'Who's called?'

Prior Corci, but everyone called him Jackdaw. We brought some holy relics with us and Jackdaw wants them.' Mayel shuddered visibly as he said quietly, He killed someone trying to get at them, so the abbot decided to flee.' By now all the bluster had disappeared and he was just a frightened boy.

Isak stepped back a pace to give him a bit of space. 'Do you know what the relics are?' he asked, his voice less angry now.

Mayel shook his head. 'No, the abbot was careful never to let me see them.'

'But you have your suspicions?' Isak pressed.

'I can't be sure, but both Abbot Doren and Jackdaw are mages. When I went looking for news of my cousin, I also tried to visit the abbot, but I was driven off as soon as I entered the grounds. I got a splitting headache – no, more than that, it was a pain in my head, but not like anything I've ever felt before. It was as if I could feel his presence all around me, but suddenly he was terrifying, not the sickly old man I know. It felt-' He paused. 'It felt like he'd gone mad, and I could feel his fear.' Mayel scowled at the floor and rubbed his cheek. 'I know that sounds ridiculous but I could taste it on the air before I even reached the house. He was a mage, I suppose.'

'Driven mad by fear?' Isak looked fascinated and worried at the same time, a look that was echoed around the room.

Mayel shrugged. 'The house was quite close to your necromancer's; perhaps the relic attracted one of the daemons when they escaped the grounds. The abbot was really paranoid, right from the moment we left the monastery, so a daemon attacking the house could have pushed him the rest of the way.'

'And what is your plan now?'

Mayel didn't answer at first. Nervously, he looked around at the others in the room and tried in vain to read their expressions.

Isak did the same. The only person showing any emotion was Tila, and she was doing a fair job of hiding her anxiety over Vesna's sudden show of fury. Only the set of her lips and poise betrayed her. He wasn't surprised at the other blank faces; it was second nature for spies and career soldiers to hide their feelings.

'I don't have a plan now,' Mayel said reluctantly. 'My cousin's dead, and I can't go back to the abbot. With the city the way it is, I don't know what I'm going to do. No one's going to be hiring while mobs are roaming the streets. Even my cousin's house has been ransacked – by his own men.' There was a trace of indignation in his voice now, and he raised his chin a little defiantly.

'Have you ever considered the life of a fighting man?' said Isak with a grin.

'Not really,' Mayel admitted as he weakly returned the smile. 'People trying to kill me has never appealed; even a monastery sounds better than that.'

'As soon as you go out of that door, people will try to kill you,' Isak said baldly. 'My way, you've at least got a sword in your hand and comrades to keep you alive.'

Relief and suspicion clashed on Mayel's face. 'You mean a sword like that one?' he said hopefully, pointing to Eolis.

'Hah, perhaps not quite like mine,' Isak said with a laugh, instinc-lively jerking the blade away from MayePs attention, 'but I'm sure we can find you something to suit your abilities. One of the men will show you how to avoid sticking yourself with it.'

'Why would you want me?'

'The same reason your abbot did; we're not locals here. We've good Hackers, but none of us are from Scree, so that probably makes you worth feeding.'

He turned to Jachen. 'Take him to whatever dark corner Tiniq and Leshi are lurking in. Our newest recruit is going to tell them exactly how to get to his abbot, so they can go and investigate.'

'Of course.' Jachen remembered not to salute, and beckoned for Mayel to follow him.

'My Lord,' Legana said, once Mayel was out of ear-shot, 'what are my orders?'

Isak cocked his head, trying to decide whether he should send her hack to Zhia Vukotic's side. And what is our next step? he wondered to himself. Is there anything more to do in this city beyond finding a safe way out? I think we've come too late for much else.

'Hoes the vampire know what is happening in Scree?' he said finally.

'She has her suspicions,' Legana answered. 'She believes the on‹ running the sunken theatre are casting some sort of spell thai is affect-ing the whole city. They're followers of Azaer, if King Emin's men are to he believed.'

'Looking at what's going on outside, there's not going to he a city left for much longer, so their plan must he nearing completion.'

Legana inclined her head in agreement.

Isak scratched his neck, 'No doubt the theatre will be exempt from the curfew tonight. Perhaps we'll find our answers there.' He beamed and raised his left hand. Curls of orange flame began to twirl around his white fingers. 'If not, let's burn the bastard down instead.'

CHAPTER 22

From the top of Anhem's Tower, the tallest building in Scree's north¬eastern corner, Rojak watched the first shadows of evening steal over the Land, catching men and beasts unawares, wrapping them in deepening threads of twilight. He looked back at the city, where he could see a squad of brutal Fysthrall soldiers chopping their way though a crowd of locals. The rusty-skinned foreigners were worried these people were working themselves up into a frenzy, as had happened half a dozen times over the last few days, but in truth this lot were crying out for food, not slaughter. The Fysthrall didn't understand their language.

The minstrel smiled. 'Misunderstandings cause such misery, more than ill will could ever manage.'

Is that a challenge?'

Rojak gave a strange, girlish laugh. 'Perhaps not tonight,' he told his master.

Beside him, Ilumene pointed out over the fields, at a towering column of dust they'd been watching as it drew closer. 'It'll be a close-run thing. Who will bother to ask why we have a Devoted army outside the walls? How many in this city would believe that they're here only to protect the sanctity of Scree's temples, as they claim, and not in fact waiting like jackals to feed on the spoils of a failing leader?' He jabbed a thumb to the north. There were parallel thin red scabs running down the thumb from nail to wrist, and he curled it to ensure the cuts remained open. Against the clear pale blue above the horizon a dirty smear indicated the presence of another army. North, where every road led to Farlan lands.

'If those Farlan come any closer, the Devoted's commander will be forced to turn and face them; he'll have to dig in, or risk being raided by the Farlan cavalry every hour. The Farlan will interpret digging in as a gesture of intent and act accordingly.'

'And now it is time for us to give a helping hand, llumene, our favourite son; find us another priest for tonight's entertainment.'

'The show must go on, eh?' Ilumene's weathered face lit up with malicious mirth.

'There will be an audience. The good folk of Scree are consumed by their hatred of everything around them; they have passed the point of no return now,' said the minstrel, dismissing him with a gesture.

llumene ran lightly down the thick stone steps to the street below, past the Hound that Rojak now needed to help him get about. It was obvious to all concerned that what they sardonically called their theatrics was taking its toll on the minstrel, who was becoming in¬creasingly brittle with every passing day.

Rojak looked down at the little finger of his left hand, inspecting his most recent injury. He'd scraped his hand when he'd lost his bal¬ance on the steps, and a good inch of papery skin had been shredded, revealing desiccated grey tissue that did not belong in a living man. As Scree failed, so did he – but the knowledge that this was one more victory he would steal from King Emin elicited a chuckle from his wasted throat. He winced and fumbled for the flask of brandy he carried at all times.