just ruler?