‘The next dawn is the last before the oasis,’ the giant savage said to Leoman. ‘She must undertake the ritual.’

There was silence.

Heboric cleared his throat. ‘Felisin—’

‘Four voices,’ she whispered. ‘No bone, no flesh, just these feeble noises that claim their selves. Four points of view. The Toblakai is pure faith, yet he shall one day lose it all—’

‘It has begun,’ Leoman murmured.

‘And Heboric, the rendered priest without faith, who shall one day discover it anew. Leoman, the master deceiver, who sees the world with eyes more cynical than Heboric in his fitting blindness, yet is ever searching the darkness ... for hope.

‘And finally, Felisin. Ah, now who is this woman in a child’s raiment? Pleasures of the flesh devoid of pleasure. Selves surrendered one after another. Kindness yearned for behind every cruel word she utters. She believes in nothing. A crucible fired clean, empty. Heboric possesses hands unseen and what they now grasp is a power and a truth that he cannot yet sense. Felisin’s hands ... ah, they have grasped and touched, they have been slick and they have been soiled, and yet have held nothing. Life slips through them like a ghost.

‘All was incomplete, Leoman, until Heboric and I came to you. You and your tragic child companion. The Book, Leoman.’

She heard him remove the clasps, heard the tome pulled free of its hide wrapping. ‘Open it,’ she told him.

‘You must open it – nor is it dawn! The ritual—’

‘Open it.’

‘You—’

‘Where is your faith, Leoman? You do not understand, do you? The test is not mine alone. The test is for each of us. Here. Now. Open the Book, Leoman.’

She heard his harsh breathing, heard it slow, heard it gentled by a fierce will. The skin cover crackled softly.

‘What do you see, Leoman?’

He grunted. ‘Nothing, of course. There is no light to see by.’

‘Look again.’

She heard him and the others gasp. A glow the colour of spun gold had begun emanating from the Book of Dryjhna. On all sides came a distant whisper, then a roar. ‘The Whirlwind awakens – but not here, not in the heart of Raraku. The Book, Leoman, what do you see?’

He reached down to touch the first page, peeled it back, then the next, then the one after that. ‘But this is not possible – it is blank! Every page!’

‘You see what you see, Leoman. Close the Book, give it to the Toblakai, now.’

The giant edged forward and crouched down, his massive, bloodstained hands accepting the Book. He did not hesitate.

A warm light bathed his face as he stared down at the first page. She saw tears fill his eyes and run crooked tracks down his scarred cheeks.

‘Such beauty,’ she whispered to him. ‘And beauty makes you weep. Do you know why you feel such sorrow? No, not yet. One day... Close the Book, Toblakai.

‘Heboric—’

‘No.’