‘And won the last word each and every time, yes. But what has that availed me? More years heaped upon my back, more days beneath the senseless sun and the empty wind in my face. More nights under indifferent stars. More graves to visit, more memories to haunt me. In my dreams, Korya, I have lost the gift of colour. For so long now, in passing through my eyes the world is bleached of all life, and strikes upon my soul in dull shades of grey.’

‘I must tire you, then, master.’

He grunted. ‘Foolish child. You are my lone blaze. Now, heed me well, for I shall not repeat myself. We must quit this place.’

‘Do you fear the return of the Jheleck?’

‘Cease interrupting me. I have spoken now of the education awaiting you, but all that I have done has been in preparation. There are things you must now learn that are beyond my expertise. We journey south, to where powers are awakening.’

‘I do not understand, master. What powers? Have not the Jaghut surrendered all claims upon such things?’

Haut took up a weighty belt bearing a sword in a heavy leather scabbard. He strapped it on, adjusted it briefly, and then removed it with a scowl. The weapon thumped heavily back on to the tabletop. ‘Azathanai,’ he said. ‘Someone has been precipitous. But I must speak with my kin. Those who have remained, that is. The rest can go rot.’

‘Why am I so important, master?’

‘Who said you were?’

‘Why then have you spent years preparing me, if I am to have little or no value?’

‘Impertinence serves you well, Korya, but you ever risk the back of someone’s hand across the face.’

‘You have never struck me.’

‘So, like some Jheleck mongrel, you play the odds, do you?’ He lifted free a heavy halberd, stepped back and waved it about, until the blade bit into a wall, sending stone chips flying. He dropped the weapon with a clang, rubbed at his wrists.

‘What will you discuss with your kin?’

‘Discuss? We never discuss. We argue.’

‘With iron?’

A quick, savage smile lit his features, only to vanish again a moment later. ‘Delightful as the notion is, no.’

‘Then why are you girded for war?’

‘I fear too light a step,’ he replied.

Korya fought the urge to leave the chamber, to head back up the tower. To stand beneath the morning stars and watch the sun slay them all. Haut had forbidden her any possessions beyond a change of clothes for this journey. Even so, she believed they would never return here.

Haut collected a double-bladed axe with an antler shaft and hefted it. ‘Thel Akai. Where did I come by this? Handsome weapon … trophy or gift? My conscience makes no stir, so … not booty. How often, I wonder, must triumph drip blood? And is it by this that we find its taste so sweet?’