Riv could see the two figures escorted in the midst of the Ben-Elim. One was the Ben-Elim Adonai, the friend of Kol. He had feasted with Aphra’s hundred the night Riv had kicked Vald in the stones, been seated on the table of honour, alongside Aphra. His skin was pale as milk, eyes dark hollows. The warrior beside him lifted her head. It was Estel, who had been sitting on the bench beside him the same night. Her eyes were red for weeping, face twisted with shame.

‘They are accused of improper relations,’ Israfil continued, ‘of behaving in a manner which has been deemed unacceptable between a Ben-Elim and a mortal of the Banished Lands.’

Whispered murmurs rippled around the chamber. Riv felt herself lurch in her seat, the horror of Israfil’s statement like a blow.

‘Elyon the Maker created us all,’ Israfil continued, ‘but the Ben-Elim he created as beings of spirit, without the desires of the flesh. We have become flesh now, as you humans are flesh, but that does not mean he created Ben-Elim and humans to lie one with the other. We Ben-Elim are the Sons of the Mighty, the Separate Ones, that is how Elyon made us, and that is how we shall remain!’ He held a hand up as shouts rang out. ‘These two have not committed that foul act, or their lives would be forfeit. But they have acted improperly, one with the other, and committed acts which if left unpunished may lead to the Great Transgression. To mix the blood of eternal with mortal.’ He paused there, his eyes blazing with wrath. ‘We are Ben-Elim, separate, pure, created so by Elyon. Our blood cannot become diluted, mutated. And that truth is the same for the mortals of these Banished Lands, whether mankind or giant.’ He paused, looking down contemptuously upon Adonai. ‘You would make us less, your thoughtless act threatening to bring upon this earth a new, tainted breed, corrupted by the weakness of human emotion, ruled by the desires of the flesh, rather than Elyon’s Lore. You would make us too weak to enforce the Lore of Elyon.’ He almost spat those last words, took a long, trembling breath to compose himself. ‘We were created separate, and our blood must remain so. The Lore demands it. By pain of death.’

He turned to the Ben-Elim flanking Adonai and nodded to them, at the same time drawing his sword.

The Ben-Elim gripped Adonai and forced him to his knees.

A hush fell across the chamber, across the whole of Drassil, it felt to Riv.

Adonai looked up at Israfil as he approached.

‘Don’t do this,’ Adonai whispered, though his voice carried across the crowds. ‘We are all Elyon’s creation.’ His eyes flickered to the Ben-Elim standing guard about him, lingering for a moment upon Kol. He stared back at Adonai with hard eyes.

‘Be silent, Lore-breaker,’ Israfil roared as he stood before Adonai.