Cardinal Certinse, Supreme Commander of the Knights of the Temples, to be anywhere within a hundred miles – and yet here he was, making quiet inroads into his lunch while everyone else waited for Lord Celao to begin. Amber wondered what this unexpected turn of events would mean for their plans.

'Message,' piped a child's voice. Amber looked past his lord to where Ruhen sat beside Natai Escral. The boy sat in the centre, between the big sergeant, Kayel, and the duchess, looking like a mismatched set of parents from some ridiculous romance story. Curiously enough, Sergeant Kayel – to whom Amber bore no similarity, now they were in the magic-deadened valley – was as attentive to the child's needs as the duchess. The man was a better actor than Amber would have given credit.

'Yes dear,' the duchess said in a soothing voice as she gave Knight-Cardinal Certinse a sharp look, 'the message. Lord Styrax, you wish our surrender. Now, while I may be a feeble woman, I cannot but remark that you are a long way from home. The dull little men I employ to pay attention to such matters, they tell me that in the business of war this is considered bad.'

'Yours will not be the first army to have marched from Tor Salan,' Lord Celao added bluntly.

'I have no desire to force anything on you, my honoured guests,' Styrax said smoothly. 'I wish only to present certain inescapable facts.'

Amber recognised his lord's tone of voice; when he spoke in that overly polite way, Lord Styrax was not bluffing a weak hand, but was confident he could back up his threats. There was no need to force the issue, so he could be reasonable. This lunch was so he could look each of the Circle City's rulers in the face and tell them the plain truth: that he could crush them utterly.

Their intelligence had led them to believe that the duchess, a ruthlessly pragmatic woman, would accept her vassal status easily enough. Lord Celao was a coward without an army. The only problem was in Cardinal Sourl's quarter, and that problem was worsened by the presence of Knight-Cardinal Certinse and his army.

Ego, Amber thought, that's what it'll come down to. They're too proud to accept the threat, and perhaps with good reason under normal circumstances our supplies are limited, and Roland and Embere are still Devoted city-States; they may be squabbling for primacy within the Order, but that isn't going to stop them realising who'd be next. They'll prefer to march to Akell's aid than fight us one by one.

'You have yet to present us with facts, my Lord,' the duchess commented, her hand resting on Ruhen's shoulder. Here, in the presence of her peers, she had found some of the poise that had been missing from Amber's first meeting with her. The little boy was obviously still distracting her, but there was nothing wrong with her political senses. She was watching everything that was going on closely.

Lord Styrax inclined his head to the duchess. 'The facts, your Grace, are that I will take the Circle City within the next few days. The only thing you can affect is the manner of that conquest.'

'You're bluffing,' snapped Celao. 'You don't have the troops.'

'I brought with me the tools I needed for the job,' Styrax said mildly. 'Why would I bluff on a poor hand when it would have been simple enough to bring the Second and Fourth Armies with me?'

'Because Tor Salan hasn't been the tea party you thought it would be,' Certinse said. The Knight-Cardinal mopped up the last of his soup and looked up, his mild smile unwavering. 'Without a strong garrison, you'll lose the city again. You need to recruit there before you can conquer the Circle City, and you've not had the time to build a force.'

He broke off when the man beside him, the High Priest of Belarannar, judging by his robe, tapped him on the arm.

Cardinal Sourl, sitting on Certinse's other side, glared at the priest. He was obviously not enjoying his newfound subordinate rank. The cardinal wore military uniform, as befitted his rank of general, but it didn't appear to fit him very well and he looked uncomfortable. He lacked the martial or political power to challenge the Knight-Cardinal's authority, but he had to be irked by the fact his counsel was not even sought, so deeply did the high priest have his claws into Knight-Cardinal Certinse.

And Sourl had lost weight too, since he last wore that uniform. The Menin still knew very little about whatever had enraged the Gods so, but following that event Sourl had apparently taken to preaching to his troops every day, dressed as a priest of Nartis – he had been ordained as such when he joined the Order. The once-noted soldier had been eating like a monk and acting like a zealot, and was no longer the well-built man in his fifth decade they had expected to find.

After a few moments of whispering, Certinse looked up again. 'My Brother-in-creed reminds me that you, Lord Styrax, have built monuments like shrines to your own glory, and you destroyed the Temple of the Sun in Thotel. Such desecration only clarifies our position: the Knights of the Temples cannot accept your rule.'

Lord Styrax leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. 'Indulge me and listen a little longer. I will explain this fully, for your further consideration.'

And all the while, Amber added to himself, while you turn to your priests for advice, we're exploiting that trust you place in them – give it an hour or so and you won't be smiling so easily.

The white-eye was looking pleased. Major Teral had always feared that.

'Gentlemen, greetings,' he began. 'My name is Anote, Duke Vrill, and in accordance with Menin tradition, I am here to offer you the chance to surrender.'

The Devoted officers exchanged looks of amusement. Major Sants might be an arrogant shit, willing to undermine Teral's authority at every opportunity, but he knew how to keep his place when the enemy were watching.

'And what exactly makes you think we would want to surrender?' Teral asked. 'The Fist has never been taken by enemy action, not once in three hundred years, and you've chosen a poor week to threaten us. Our reinforcements have made our biggest concern back there the lack of bunk space. So you are welcome to break your army on the Fist and distract the men for an hour or so.'

Vrill gave a menacing laugh. He had removed his helm to receive the Devoted men and Teral could see his long dark-red hair fell past his shoulder – it was dyed, presumably, since the Menin were supposed to be as dark as Teral's own tribe. The snarling head of an animal Teral didn't recognise topped his helm and his armour was painted white, adorned with red and blue ribbons, and imbued with some magic that made the duke blur slightly when he moved. Teral had seen something like this before and he recognised how difficult it would be to fight a man wearing armour like this.

He was escorted by Bloodsworn, who stared straight ahead. Their lances were stowed and their right hands rested lightly on their saddles, inches from the handles of their long-handled crescent axes.

'Haven't you heard?' Vrill asked, looking in turn at each of the men facing him. 'Lord Styrax took Tor Salan with ease, and their defences were greater than yours. My lord wishes the Circle City to accede to his rule without bloodshed.'

'Your lord,' spat Chaplain Fell, unable to contain himself any longer, 'has abandoned the Gods. He desecrated the Temple of Tsatach and turned away from his Patron God, the Lord of Battle.'

'My lord is fighting and winning battles,' Vrill replied, 'and what is that except serving Karkarn?'

'He shall burn in the black fires of Ghenna!' roared Fell, his hand instinctively going to his mace, but Sants anticipated it and grabbed the chaplain's arm. Fell struggled for a few moments, but he was a small man and couldn't break Sants's grip.

'Duke Vrill,' Teral said in a loud voice, T am the duty commander here, and I have neither the authority nor the desire to negotiate any surrender, unless I am receiving yours. You do not have the men to take us by force, so I am afraid you are wasting your breath.'