‘You… devious… bastard. Anything else you would ask of me?’

‘Yes. You need to sew up the carcass of a dragon upon the south shore of the Vitr Sea.’

‘Why?’

‘I need it.’

‘Why?’

‘It once belonged to Korabas, forever shunned by her kin, because she is—’

‘The Devourer of Magic. Abyss below, K’rul! But… a carcass?’

He rubbed at his face. ‘Yes, well. It’s complicated, but someone is at this very moment about to complete a ritual, opening a gate into the Warren of Death.’

‘Take note, K’rul, of my extraordinary self-control in that I am not at this moment strangling you.’

‘My faith in you is, as ever, well founded.’

‘And in return for all this?’

‘Your lover escaped the Vitr in the belly of Korabas, Ardata. She walked into the halls of Kharkanas, and took upon herself the Tiste name T’riss. Ardata, my power manifests across this entire realm. She may well seek to hide herself from other Azathanai, but from me that is not possible. Accordingly, when we are done, I will take you to her.’

‘A Warren of Death? You are truly mad, K’rul. Who rules it?’

He smiled. ‘As of yet, no one. Do we have a deal?’

‘Yes, although I am sure I will come to regret it. Every gate a snare, then? I admit, that part pleases me.’

‘I thought it might.’

They walked into the temple.

Scabandari returned now to Osserc, who had regained something of himself and now stood near the dying embers of the bonfire. ‘Milord, we have a fraught journey ahead of us.’

‘We’ll not survive it. Not without horses.’

‘I will make a request of K’rul, then.’

Osserc spat into the embers. ‘Bargain with the Azathanai and they will own your life, Scara. No, we will find another way, and if we die upon the trail, so be it. I have this night won nothing but the truth of my own pathetic soul. My friend, I stand here, shamed before you.’

Glancing away, Scabandari found himself studying the pallid gleam of the distant Vitr Sea. ‘We have the trail ahead, then, to forge in you a new soul.’

Osserc’s abrupt laugh was harsh, filled with self-contempt. ‘You have little to work with, I’m afraid.’

‘Regret is a worthy temper,’ Scabandari said. ‘It shall be where we begin.’

‘Your faith may prove misplaced, Scara.’

He smiled. ‘I am hardly immune to lessons still to learn, Osserc. Very well then, let us test the measure of each other, and the day we stand before the Wise City, open ourselves one more time to the other, and see all there is to be seen.’

After a long moment, Osserc nodded. ‘In a back chamber of the temple there are supplies. Water and food. I’ve not seen the Azathanai eat, or drink for other than simple pleasure.’

‘Then we’ll take what we can carry, and be on our way.’