'That of my charge, young Goltus. He is fierce as a lion, I tell you, and makes as fine an Emperor as the great men of old! He has captured his greatest rival, his brother Scario, and has shown him mercy.' Zacharus sniffed. 'Not my advice, but the young will have their way. These were the last of Scario's men. Those who would not surrender.' He flapped a careless hand at the corpses, and the birds on his shoulders flapped with him.

'Mercy only goes so far,' observed Bayaz.

'They would not run into the dead land, so here they made their stand, and here they died, in the shadow of the hundred-mile columns. Goltus took the standard of the Third Legion from them. The very standard that Stolicus himself rode into battle under. A relic of the Old Time! Just as you and I are, brother.'

Bayaz did not seem impressed. 'A piece of old cloth. It did these fellows precious little good. Carrying a stretch of moth-food does not make a man Stolicus.'

'Perhaps not. The thing is much faded, truth be told. Its jewels were all torn out and sold long ago to buy weapons.'

'Jewels are a luxury in these days, but everyone needs weapons. Where is your young Emperor now?'

'Already on his way back eastwards with no time even to burn the dead. He is heading for Darmium, to lay siege to the city and hang this madman Cabrian from the walls. Then perhaps we can have peace.'

Bayaz gave a joyless snort. 'Do you even remember what it feels like, to have peace?'

'You might be surprised at what I remember.' And Zacharus' bulging eyes stared down at Bayaz. 'But how are matters in the wider world? How is Yulwei?'

'Watching, as always.'

'And what of our other brother, the shame of our family, the great Prophet Khalul?'

Bayaz' face grew hard. 'He grows in strength. He begins to move. He senses his moment has come.'

'And you mean to stop him, of course?'

'What else should I do?'

'Hmmm. Khalul was in the South, when last I heard, yet you journey westward. Have you lost your way, brother? There is nothing out here but the ruins of the past.'

'There is power in the past.'

'Power? Hah! You never change. Strange company, you ride with, Bayaz. Young Malacus Quai I know, of course. How goes it, teller of tales?' he called out to the apprentice. 'How goes it, talker? How does my brother treat you?'

Quai stayed hunched on his cart. 'Well enough.'

'Well enough? That's all? You have learned to stay silent, then, at least. How did you teach him that, Bayaz? That I never could make him learn.'

Bayaz frowned up at Quai. 'I hardly had to.'