“Battle Mistress!” a voice called out in the sudden silence. It was the odd mage who’d killed the ferali. His eyes were unfocused. He smelled strange to Logan’s sensitive nose. He laughed suddenly, then stopped and said somberly, “Battle Mistress, you’re needed in the Hall of Winds! Come, quickly, or Midcyru is dead!” He turned to Logan. “High King, summon every man you’d have live to see the night!”

Jenine was staring at the madman with horror.

“Who is this man?” Logan demanded. High King?

The mage had made it onto the balcony. He held a thick gold chain in his hands, but abruptly seemed lost.

“Dorian,” Jenine said. “Gods, what have you done?”

“Dead to me. Not dead but dead to me,” Dorian mumbled.

“He’s a prophet,” Solon said, following in Dorian’s wake. “What he speaks is true. There’s no time, Your Majesty. We must go!”

Jenine was crying. Logan pulled her into his arms, not knowing exactly what her tears were for.

The ground trembled and sound rolled over the whole land, like the earth itself was sighing.

Solon swore a string of curses. “Neph’s done it. Damn him. He’s broken Jorsin’s spell.” Solon was staring at the black dust that covered everything within miles. It suddenly congealed, forming a thin sludge everywhere.

Logan turned to the Sethi king. “You’re sure of this man? You’d bet sixty thousand souls on his word?”

“That and more,” Solon said.

Dorian wept. Solon took the great gold chain from his hands and draped it over Logan’s shoulders.

Logan turned to Vi. “Send up flares. All our armies to the castle, immediately. And then get yourself there. Fast.”

96

Kylar and Durzo approached the Hall of Winds together, unlimbering their swords as one. Both men were liberally spattered with blood. They paused outside a rosewood side door. “You ready?” Kylar asked.

“I hate this part,” Durzo said.

“Relax, I killed four Vürdmeisters once, didn’t I?” Kylar asked, grinning evilly.

“There are two hundred Vürdmeisters in there.”

“There is that,” Kylar admitted.

“All right, we do the highlanders guarding the door in no more than five seconds. Then you draw the Vürdmeisters’ attention, and I go for Neph Dada,” Durzo said. He shrugged. “It might work.”

“Not likely.” Kylar patted Durzo’s back.

Muted light flared to the tip of Curoch. Kylar threw open the door and Durzo dashed inside.

The four highlanders guarding the side door had their backs to them. In less than two seconds, all four were dying. Only after killing his two did Durzo allow himself to take in what everyone else was staring at.