‘Fraught questions,’ came a voice from one side, and a moment later Grizzin Farl appeared. ‘Draconus, old friend, must you make a map of mystery? By what you have scribed, powers will root to the place of their containment. These gates. You invite vulnerability. Chaos wanders in its hunt. Name me the gate able to flee?’

Seeming to ignore the Protector’s questions, the Consort said, ‘Mother Dark discovers the breadth of her realm—’

To which the Azathanai cut in sharply, ‘You give her this, and expect her to be unchallenged?’

‘Her challengers are no more,’ Draconus replied, finally facing the Azathanai. ‘Do you think I would be so careless in my preparations?’

Something in the Consort’s words clearly appalled Grizzin Farl, but he said nothing.

Draconus turned back to Emral Lanear. ‘She attends her places of faith, High Priestess. But in substance, she is stretched… thin. Thin as, you might say, Night’s own blanket.’

‘Can she be summoned?’ Emral asked. Or are we forsaken?

Draconus hesitated, and then said, ‘Perhaps.’

Rise Herat seemed to choke, and then said, ‘Perhaps? Milord! Her High Priestess asks – no, prays – for the presence of her goddess! Is Mother Dark now indifferent to her chosen children?’

‘I would think not,’ Draconus snapped.

‘Kurald Galain descends into bloody civil war,’ the historian retorted in a half-snarl. ‘Lord Draconus, your very station finds you upon a crumbling pedestal. Urusander means to make himself her husband, and has taken the title of Father Light. And where is Lord Anomander, her First Son? Why, off in the wilderness, tracking a brother who would not be found!’ Rise then whirled to face Grizzin Farl. ‘And you Azathanai! Now in our midst! A deceiver to guide us into this realm, and what of the one accompanying Lord Anomander? T’riss was but the beginning, but now your kind creep into our business. State it plain, Grizzin Farl, what do you here?’

The Protector was slow in responding. Watching the Azathanai, Emral waited to see where his eyes might take his gaze, and a part of her anticipated – with peculiar certainty – that he would find Lord Draconus before answering the historian. But he did not. Instead, Grizzin Farl lowered his head, choosing to study the ground. ‘It is my task, historian, to attend.’

‘Attend? Attend what?’

‘Why,’ the Azathanai looked up, ‘the end of things.’

In the silence that followed, it fell to Lord Draconus to finally speak. ‘High Priestess, historian, I will guide you now to the portal that leads back to the Citadel.’ He then faced Grizzin Farl. ‘You, however, will remain. We will have words.’

‘Of course, old friend.’

‘And I would know of this other Azathanai, who accompanies Lord Anomander.’

The answer to that would be easy enough, but neither Emral nor Rise Herat spoke, and after a moment it was clear that Grizzin Farl had said all he intended to say, at least in their presence.