Silchas scowled, and Herat wondered if he’d pushed too far, or indeed, if he had erred in his judgement of the man’s vanity. ‘In this,’ Silchas then said in a growl, ‘I am but the messenger of his conscience. When the echoes of my horse’s hoofs have passed, little else will linger.’ He faced the historian with a stern visage. ‘I trust that is understood.’

Rise Herat nodded.

All three turned then at the sound of approaching horses. A pair of riders, coming up from the track that led back to Kharkanas. Cedorpul and Endest Silann.

Lanear spoke. ‘Best ride on, milord. These priests of mine are my business, not yours.’

‘Cedorpul promises sorcery,’ Silchas said.

‘At a battle we may well avoid, milord.’

Silchas Ruin swung his mount around. He would pass the two priests on the narrow track, but Herat was certain that few, if any, words would be exchanged. ‘I ride to the Chamber of Night,’ the commander announced. ‘But that business, as you say, High Priestess, is not theirs to debate. Blunt them. Confound them if you must, but ensure my path remains clear.’

‘I shall do as you say, milord,’ said Lanear.

Silchas Ruin set off, gathering his horse into a quick canter.

Rise Herat glanced back at the valley. ‘We have done with it, then,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Dispense with that tone,’ Lanear snapped. ‘Condemnation avails us nothing. We cannot predict what words may pass between him and Draconus. What comes is now out of our hands, historian.’

But he shook his head. ‘And does that smoke suffice, High Priestess, to fill your body and blind you to guilt? If so, I’m of a mind to join you next time you imbibe. We can wallow in opaque insensibility, and deem all that races past us scant distraction. Let the clouds find our veins, swell the chambers of our hearts, and whisper sweet promises of oblivion.’

If she intended a retort, she bit back on the words with the arrival of Cedorpul and Endest Silann.

‘High Priestess!’ cried Cedorpul as he reined in. ‘I was dismissed with but a single word! Have we not a battle to discuss? To where does he ride?’

‘Take no offence,’ Lanear replied. ‘There is time still. Our commander attends to many things. Tell me, have you brought word of the Hust Legion?’

Cedorpul frowned, and then shook his head. ‘Nothing from the south, and it is indeed worrisome. We cannot hope to defeat the Liosan with only the Houseblades defending us.’

‘Then what manner of plans did you think to discuss?’ Rise Herat asked him.

‘My sorcery, of course! It finds shape.’

‘Shape?’

‘I have mastered malice, historian. I will be ready to face Hunn Raal.’