‘Greetings, old enemy!’ came a bellow that made Shimmer jump. It was the Jaghut, coming down the slope, awkwardly, stepping sideways. Her descendants were arrayed before her, spears lowered and swords readied.

Fisher and Jethiss accompanied her.

Ut’el straightened in obvious recognition. ‘I did not think to see you again,’ he answered. He pointed a withered finger to the lad, Orman. ‘That is my spear you hold.’

‘You deserve it,’ Orman grated. He raised it to throw.

The Jaghut reached out and lowered the spear-point with her hand. ‘There will be no hostilities. We are in the shadow of the Forkrul.’

Ut’el turned his flat dried mien to right and left. ‘I see them not. They sleep – as is their nature.’

‘Dare you risk that?’

He waved to encompass everyone with her. ‘Dare you?’

She crossed her arms. ‘We are at stalemate, then.’

The Imass edged his head beneath its bear skull in the faintest of negatives. ‘I think not. You yet have everything to lose. While we … possess nothing.’

‘I believe you will find that you are wrong in that, Ut’el,’ K’azz said, loudly and suddenly. He lowered his head a touch to indicate the lower slope. Ut’el and the one with him turned. An instant later, all the Imass turned as well.

Shimmer peered past them: what looked to be four more T’lan Imass approached. She could see nothing in this – four more meant nothing as there were already too many to withstand. Yet what of K’azz and his defeat of one? There was something in that – some hint of an idea that, for some reason, she could not bring into focus. Something that made her look away from her commander.

The four proved to be two obvious T’lan and two living women – one old, the other of middle-age. From the manner in which the two T’lan followed the older woman, Shimmer thought her the leader, though the other woman, dark and wind-tanned, stood apart.

To Shimmer’s astonishment, the gathered T’lan Imass knelt to one knee before the old woman in her worn tanned leathers and necklaces of turquoise and green jade. Ut’el, the leader, knelt as well, murmuring, ‘Summoner. You honour us.’

‘You are?’ she demanded.

‘Ut’el, Bonecaster to the Kerluhm.’

The woman turned from him to rest her attention upon the other Imass. This one stood firm and impassive beneath her hard gaze. ‘Lanas,’ the woman said at last, and there was no welcome in her voice.

The Imass dipped her head, the teeth and stones woven into her remaining white hair clattering in the chill air. ‘Summoner.’

From what she’d heard of events in south Genabackis, Shimmer now understood this Summoner to be Silverfox, a living Imass Bonecaster – the first in millennia. And born, it was said, to fulfil their Vow. This must be so, she decided, as she noted how Silverfox ignored the Jaghut matriarch. Yet the surviving Iceblood, the Heels and the Sayers, were lined up before their ancestor, ready to defend her. Standing apart was the small grouping of Kyle, Fisher and the Tiste Andii. It occurred to her that, being from this region, Kyle might also be a target of the Imass. She signed to K’azz: Shall we defend?