'So can you do any fortune-telling for me?' Isak hadn't intended it to sound sarcastic, but Fedei stiffened nonetheless.

His voice was frosty. 'Perhaps later. For now, I would like to hear

about you.'

Isak nodded quickly, annoyed with himself for putting the Seer's back up when the man had been so welcoming. 'Of course – though I doubt there is much you don't know.' 'Did you meet Morghien on the road?'

Isak jerked in surprise. He had expected questions about his gifts-Only then did he realise that, unlike most people with any magical ability at all, the Seer had hardly glanced at Eolis. Like Morghien, he actually sounded more interested in Isak.

'I, ah, yes. How did you know that? Did you send him?' 'Send Morghien? Hah! A man such as that isn't sent by the likes ot me. I just knew he was in these parts, and Morghien has always had the habit of casually meeting interesting people. He's a curious one,

that's for sure. I first heard his tale when I was studying as a young man; I’m approaching seventy summers now.' He laughed at Isak's sceptical expression. 'You find that so strange? Those who live unnatural lives often find the effects of time slowed. You yourself will stop outwardly ageing around thirty summers.

'In any event, Morghien visited me less than a fortnight ago. I don't know much about him, but his interests frequently coincide with my own, and he is interested in my enduring well-being. I'll wager he told you only the bare minimum about himself.'

Isak nodded. 'Is there much more to know?'

'I'm not sure myself,' Fedei said, 'but what I do know could endanger others, so this isn't a topic lightly discussed.' 'How? What enemies could you have?'

'The Knights of the Temples, for a start. They dislike academics on principle.' Now Fedei gave his guest a nervous smile, his fingers anxiously working at the trim of his shirt. 'And the dear ladies of the White Circle: they appear to be courting power for reasons I cannot yet understand and I doubt they will be so tolerant of this region if they succeed in taking Tor Milist.'

'No, there's more to it than that,' Isak pressed. 'What are you involved in?'

The Seer sagged visibly. 'I dislike this; we've been so careful for years,' he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

'Dislike what?' Isak was getting increasingly confused.

He straightened up. 'You know of Verliq, the mage, yes? What you perhaps didn't know is that he founded a school, one unlike any the Land has known since before the Great War. To ensure his teachings were not lost, Verliq sent many of his works away with his pupils, before the Menin invasion; that's how the West knows of him at all. His students were persecuted in every city, but they endured, and taught pupils of their own, in secret. Among those who know, they're referred to as Verliq's Children. In every city-state in the Land there are men who have his works hidden in their libraries, who believe that learning should never be heresy, even if it contravenes political dogma of the day.'

‘And why are you telling me this? If anyone represents political dogma it's me.' Isak felt a familiar uncomfortable stir in his gut. There was more to this than he was being told; he could practically taste schemes, plots, and secrets.

'And that is why I dislike this, but Morghien says we must trust you.'

'Morghien? He'd not even met me then – and why didn't he tell me this when he did find me?' Isak knew he was sounding petulant, but he was trying hard not to lose his temper.

'Morghien takes his time over everything. You'll never learn the full story in one sitting from him, sometimes for his safety and sometimes for your own. It doesn't take a Seer to know that we've entered the Age of Fulfilment, and we should fear it. What little powers I do have show me a shadow falling over the future.'

'What sort of shadow?' There was something in Fedei's tone that Isak recognised all too well.

'Everything I see is overlaid by a shadow, and the further I look, the thicker it gets. It masses on the horizon like a storm cloud. I don't know enough to explain what it means; King Emin is the one for that. He and Morghien are preparing for something. You are important and I must help you in whatever way you need.'

'How does Morghien know so much?' Isak asked, crossly. 'The man looks like a tramp; how in Nartis's name is he in league with the King of Narkang?'

'There is more to Morghien than is apparent: he and Emin are a pair in that sense. It dates back to an expedition into the Elven Waste more than a hundred years ago, led by one of Verliq's Children. They went to explore a ruined castle, with a division of Knights of the Temples providing escort. The locals were supposedly friendly, but…'

'So they never came back from the waste? That's not even surprising, hardly some dark mystery.'

'Morghien came back, alone. I doubt anyone but Emin knows the truth of what actually happened, but if you mention the expedition to Morghien- Well, best that you do not. It was after that Morghien started travelling the Land, tracking down Verliq's Children, keeping the links between them alive. King Emin employs a handful of men who assist him in this, perhaps only twenty or thirty in all, but they're as lethal as Harlequins, and utterly loyal to him.'

'You've met them?'

'They deliver messages, ask for news, offer help if I need it-'

'Help?'

'I have no use for them myself, but I've heard rumours: competit-

ors disappearing, mysterious fires, city rulers suddenly going back on decisions. There's never anything definite, of course, nothing that could be laid at their door, but they bring letters whenever they come and sometimes I can trace the hand of fortune to their footsteps.

'There's a famous gang of criminals in Narkang, the Brotherhood. That's the name they use. You can recognise them by a black tattoo on their left ear, very small and easy to miss, an elven rune meaning "heart" – though I don't know the significance.'

Isak's entire body went rigid and only by a huge effort did he manage to prevent his hand going to the scar on his chest. How many years had they been using that symbol? Could they have known? He was certain Xeliath had been telling him the truth, for the connection to her was undeniable, burned into his skin and quite sensitive enough to recognise a lie.

Isak barely registered the knock at the door; it was Fedei who jumped at the sound, flushing guiltily as he hopped up from his seat. Isak saw the panic on Fedei's face: this man who'd taken a white-eye by the arm and virtually dragged him inside was nervous even talking about the Brotherhood.

'Come,' Fedei eventually called and Ahden strode in with a tray piled high balanced carefully in his hands. Isak helped him lay out the dishes on a side table, then set about them with a will, suddenly starving, and glad of the interruption. The scar on his chest felt tight, constrained, against the beat of his heart.

Eventually, Fedei could stand no more and noisily cleared his throat. 'Speaking of symbols, I see your crest is a crowned dragon. Did the Heraldic Library properly appoint it?'

Isak nodded. 'What of it?'

'Well, the dragon is a portentous symbol. I suppose it is to be expected, but those who have also worn it include Deverk Grast and Aliax Versit.'

'Versit? The Yeetatchen Lord who sacked Merlat?'

'And was only defeated within sight of Tirah. That was him. Grast was the Menin ruler who almost wiped out the Litse, before forcing his tribe to take the Long March. Both men were followed by destruction their entire lives.'

'Did either have a crowned dragon?'

Fedei squirmed under Isak's gaze. 'No. I've never heard of any man to have that,' he said quietly, staring at the floor.

'Tell me about your work,' said Isak suddenly.