The air around Aracnan shuddered. 'Enough of your meddling, Lady,' he crowed. 'Your fate awaits you.'

Legana tried to turn and run, but her body would not obey. A savage stream of power from the Crystal Skull in Aracnan's hand lashed out at Fate. Legana was thrown backwards, writhing with agony as bloody slashes appeared on the Lady's body. The roar of power was all around, hammering at her ears, ringing like a gigantic bell through her head. Her screams were drowned out by the brutal energy raging around her.

The Goddess struck back with fire and spear. The light became too intense to bear as the pair fought. The roar intensified and she felt her eardrums burst, but even then the sound refused to cease, it was inside her head, battering at her skull. Legana shuddered as she felt the Lady strike and be wounded in the same moment.

She opened her eyes a fraction to see a frozen moment of violence, with blood streaming in all directions. The white light shone like a savage halo around them. The Lady turned towards her, mouth open, words forming even as she cried out. Legana felt a flame of white fire slice her face and the pain intensified throughout her body even as she was jerked backwards.

She crashed through the outer wall of the chamber, feeling nothing of it, and the blessed blackness of night swallowed her. Legana, wrapped in agony, realised she was screaming with two voices; a mortal's shriek of pain and a Goddess's death-cry. Her body spasmed as it crashed through something else and rolled to an abrupt halt. Three words flashed across Legana's mind: Fate help me. Then she realised that Fate was dead, and unconsciousness claimed her.

CHAPTER 14

'What do you mean, you don't know?' Natai Escral, Duchess of Byora, shouted across her breakfast table. The object of her ire, a sallow-faced marshal called Harin Dyar, shrank back under the force of her demand. Natai was sitting bolt upright, a laden fork pointed at the unusually scruffy officer.

'What use is "I don't know"?' She was alone at the table; although a place had been laid for her husband, matters of state had got her up early, as usual.

Behind her a child started to cry: Minnay, an orphaned toddler, one of her dozen wards. She saw the haggard woman she'd named Eliane standing nearby, Ruhen content in her arms after half an hour of crawling around on the floor under Natai's supervision.

Qood, I didn't disturb him, she thought with a smile. I wouldn't want him to cry – that sound breaks my heart.

'Ah, your Grace, Hale is effectively locked down,' Dyar stammered after a few moments. 'I cannot get any of my troops in to investigate.'

'Locked down?' she hissed, still angry, but mindful of Ruhen's presence. 'You mean you've allowed a handful of crippled old men to keep my soldiers from my own damn city?'

'Your Grace, we will need to use force to get into the quarter,' Dyar protested, 'and I do not have enough men – Hale's penitents outnumber those under my command.'

' Marshal, how is it you cannot even brief me on what has happened? Why does the Byoran Guard not hold these streets?' She looked around, as if her wards – or the four nurses tending them -could provide answers where Dyar could not. The room, one of the largest in the palace, had once been a communal chamber for her grandfather's harem. It was both opulent and elegant, and Natai spent much of her leisure time there, surrounded by children.

No one spoke. The nurses all looked away, trying not to catch her eye. Eliane stared at the floor – but she rarely did much else. Since she had been saved from being trampled in Criers Square, Eliane had managed to frustrate all attempts to build up her painfully thin frame. Nor had anyone been able to coax any word of her past out of her. She claimed to have no memory of what had happened before she reached Byora, but Natai didn't believe it. Something in Eliane's eyes betrayed a damaged soul, a fear so deep it had become part of her. Despite her apparent ill-health, her production of milk remained healthy and Ruhen was thriving, even while his mother wasted away. All she did was to clutch that damn book, and she wailed like a daemon if anyone tried to take it from her.

'Your Grace?' called a voice.

Natai jerked her head up, looking at Dyar, before realising he and his aides were staring, astonished, at one of the soldiers at the door.

What in the name of the Qods? Who's that impudent-? Natai's thought went unfinished, for the face was familiar. He wore the crimson tunic and black trousers of her guard, but he had added what appeared to be long armoured gloves. The uniform was pristine, but the gloves, blue-sheened metal bound by a random crisscross of twine, were battered. They triggered the memory.

Ah., Ruhen's protector, of course, Natai told herself. 'Sergeant Kayel, isn't it?' she asked.

He saluted awkwardly. 'Honoured you remember, ma'am.'

Ma'am? I'm not some damned merchant's wife, she thought, but before she could chastise the man she found herself turning towards Eliane and the child. Ruhen was smiling up at the painted birds wheeling around the various aspects of Hit and Vellern. The whole chamber was decorated in such a way – a lot more wholesome for innocent young children than the original paintings. She hesitated, snared by Ruhen's shining smile, and by the time she remembered herself, her anger had disappeared.

She turned back to the soldier. 'You have something to add, Sergeant?'

'Yes, your Grace. I was in Hale last night. Can't tell you exactly what's going on, but I caught sight of a right mess in Alterr's temple and some young novice was chatterin' that the high priest had died.'

'Lier is dead?' Natai went white. 'Gods, how could that have happened? You said a mess, what sort of mess?'

Kayel grinned. 'Looked like it'd been hit by a siege weapon, 'cept the wall of the greater chamber had been blown out, not inwards. Lots of armed penitents around, and a right ugly mood. Someone said something about the Lady, or a priestess* of the Lady, bein' involved.'

'The Lady? Could this be a feud between temples?' Natai stopped suddenly as she had a chilling thought. 'A feud between Gods?'

'Perhaps, ma'am, but there's a whole lot of anger over there, and men runnin' around lookin' for someone to blame.'

'What were you doing in the Temple District so late at night?' she asked, then worked it out before he replied. 'Ah, a little praying at Etesia's temple?'

Kayel shifted his feet. 'Spoke a few words at the Temple of Death too.'

'Are you suggesting that sending troops to investigate will cause a full-scale riot?'

'I'm sayin' they looked like they were ready to start a fight given the first excuse. Might not stop at a riot either way.'

'Do you have any suggestions for Marshal Dyar then?' She had meant to mock the marshal's ineffectiveness but Kayel didn't hesitate.

'Find a mage to tell you what's happened. Then when the district is open again send some men in without uniforms; see who's doin' all the talkin', who's doin' the blamin'. There's always some bastard who don't care what happened, only how to use it to their own ends.'

'You really think this will escalate?'

The sergeant shrugged. 'You want to take the risk? Wasn't the High Priest of Alterr tryin' to tell you how to run the city?'

Natai almost laughed at his implication until she realised he was entirely serious.

'Wouldn't be surprised if they done it themselves,' Kayel added, 'but my money's on you gettin' the blame whichever way.'

She stared down at the breakfast she had abandoned. The Circle City was a playground of intrigue: four distinct domains, and until recently, four very different leaders. The White Circle leaders of Fortinn had fled and the quarter was now ruled by a triumvirate appointed by the three remaining leaders. It was a temporary solution suggested by the duchess herself.