‘Yet another protector,’ Arathan replied, ‘making my presence even more irrelevant.’ He turned from them both. ‘I am going with Hood. Not even Gothos can stop me.’

‘Arathan—’

Waving dismissively behind him, he set out for the camp, the wind slapping at his back, and now he tasted salty rain on its swirling breath. Looking for the moon, he found it gone from the sky, and only a thin swath of stars was visible, above the east horizon, as clouds massed above him.

A miserable dawn was in the offing, though the paling of the east was still a bell or so away.

Emerging from the ragged edge of the abandoned city, he looked out upon the vast camp, its huddled hide tents and makeshift shelters, its scattering of cookfires dying now in the depths of the night. For once, it seemed the turning weather had driven everyone into their hovels, for he saw no one.

He continued on, seeking the singular, isolated pale star that was Hood’s strange fire. There would be Jaghut gathered round that, no matter how foul the weather. And yet, as he drew nearer, he saw no one but a lone standing figure, his back to Arathan.

Hood?

Hearing his approach, the figure turned.

There were streaks upon Gethol’s seamed, hollowed cheeks. Seeing Arathan, he said, ‘They are gone.’

What? ‘No, they can’t be!’

‘You were never meant for this, Arathan. Gothos has relinquished you to my care. I will guard you home,’ he said, and then with a nod behind Arathan, ‘and these two, as well.’

Turning, Arathan saw that Korya and Ifayle had followed. He advanced on her. ‘You knew!’

‘I felt them leave, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Leave? Leave where? They left… everything!’

She shrugged. ‘No point taking it with them, I suppose.’

Now Ifayle was weeping as well, but this did nothing to soften Arathan’s hard anger, his sense of betrayal.

‘They stepped outside time, Arathan,’ said Korya. ‘Omtose Phellack always favoured…’ She paused, searching for the right words.

Clearing his throat, Gethol said, ‘The lure of stasis, Korya Delath. Very perceptive of you. One day, perhaps, you will see what Jaghut can do with ice.’

Helpless, Arathan looked around, and then raised his hands. ‘So that’s it? Abandoned again? What of my own desires? Oh, never mind those, Arathan! Just go where you’re told!’

‘The path you take in Kurald Galain,’ said Gethol, ‘belongs entirely to you. But let me make this plain enough. Gothos is done with you. He returns his gift.’

‘But Father won’t be there, will he?’

‘You wish to find him?’

Arathan hesitated and then scowled. ‘Not particularly.’

‘It is near dawn,’ resumed Gethol. ‘I will gather provisions. It is my thought that we depart this day.’

‘I can’t even say goodbye to him?’ Arathan asked.