A sudden concussion erupted.

Moments later the air was clear – entirely empty, as if the bats had simply vanished.

Shaken, Arathan looked up, and then across to where stood Draconus.

His father had the bearing of a wounded man. His broad shoulders were hunched, his head lowered. For all his girth and height, he suddenly seemed frail. Then Arathan heard Draconus whisper a single word, a name that he had heard before.

‘Karish.’

All at once Arathan remembered the scene between his father and Olar Ethil: the sudden sheathing of verbal knives, the dismissal of threats. ‘An Azathanai has committed murder.’ A woman among the Jaghut. Her name was Karish and Father knew her, enough to be shocked by the news, enough to grieve and seek comfort from his old lover.

‘Your gift to Mother Dark,’ said Arathan, ‘is soaked in blood.’

When his father said nothing to that, he continued, ‘Errastas needed it, he said. To achieve what you wanted. Now he wears his raiment plainly, and in that boldness he reveals his thirst for more … more blood, and the power that comes from it.’

‘She will make this gift pure,’ Draconus said, without turning. ‘When Night unfolds once more, it will scour clean the binding – it will purge this poison.’

‘And so hide the crime from her eyes. You will not tell her, will you, Father?’

‘Nothing stays broken for ever.’ These whispered words were like a promise. He turned to face Arathan. ‘You think to hold this secret over me?’

Arathan shook his head. He felt suddenly exhausted and wanted only to turn away from all this. ‘Kurald Galain,’ he said, ‘is not for me. Neither is Mother Dark, nor you, Father. None of it is for me. Offer her your flawed gift if you must. I care not. I wish I could spit out this secret we now share, and if Errastas were here to read my thoughts at this moment, he might have cause to fear.’

Draconus snorted. ‘Most creatures of this world understand that fear can be a virtue. Errastas does not. If you seek him, he will wait for you and know your every thought. It is not a worthy path, Arathan. You are not ready to challenge Errastas.’

‘Who hunts him, Father?’

‘I don’t know.’

Distrusting that reply, Arathan shifted his attention back to the ruined house, where the dust was slow to settle. ‘Who once lived there?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Errastas used it. I would know the workings of his mind.’

Draconus strode back to Calaras. ‘Leave it, Arathan.’

‘You told Olar Ethil that you would seek the Lord of Hate. Will you still do so, Father?’

‘Yes.’ Draconus pulled himself into the saddle.

‘Will you lie to him as well?’

To that Draconus said nothing. Instead, he kicked his warhorse into motion.

Arathan chose Hellar instead of Besra and mounted up, and then set off after his father.