Cadig Aval said, ‘Sadly, the truth of your words, Tiste maiden, is like a knife-thrust into my soul. Then again, I already weary of discourse, and long for the interminable silence of my unending solitude. Thus, the secret. Ifayle, at the core of a dream there is something that cannot be broken. Indeed, it is deathless. Reach into this core, Dog-Runner, to seek the makings of a ritual. Call as well upon Olar Ethil, seeking the spark of Telas – the Eternal Flame – to enliven what remains of you.’ This time, the ghost’s pause was much briefer. ‘But be warned. The deathless gift of the Sleeping Goddess’s dream will end your own dreams. The future loses all relevance and so is made powerless. In escaping death, you must all die, sustained by naught but the spark of Telas.’

Something trembled through Korya and she shivered. ‘Ifayle,’ she said in a low whisper, ‘none of that sounds good.’

‘No,’ Cadig Aval said to her, ‘you are correct, Tiste. A terrible fate awaits Ifayle and his people.’

‘Besides,’ she said, ‘I don’t believe in prophecy.’

‘You are wise,’ the guardian replied. ‘Blame Hood. Time has ceased. Past, present and future are, here and in this frozen instant, all one. Those of us of sufficient power can make use of this, reaching far with our vision. Oh, and it helps being dead, too.’

Ifayle bowed before the guardian. ‘I will remember your words, ancient one.’

‘Stop that. I’m not that ancient, you know. Not really. Not in the vast scheme of things. As old as a world? The lifeline of a star? Understand: we exist for the sole purpose of being witness to existence. This and this alone is our collective contribution to all that has been created. We serve to bring existence into being. Without eyes to see, nothing exists.’

‘Then indeed we have purpose,’ said Ifayle.

Cadig Aval shrugged. ‘Assuming all that exists has purpose, an assumption of which I remain unconvinced.’

‘What do you need to be convinced?’ Korya demanded.

‘Persuasion.’

‘From whom?’

‘Yes, that is the frustrating part, isn’t it?’

With a faint snarl, Korya took Ifayle by the hand, pulling him back towards the door. ‘We’re leaving now.’

‘Well,’ said Cadig Aval behind them, ‘it was fun while it lasted. Perhaps,’ the ghost added, ‘that is all the purpose required.’

Outside, on the pathway once more, Ifayle asked, ‘Where are we going now?’

‘To collect Arathan, of course,’ she answered, pulling him along. ‘We need to get away from here – away from this gate of death. Can’t you feel this stopping of time reaching for us? It crawls under my skin, trying to burrow deeper. We stay too long, Ifayle, it will indeed kill us.’

‘And where shall we find Arathan?’

‘With Gothos, I expect.’

‘I think,’ Ifayle said after a time, ‘we need a better reason to exist.’