No doubt you'd wear a man's clothes if you could, Zhia thought to herself. Dear me, Lesar! hasn't grown any more subtle with age, has he? Any fool could tell she's ideal for recruitment to the Circle – so didn't they even question it! That girl looks just a little too beautiful and a little too dangerous to be the innocent she would have us think.

'Legana, Haipar, if you would wait outside?' Siala's voice broke into Zhia's musings. 'Mistress Ostia and 1 have business to discuss.'

Zhia felt Siala's eyes on her back as she turned to watch them leave.

'Ostia, you appear to be rather more experienced than 1 had realised,' Siala began as the door closed. '1 would not have expected you to run in the same circles as Haipar – not with her savage reputation.'

Zhia restrained a smile. Oh, if you only knew, you foolish little girl, she thought, but said, 'You know what Haipar is, then?'

'1 do – or at least, 1 have heard stories of her kind. Considering the predicament the Sisterhood finds itself in, we are in need of such fearsome reputations.'

And yet you wouldn't welcome mine. 'That may be, but mercenaries like Haipar are notoriously difficult to control,' Zhia said softly. 'Their value on the battlefield is undeniable, but they can prove tiresome at other times.' She left her comment to sink in and changed the subject. 'Might 1 ask about the man with whom you were just meeting?'

'Who? Oh, the minstrel.' Siala gave a dismissive wave. 'Just the leader of some travelling players with a request.'

'just a travelling player,' Zhia echoed, 'yet he managed to secure I meeting with you? I'm impressed that you find time to sleep if you deal with every scrap of business yourself.'

'Of course I don't, but the man had persuaded an official to request an audience on his behalf.' Siala paused, her eyes becoming slightly vacant and glassy. For a moment, Zhia thought the woman had been enchanted, then she recognised it as puzzlement. 'A strange one, but persuasive. Certainly suited to the stage. I found his voice quite hypnotic'

'And his request?'

'The request? Nothing important. The minstrel wanted to use condemned criminals in one of his plays to make an execution scene real.'

'And your reply?' Something was troubling Zhia: she of all people had few qualms about killing, and she knew full well how best to please a mob, but the man wore an augury chain, and augury chains were not trinkets for the vain. Whether it had been a test for Siala, or something else, there was something more going on. 'Did you allow it?'

'Yes. Do you disapprove?' Siala glared, daring a challenge to her authority.

'Not at all, it was mere curiosity. The man intrigued me.'

'Why?'

'He wore an augury chain, not costume jewellery, but a real one,' Zhia said, interested in Siala's reaction. 'I would guess that no more than a hundred have been made in the last two millennia. The com-plexity, the materials – augury chains are incredibly expensive. That a wandering minstrel has one…' Zhia shrugged. 'What was his name?'

'Augury chains?' Siala looked blank. 'I've never heard of them. He called himself Rojak; he has rented the sunken theatre between Six Temples and the Shambles.'

'Rojak?' The name meant nothing to Zhia. 'If circumstances allow, perhaps I will take in a show after all.'

'Well, before you do,' Siala said brusquely, annoyed that she had been diverted from her intended subject, 'please tell me what hap¬pened in Narkang. The few reports I've had have been patchy at best. It appears you were the only sister of any importance to survive.' Her calm facade slipping, she leaned across the marble desk. 'Is it certain the queen of the Fysthrall died? Were you there?'

Zhia had perfected the look of innocence thousands of years before Siala had been born. Now she knew what Siala wanted to know, and Siala's careful scrutiny would bear no fruit.

'I was not present at the queen's death, no,' she began, a touch of regret in her voice. 'She had assigned me as handler for the pirate Herolen Jex – she had little faith in his intelligence and thought it best to have regular updates.'

Siala hid her disappointment. And your escape from the city?'

'When the attack failed, the city was chads. I found myself in the company of two local mercenaries and once I proved to them that I'd be useful to them alive – and problematic to kill – we fled together. I must assume we were fortunate, for I remember little beyond those frantic periods of running and hiding, and killing those in our way.'

She watched Siala's face as she added, 'We stole some horses and my modest magic was sufficient to keep us hidden from pursuers.'

'And what of the events in the jousting arena?'

'Is there much to know? They had captured the Farlan Krann and were going to bond him to the Queen's service as planned once he was awake. I cannot tell you whether they underestimated his strength, or if King Emin got a rescue party through – I do know the attack was anticipated, not the complete surprise our agents had led us to believe, so the king may well have been prepared.'

Zhia watched emotions flicker in Siala's eyes and felt a moment of amusement. Scree's new ruler was obviously desperate to find out about the Crystal Skull. Possession of the Skull would doubtlessly confer complete control over the White Circle – for someone with enough strength of mind, it might even grant authority over the en¬tire Fysthrall tribe, if she ever ventured beyond the eastern mountains to where they had been banished.

The strongest of the Fysthrall had taken part in the attack on Narkang, all those people gambled away in a desperate attempt to ful¬fil a prophecy, the key mistresses and warleaders lost when Lord Isak called down the wrath of Nartis. The White Circle would not recover its strength in Siala's lifetime, and those that remained this side of the mountains, already divided between cities, would soon discover they had few allies outside their strongholds. The Farlan were not known for their forgiving nature.

'Were we betrayed? Is that how he anticipated the attack?' Siala whispered.

Her thoughts were still on the Skull, but she couldn't ask more without inviting suspicion and curiosity, and Zhia was certain the existence of the Skull was not a secret she'd want to share.

'I doubt that, but King Emin is a clever and well-organised ruler,' Zhia said. 'Perhaps it was unwise to believe we could send an army into his city without his agents noticing.'

'You accuse a dead queen of arrogance?'

'I would not presume to criticise the queen's decisions, but her advisors – Duchess Forell, for example, the senior sister, and a Narkang native: her inadequacies of intellect, information and backbone proved the difference between success and failure. I watched the battle from afar; the opportunity to take the White Palace was within their grasp. Thar battle should have been won.'

Siala sighed and sat down in the monstrously ostentatious ivory and silver chair behind her. A seat of bone… Zhia recalled a rival, a thousand years before, claiming she sat on a throne of her enemy's bones. It had struck Zhia as a ridiculous thing to do, but as a tribute to his originality, she had found a craftsman to make a footstool of his remains.

'Very well, we will speak of this again later. In the meantime I have much to deal with. You have a reputation within the Circle for plan¬ning and common sense, and the Narkang debacle has left us lacking sisters with the necessary ability to pursue the Circle's goals. More than half the Fysthrall Army this side of the Dragonspine Mountains died in Narkang, leaving us dangerously diminished, and there is no sign of reinforcements coming, especially now the tunnel under the mountains has been destroyed.'

'Destroyed?' Zhia exclaimed in genuine surprise. 'I had not heard that.' For once she had been caught out; this piece of welcome news had completely evaded her up to now. The punishment of the Fysthrall for their part in the Great War had been banishment, and only the fortress of Tir Duria, guarded by the descendants of those Fysthrall who had remained loyal to the Gods, allowed passage from that lonely wilderness. Since crossing the mountains had become impossible, the Fysthrall, in typically dour and plodding fashion, had spent nearly two hundred years digging a tunnel. They had help from some rogue devotees of Larat, the God of Magic, among the Menin whose lands bordered the mountain range, but it was rumoured that Lord Styrax had brutally ended that arrangement.