'And not even the whole year round. Most of the time, the court would stay in Aulcus. In winter, when the cold snows swept down off the mountains, the Emperor would bring his retinue here. An army of guardsmen, of servants, of cooks, of officials, of princes, and children, and wives, making their way across the plain ahead of the cold winds, taking up residence here for three short months in the echoing halls, the beautiful gardens, the gilded chambers.' Bayaz shook his bald head. 'In times long past, before the war, this place glittered like the sea beneath the rising sun.'

Luthar sniffed. 'So Glustrod tore it down, I suppose?'

'No. It was not in that war, but another that it fell, many years later. A war fought by my order, after the death of Juvens, against his eldest brother.'

'Kanedias,' muttered Quai, 'the Master Maker.'

'A war just as bitter, just as brutal, just as merciless as the one before. And even more was lost. Juvens and Kanedias both, in the end.'

'Not a happy family,' muttered Logen.

'No.' Bayaz frowned up at the mighty wreckage. 'With the death of the Maker, the last of the four sons of Euz, the Old Time ended. We are left only with the ruins, and the tombs, and the myths. Little men, kneeling in the long shadows of the past.'

Ferro stood up in her stirrups. 'There are riders,' she barked, staring off at the horizon. 'Forty or more.'

'Where?' snapped Bayaz, shading his eyes. 'I don't see anything.' Nor could Logen. Only the waving grass and the towering clouds.

Longfoot frowned. 'I see no riders, and I am blessed with perfect vision. Why, I have often been told that—'

'You want to wait until you see them,' hissed Ferro, 'or get off the road before they see us?'

'We'll head into the ruins,' snapped Bayaz over his shoulder. 'And wait for them to pass. Malacus! Turn the cart!'

The wreck of the winter palace was full of shadows, and stillness, and decay. The outsize ruins towered around them, all covered with old ivy and wet moss, streaked and crusted with the droppings of bird and bat. The animals had made the place their palace now. Birds sang from a thousand nests, high in the ancient masonry. Spiders had spun great glistening webs in leaning doorways, heavy with sparkling beads of dew. Tiny lizards sunned themselves in patches of light on the fallen blocks, swarming away as they came near. The rattling of the cart over the broken ground, the footfalls and the hoof beats echoed back from the slimy stones. Everywhere, water dripped, and ran, and plopped in hidden pools.

'Take this, pink.' Ferro slapped her sword into Logen's hands.

'Where are you going?'