'Oh, spare me,' the woman growled, pushing her shawl back to reveal lustrous black hair and elegant features. 'They might be daemons, but they're not stupid.'

Purn gave a yelp and staggered back, one hand raise as though to ward off a blow. The woman, bristling with barely restrained anger, stepped towards them, apparently completely unafraid of the weapons they still carried.

Purn gave an unintelligible cry and turned to flee, diving for the bag of books Nai had dropped and hunkering low over them as shadows from all sides appeared up to envelop him.

When the shadows faded away, the necromancer Isherin Purn was nowhere to be seen.

The woman with the short swords started to move forward but stopped at a raised finger from the White Circle mage.

'No, forget him; he'll not have gone far, and with luck he'll deal with some of the creatures he released here so I won't have to bother.' She bestowed a glittering smile on Major Amber, Mikiss and Nai.

Mikiss felt himself shy away from her look as a sense of horror flooded his mind and the fingers holding his sword went numb. 'Now, gentlemen; please be good boys and come quietly.'

Not far away, Abbot Dorn sat in his study behind locked and barred doors, fearfully watching the wildly flickering light cast by an oil lamp on the wall beyond. His hands shook as he felt the heavy footfalls of daemons walking the Land and heard their voices echo out on the rushing streams of magic. Despite the unnatural heat, he felt the room grow cold and the shadows deepen. There was no breeze in the cellar, but the lamp suddenly guttered down to almost nothing, leaving only a trembling finger of light. The abbot reached under the table that served as his desk and slipped open the box there. He withdrew the Crystal Skull and cupped it in both hands, as afraid of the power it contained as he was of the shadows drawing closer.

As soon as he touched the Skull, he realised his mistake: every one of the horrors walking Scree's festering streets noticed the change in the magic-laden atmosphere and turned to find him.

'We see you.' The words whispered around the cellar.

Abbot Doren whimpered and turned around wildly, trying to see wboever was speaking, but there was nothing there. The room was locked and secure; he was alone, except for the shadows.

'We will come for you.'

The abbot crashed into his desk, spilling books and dirty crockery onto the floor. The Skull, its surface slick against his skin, almosl slipped from his hands. Pulling it close to his chest, he tentatively drew on its power. The shadows withdrew, but not far. He could feel them lingering at the edges of his mind, and around his dilapidated home.

'We. can wait,' the voice assured him with a malevolent chuckle 'You are all alone now, and you cannot stay strong for ever.'

'Alone? No, I have Mayel,' Abbot Doren muttered.

'Alone,' the voice continued, cold and assured, 'in a city of enemies, hunted, and all alone… all we need do is wait.'

All through the night the abbot wept silently, hearing that soft laughter in his head. When dawn at last arrived and Mayel had still not returned, he realised the voice had been correct. He was all alone, and the darkness was waiting.

CHAPTER 20

Wakefulness crept uneasily over Mikiss, beginning with an ache behind his eyes and growing into a dull pain that reached through his skull and down his spine. Though his eyes were closed, he still tried to recoil from the light that pierced his eyelids and sparked a strange sense of fear. He tried to move, and discovered that his hands were bound behind his back and his muscles almost cried with fatigue, as though he had been running through the night. His lips were crusted and he moaned with the effort needed to breathe in the dusty sweat-laced air. Exhausted beyond belief, he slumped back down.

He felt something touch his brow. Whatever it was, it felt hot and rasping on his skin, and as he flinched away from it he smelled a man near him, a scent of dirt and grease. Then a waft of perfume, near-imperceptible, reached him from further away. As he tried to recog¬nise it, Mikiss realised how parched his throat was. From somewhere on the other side of the room a chair scraped. He felt it through the stone floor on which he was lying as much as heard it, then sandpaper hands cradled his head and raised him up.

'Awake at last. You must be thirsty.' A woman's voice plucked a string inside him.

Mikiss tried to reply, but nothing came out except a wheeze. He recognised Nai as the person holding him when the necromancer's servant said crossly, 'Damn you, woman, after all you've done to him, you tease him about it?'

'Oh, quiet now,' the strange woman replied tartly. 'Just because your hands are untied doesn't mean your tongue can run loose; if it happens again, Legana will cut it out.'

Mikiss heard the swish of her skirts as the woman walked closer. 'Here, give him some wine to drink. It won't satisfy him, but 1 need him to speak a little more coherently.'

A goblet was held to his lips and Mikiss slurped greedily. When he finally managed to force his encrusted eyes open, the room was nothing more than a blur for a moment, then the outlines of people started to take shape. After a few moments he could make out Major Amber, bound as he was, lying in a corner, and two women standing before a covered window. Groggily, he sat up and tried to focus on the speaker, the woman who'd faced down Isherin Purn.

'What have you done to me?' Mikiss croaked. 'Feels like I've been drugged. How long did I sleep?'

'You slept most of the day, the sun is on its way down now.'

Mikiss winced as he looked at the light behind her. 'Then why is it so bright?'

'Because what I did to you was rather more permanent than drug¬ging,' she said, shrugging. 'You are my prisoners, but I don't care much for interrogation; it's messy, noisy and unreliable.'

He looked up at Nai for answers and saw the strange manservant had a thunderous look on his face. Whatever she'd done, it was bad enough that even the prospect of mutilation would not cow the man.

'I don't understand,' he rasped. 'Why the light? And who are you.''

She sighed. 'How discourteous of me. My name is Zhia Vukotic, and I hope you enjoyed the dawn yesterday, because it is the last you'll ever see.'

'What?' Mikiss tried to rise, but was betrayed by exhaustion. He fell back against Nai, and as he did so, he felt something around bis neck, a bandage of some kind. He stayed silent for a few moments, then almost sobbed, 'You've-'

'I've shared my curse with you, yes,' Zhia Vukotic told him tin patiently. 'Nai, please check the wound.'

The servant growled, but deftly unwrapped the length of material around Mikiss' neck. As he peered down, Mikiss saw his eyes widen and he mouthed a curse before releasing Mikiss and letting him fall to the floor.

'It's almost healed,' Nai said as Mikiss groaned.

'Excellent. Now, Messenger – Mikiss – you can fight this, or you can accept what has happened and get on with it,' the woman said, almost preening. 'It doesn't really matter, because my power over you Is now absolute. You will answer my questions, so the only mallei for debate is how much discomfort you wish to endure before you do so. Do you understand?.''

Mikiss stared at her with a glazed expression. When he turned to

Nai, the servant looked both horrified and disgusted, echoed on Major

Amber's face.

'While we're on the subject of the current state of play, you will all do better if you accept that I own you now. You have committed capital offences in Scree – spying and necromancy – so your lives are forfeit. I offer you clemency, in the form of servitude.' She looked at the woman beside her. 'As Legana knows, I share my secrets only with those who have secrets of their own, but since I can hardly trust any of you yet, I have taken the precaution of placing a small enchant¬ment on you, to prevent you repeating anything said in my presence. Do you understand?'