‘There are more of them than you might imagine, Hunn Raal.’

‘All to the better,’ he said.

‘Sheccanto and Skelenal could even make claim to the throne.’

‘I wish they would. That would settle the sides quickly enough.’

She reached out and stroked his cheek, where she had slapped only a short time before. ‘We will plunge Kurald Galain into civil war, Hunn Raal. You and I, and all that we now do.’

But he shook his head. ‘We prevent one, High Priestess. Even better, once we have purged the realm, the end to all conflict is then offered to Mother Dark. By taking the hand of Lord Urusander. She will see that she needs such a man at her side. Strength to answer her weakness, resolve to stand firm against her whims. Light and Dark, in balance.’

‘I want Emral dead.’

‘You cannot have that. She is but your reflection. An imperfect one to be sure, but even then you fare the better between you. No, Syntara, you will be as equals, yet need share nothing but your titles.’

‘Then I shall proclaim Urusander as Father Light,’ said Syntara, her hand still upon his cheek. ‘And the light within me shall be my gift to him.’

‘If you can give it.’

‘I can, Hunn Raal.’

He was still holding the jug. ‘Now then, High Priestess, do we fuck or do we drink?’

‘Which do you prefer?’

A dangerous question that he shrugged off. ‘Either is fine with me.’

To his surprise she stepped away, and her stride was suddenly steady. ‘There is not time for either, Hunn Raal,’ she said, her words sharp. ‘I must gather my followers and we will need an escort from the city. Best we do this without fanfare – I shall cloak myself and remain unseen. My return to Kharkanas shall be in triumph.’

‘Of course,’ he said, setting the jug back down on the table, feeling a fool for having been so easily played. ‘I think I underestimated you, High Priestess.’

‘Many do,’ she replied. ‘And you – you must send word to your people, wherever they happen to be hiding in the countryside.’ Seeing the alarm on his face her smile grew cruel. ‘Yes, I know that you are ready to pounce. But they must wait – your enemy is no longer the highborn. Nor the sons and daughters of Mother Dark. Not even Draconus – not yet, in any case. Why so troubled, captain?’

‘I fear that it may already be too late.’

‘Then sober up, you fool, and make sure that it isn’t!’

* * *

The troop of riders came upon the train, meeting at a sharp bend in the road. There had been little sound to betray them, despite the high cliff walls to either side. Orfantal saw, just past the strangers, the road opening out, sunken flats flanking the raised track: the signs of an old, extinct lake.