‘Sir, she comes to you, not as the commander of the Legion, but as a scholar, as one who has delved the histories. She comes begging for your knowledge. What is this that she now holds within herself? Is it a curse as her rivals say, or is it a gift?’

‘Where is the Azathanai now?’

‘Banished by Mother Dark.’

‘Has Draconus returned from the west?’

Serap blinked. ‘No, he has not yet returned, not even to Dracons Hold, where awaits the army he has raised.’

‘Army? Don’t be absurd – the Consort seeks consolidation, lest any highborn take advantage of perceived weakness. He knows how precarious his position is, and how resented he is as well. Do you think I am unable to see through Hunn Raal’s incessant reports? No, Serap, and I sense Hunn Raal’s subtle twisting of all that you tell me here.’

The coldness inside her worsened and she had to struggle not to drop her eyes from his unwavering regard. ‘Sir, there is no twisting to the truth that the Deniers are awakened to their old faith. That the ancient river god has summoned its worshippers, and indeed has made both the Yan and the Yedan kneel to its suzerainty. The cult of Mother Dark is under threat. Kharkanas, upon the banks of Dorssan Ryl, is in danger of inundation. The old temple in the very heart of the Citadel has been usurped. If all this is not alarming enough, sir, we have reports – sketchy ones, to be true – of demons upon the shore of the Sea of Vitr. Captains Sharenas and Kagamandra Tulas are even now returning from the Sea of Vitr, and they ride not for the forts of the Wardens – they ride here, sir, to you.’

Urusander had been standing, his hands upon the back of the chair he had been sitting in earlier, through all that Serap recounted. When she finished she saw the knuckles of his hands bloom white, and then, in a blur, the chair was sent across the small room. It collided with the heavy table and broke apart as if struck by a siege stone. The sound of the impact, the shattering and splintering of wood, hung in the air.

Serap felt driven back into her seat by the ferocity of Urusander’s fury. Struck silent, she made no move, not wanting to draw his attention in any way.

He was staring at the wreckage he had made. Without looking at her, he spoke in a low tone, ‘What else?’