‘And that,’ said Arathan as he fell in beside a swiftly striding Korya, ‘is what never makes sense.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘This dead civilization. This Omtose Phellack, the abandoned city. Look at that Jaghut woman now with your Haut. Sharing that jug. Wine? Where from? Who made it? Have you seen any vineyards?’

‘Sanad,’ said Korya after glancing back over a shoulder. Her scowl deepened. ‘An old lover of his, I think. They’re getting drunk together. Again. I don’t like Jaghut women.’

‘Why?’

‘They know too much and say too little.’

‘Well, I can see how that might irritate you.’

‘Careful, Arathan, I’m not in the mood. Besides, you have no idea what awaits me. You see before you a young woman, a hostage now orphaned, but I am so much more than that.’

‘So you keep telling me.’

‘You’ll see soon enough.’

‘I don’t see how, but never mind. I don’t want that argument again, Korya. There are people I want to find, and they’re probably dead. I have things that I need to say to them. Not only that, but I expect there will be many, many warriors beyond the Veil. I want to ask them: was it worth it?’

‘Was what worth it?’

‘The fighting. The killing.’

‘I doubt they’d tell you. But even more, I doubt they’d have anything worth saying. Being dead, they failed, right? You’re headed for miserable company, Arathan. Not that they’d welcome you, and not that you’ll ever get close anyway. It seems that you are to be my keeper.’

‘What?’

‘Haut needs to hand me over to someone else. You’re of House Dracons, right? Well, you have to deliver me to your father, but in the meantime, I’m now your hostage.’

‘You can’t be. I won’t accept you.’

‘Are you not your father’s son?’

‘Bastard son.’

‘But he acknowledged you. You are now of House Dracons. You have responsibilities. You can’t be a child any longer, Arathan.’

‘So that’s how you all worked it out, is it? I sense Gothos behind this.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m your hostage. You have to return me to Kurald Galain, to your father’s estate.’

‘He doesn’t want to see me. He brought me here to keep me away.’

‘So take me back and then leave again. What you do after you’ve discharged your responsibility is up to you.’

‘This is… underhanded.’

‘And don’t think we’ll be lingering, either. I want to leave. Soon.’

‘If you’re now my hostage, we’ll leave when I decide it, not you.’ He thought for a moment, and then frowned. ‘I’ve not done the translating yet—’

‘You idiot. You’ll never be done with that, because Gothos won’t ever stop. I would have thought you’d worked that out by now.’

‘But I was just getting to the interesting stuff.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s more or less an autobiography, but his story begins now – or, that is, he began it the day he killed civilization and became the Lord of Hate, and from there it goes back in time, day by day, year by year, decade by decade, century by—’