Sha’ik was frowning, one finger tracing a torn corner of the leather cover. ‘Well, one should not be surprised, given that it is a thousand years old. I thank you, Deliverer. Will you now join my band of soldiers? I sense great talents in you.’

Kalam bowed. ‘I cannot. My destiny lies elsewhere.’ Flee, Kalam, before you test the skills of these bodyguards. Flee, before uncertainty kills you.

Her dark eyes narrowed on his searchingly, then widened. ‘I sense something of your desire, though you shield it well. Ride on, then, the way south is open to you. More, you shall have an escort—’

‘I need no escort, Seer—’

‘But you shall have one in any case.’ She gestured and a bulky, ungainly shape appeared from the gloom.

‘Holy One,’ Leoman hissed warningly.

‘You question me?’ Sha’ik snapped.

‘The Toblakai is as an army, nor are my skills lacking, Holy One, yet—’

‘Since I was a child,’ Sha’ik cut in, her voice brittle, ‘one vision has possessed me above all others. I have seen this moment, Leoman, a thousand times. At dawn I shall open the Book, and the Whirlwind shall rise, and I shall emerge from it ... renewed. “Blades in hands and unhanded in wisdom,” such are the wind’s words. Young, yet old. One life whole, another incomplete. I have seen, Leoman!’ She paused, drew a breath. ‘I see no other future but this one. We are safe.’ Sha’ik faced Kalam again. ‘I acquired a ... a pet recently, which I now send with you, for I sense ... possibilities in you, Deliverer.’ She gestured again.

The huge, ungainly shape moved closer and Kalam took an involuntary step backward. His stallion voiced a soft squeal and stood trembling.

Leoman spoke. ‘An aptorian, Deliverer, from the realm of Shadow. Sent into Raraku by Shadowthrone ... to spy. It belongs to Sha’ik now.’

The beast was a nightmare, close to nine feet tall, crouching on two thin hind limbs. A lone foreleg, long and multijointed, jutted down from its strangely bifurcated chest. From a hunched, angular shoulder blade, the demon’s sinuous neck rose to a flat, elongated head. Needle fangs ridged its jawline, which was swept back and naturally grinning like a dolphin’s. Head, neck and limbs were black, while its torso was a dun grey. A single, flat black eye regarded Kalam with appalling awareness.

The assassin saw barely healed scarring on the demon. ‘It’s been in a fight?’

Sha’ik scowled. ‘A D’ivers. Desert wolves. She drove them off—’

‘More like a tactical withdrawal,’ Leoman added dryly. ‘The beast does not eat or drink, so far as we’ve seen. And though the Holy One believes otherwise, it appears to be entirely brainless – that look in its eye is likely a mask hiding very little.’

‘Leoman plagues me with doubts,’ Sha’ik said. ‘It is his chosen task and I grow increasingly weary of it.’