‘Cut out his tongue,’ the Toblakai growled. ‘Then we need not worry.’

‘No?’ Heboric laughed. ‘You underestimate me still, oaf. I am blind, yet I see. Cut out my tongue and oh, how I shall speak! Relax, Felisin, I’m no fool.’

‘You are if you continue using her old name,’ Leoman warned.

Felisin left them to bicker, sensing that, at last, despite the sharp edges to the words they threw at one another, a bond was developing between the three men. Not something as simple as friendship – the Toblakai and Heboric had chains of hatred linking them, after all – but one of experiences shared. My rebirth is what they share, even as they stand as points of a triangle, with Leoman the apex. Leoman, the man with no beliefs. They were nearing the settlement’s centre. She saw a platform to one side, a disc-shaped dais surrounding a fountain. ‘There, to start.’

Leoman turned in surprise. ‘What?’

‘I would speak to these followers.’

‘Now? Before we meet with the High Mages?’

‘Yes.’

‘You would make the three most powerful men in this camp wait?’

‘Would that concern Sha’ik, Leoman? Does my rebirth require their blessing? Unfortunately they weren’t there, were they?’

‘But—’

‘Time for you to shut your mouth, Leoman,’ Heboric said, not unkindly.

‘Clear a path for me, Toblakai,’ Felisin said.

The giant swung abruptly, cutting directly for the platform. He said nothing, for nothing was needed. His presence alone split the mob, peeled it back on both sides in hushed silence.

They reached the dais. ‘I shall need your lungs to start, Toblakai. Name me once I’ve ascended.’

‘I shall, Chosen One.’

Heboric snorted softly. ‘Now that’s an apt title.’

A cascade of thoughts swept through Felisin as she climbed onto the stone platform. Sha’ik Reborn, that dark cloak of Dryjhna descending. Felisin, noble-born brat of Unta, whore of the mining pit. Open the Holy Book and thus complete the rite. That young woman has seen the face of the Abyss – that terrible journey behind her – and now comes the demand that she face the one before her. The young woman must relinquish her life. Opening the Holy Book – yet who would have thought the goddess so amenable to a deal? She knows my heart, and that grants her the confidence, it seems, of deferring her claim on it. The deal has been struck. Power granted – so many visions – yet Felisin remains, her rock-hard, scarred soul floats free in the vast Abyss.

And Leoman knows . . .

‘Kneel before Sha’ik Reborn!’ The Toblakai’s bellow was like thunder in the hot, motionless air. As one, thousands dropped down, heads bowed.

Felisin stepped past the giant. Dryjhna’s power trickled into her – ah, dear goddess, precious patroness, do you now hesitate in your gifts? Like this crowd, like Leoman, do you await the proof of my words? My intent?