“Much more than even you know,” Tenebrae said. “We will need to meet with her, of course. Our encounters in the past few months have been too brief, and we need to accurately form an opinion of her ability.”

“Of course, High Priest.”

Quiver spoke up. “If she is suitable, she will have to be monitored closely to be kept on the right path. History cannot be allowed to repeat itself.”

“Agreed,” said Wreath, then hesitated. “Your Eminence, if I may return for a moment to the delicate subject of Lord Vile…”

Tenebrae looked displeased, and Craven stood at the High Priest’s elbow and copied the look remarkably well. Nevertheless, Wreath continued.

“It seems to me that the closer we get to the Passage, the higher the likelihood of stern opposition from non-believers and enemies alike. News will travel and rumours will spread.”

“Are you afraid of rumours, Wreath?” Craven laughed. “Are you afraid of idle chatter? Perhaps you are not the man we thought you were. Perhaps you are unsuited to be our representative outside the Temple.”

“Then who will take my place?” Wreath answered icily. “You? If all my post required was a staggering expertise at fawning, then you’d be welcome to it.”

“How dare you!” Craven practically screeched.

Wreath took a sudden step towards him and Craven stumbled over his own robe to get away.

“Enough!” growled the High Priest. “Solomon, you’re concerned that these rumours will reach unwelcome ears, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Such a concern is reasonable, but I can assure you, you need not worry. The Necromancer Order is stronger now than it was during the war with Mevolent. We are more than capable of dealing with trouble, should it arise.”

“With respect, sir, this is more than mere trouble. Forgive the melodrama of what I am about to say, but if the news that we are preparing for the Passage were to reach whatever corner of the world he has secluded himself in, Lord Vile will return to destroy us all.”

“In that case,” High Priest Tenebrae said with a patient smile, “we need to be sure that Valkyrie Cain is strong enough to kill him for us, now don’t we?”

43 THE ROAD TO CROKE PARK

43
THE ROAD TO CROKE PARK

Valkyrie walked into a room with a massive tub built into the floor. There was a bouquet of flowers arranged in a delicate vase on a nearby table. The huge tub was filled to the brim with mud, and for a moment Valkyrie thought the mud had eyes, which opened as she came in and blinked up at her.

“Hey, Val,” the mud said.

“Hey, Tanith,” Valkyrie said back. “You’ve got something on your face…”

Tanith’s mud-covered features broke into a small smile. “Ghastly already made that joke when he brought me the flowers.”

“That was nice of him,” Valkyrie said. She pulled up the only chair in the room, and sat. “How are your hands?”