Bedecked in his heavy armour, Kellaras stood hesitating in the corridor when Silchas Ruin appeared. The commander stepped to one side to let the lord past. Instead, Silchas halted.

‘Kellaras, have you sought entry into the Chamber of Night?’

‘No, milord. My courage fails me.’

‘What news do you bring that so unmans you?’

‘None but truths I regret knowing, milord. I have word from Captain Galar Baras. He has done as you commanded, but in the observation of his new recruits, he reiterates his doubt.’

Silchas turned to study the blackwood door at the corridor’s end. ‘No counsel will be found there, commander.’

I fear you are right. Kellaras shrugged. ‘My apologies, milord. I sought but could not find you.’

‘Yet you stepped aside and voiced no greeting.’

‘Forgive me, milord. All courage fails me. I believe what I sought in the Chamber of Night was a gift of faith from my goddess.’

‘Alas,’ said Silchas Ruin in a growl, ‘she makes faith into water, and pleasures in its feel as it drains from the hand. Even our thirst is denied us. Very well, Kellaras, I have your news, but it changes nothing. The Hust armour must be worn, the swords held in living hands. Perhaps this will be enough to give Urusander pause.’

‘He will know the measure of those in that armour, milord, and the fragility of the grasp upon those swords.’

‘You would spread the sand beneath your feet out and under my own, Kellaras, but I need to remain sure of each stride I take.’

‘Milord, any word of your brothers?’

Silchas frowned. ‘You think us eager to share such privacies, commander? Your lord will find you in good time, and yield no sympathy should your courage fail in his eyes. Now, divest yourself of that armour – its display whispers of panic.’

Bowing, Kellaras backed away.

Facing the Chamber of Night, Silchas Ruin seemed to hesitate, as if about to march towards it, and then he wheeled round. ‘A moment, commander. Send Dathenar and Prazek to the Hust, and charge them take command of the new cohorts, and so give answer to Galar Baras’s needs, as best we can.’

Startled, Kellaras asked, ‘Milord, are they to don Hust armour? Take up a Hust sword?’

Silchas Ruin’s face hardened. ‘Has courage failed everyone in our House? Leave my sight, commander!’

‘Milord.’ Kellaras quickly set off. As he marched up the corridor, he could feel Ruin’s baleful glare upon his back. Panic’s bite is indeed a fever. And here I am, the flea upon a thousand hides. He would return to his chamber and remove his armour, setting aside the girdle of war, but retain his sword as befitted his rank. Silchas was right. A soldier makes of his garb a statement, and an invitation. It was the swagger of violence, but inside that armour there could be diffidence and, indeed, great fear.