She frowned at him. ‘Something falling from the sky?’

He nodded. ‘Like that, yes.’

‘On the night you were born, something fell from the sky.’

‘No. I fell from the sky.’

‘No you didn’t. You fell out between your mother’s legs.’

‘Yes, that too.’

She pulled her eyes away from his intense, unambiguous gaze, and studied the plain. Silvered by frost and starlight, it stretched away into the southeast for as far as she could see. ‘You shouldn’t follow the Jaghut,’ she said. ‘They’re not gods. They’re not even wise.’

‘We do not worship Hood,’ Ifayle said. ‘But we kneel to his promise.’

‘He can’t fulfil it,’ Korya said harshly. ‘Death is not something you can close hands around. You can’t… strangle it, much as you’d like to. Hood’s promise was… well, it was metaphorical. Not meant to be taken literally. Oh, listen to me, trying to explain poetic nuances to a Dog-Runner. How long were you following me, anyway?’

He smiled. ‘I did not follow you, Korya.’

‘So, you just popped up from the ground?’

‘No, I fell from the sky.’

When she set about, marching back into the abandoned city of Omtose Phellack, Ifayle did not follow her. Not that she wanted him to – although seeing the look on Arathan’s face would have been a delight – but his abandonment seemed sudden, as if she’d done something to make him lose interest in her. The notion irritated her, fouling her mood.

She drew out the acorn and studied it, seeking to sense the power hidden inside. There was nothing. It was, as far as she could tell, just an acorn. Conjured up on a treeless plain. ‘Don’t break it,’ he said.

She drew nearer the Tower of Hate. Arathan would be asleep. Even the thought of that frustrated her. This is still the watch… almost. He should be awake. At the window, looking out on Hood’s sea of burning stars, wondering where I’ve gone to. Whom I might be with.

Rutting some Dog-Runner with snowy eyes and freckles on his arms. If Ifayle really wanted me, as he said, he would’ve followed. Empty chambers abound in this city. He didn’t even smell bad, all things considered.

The invitation was a tease. Lucky I saw through it and made plain my shock. My disgust. That smile was amused, not admiring. That’s why I bridled. And Arathan’s no better. Gift to Gothos, only now he says he’s leaving. Joining Hood, and why? Nothing but sentiment, the rush of the impossible to take hold of every romantic, deluded soul.

Look at them all!

Death will have to chase me down. Hunt me across, I don’t know, centuries. And even then, I vow to leave it… dissatisfied.

You fell from the sky, did you? With flecks of golden sunlight on your arms, I saw. How quaint.

* * *