This trail and its goal has naught to do with Sha’ik. We have been led far from the places of such activity, far from where Sha’ik was killed, far from the oasis. Fiddler knows our destination. He has divined the knowledge from whatever secrets he holds within him. Indeed, we all suspect, though we speak nothing of it – perhaps Crokus alone remains ignorant, but I may well be underestimating the young man. He’s grown within himself. . . Mappo glanced across to Fiddler. We go to the place you sought all along, soldier.

Dusk closed in on the barren landscape, but enough light remained to reveal a chilling convergence of tracks. Soletaken and D’ivers by the score, the number frightening to contemplate, closing to join the twin footsteps of Apsalar and her father.

Crokus fell back a dozen paces as they walked their horses. Mappo took little note of the detail until, a short while later, he whirled at a shout from the Daru. Crokus was on the ground, grappling with a man in the dusty gloom. Shadows flitted across the cracked clay. The lad managed to pin the man down, gripping his wrists.

‘I knew you were lurking about, you weasel!’ Crokus snarled. ‘For hours and hours, since before the island! All I had to do was wait and now I’ve got you!’

The others backtracked to where Crokus straddled Iskaral Pust. The High Priest had ceased his writhing efforts to escape. ‘Another thousand paces!’ he hissed. ‘And the deceit is complete! Have you seen the signs of my glorious success? Any of you? Are you all dimwits? Oh, so unkind in my nefarious thoughts! But see me respond to their accusations with manly silence, hah!’

‘You might let him up,’ Icarium said to Crokus. ‘He’ll not run now.’

‘Let him up? How about stringing him up?’

‘The next tree we come to, lad,’ Fiddler said, grinning, ‘and that’s a promise.’

The Daru released the High Priest. Iskaral scrambled to his feet, crouching like a rat deciding which way to dart. ‘Deadly proliferation! Do I dare accompany them? Do I risk the glory of witnessing with my own eyes the fullest yield of my brilliant efforts? Well disguised, this uncertainty, they know nothing!’

‘You’re coming with us,’ Crokus growled, hands on the two daggers jutting from his belt. ‘No matter what happens.’