The Bonecaster cocked his head, his long, pale hair dangling loose from beneath the wolf-skull helmet. ‘Such a battle is not our primary task. We have come to this land in answer to a summons. The presence of K’Chain Che’Malle was unexpected – and unacceptable. Further, we are curious as to the identity of the one named Pannion – we suspect he is not the mortal human you believe him to be. Kron has judged that our involvement in your conflict is required for the present. There is a caveat, however. The one who has summoned us approaches. With her arrival, the Second Gathering of the T’lan Imass will commence. At this time, our disposition will be for her to decide. Furthermore, it may well be that we become ... of less value to you ... upon completion of the Gathering.’

Brukhalian slowly turned to Karnadas. ‘Sir? You have questions for the one named Bendal Home?’

‘So many that I do not know where to begin, Mortal Sword. Bonecaster, what is this “Gathering” that you speak of?’

‘That is a matter for the T’lan Imass, mortal.’

‘I see. Well, that shuts the door on one line of inquiry, and its attendant multitude of questions. Regards the Pannion Seer – he is indeed a mortal human. I have seen him myself, and there is no scent of illusion to his flesh and bone. He is an old man, and nothing more.’

‘And who stands in his shadow?’ the Bonecaster named Bek Okhan rasped.

The Destriant blinked. ‘No-one, as far as I can tell.’

The three T’lan Imass said nothing, yet Karnadas suspected a silent exchange among them, and perhaps with their distant kin as well.

‘Mortal Sword,’ the priest said in a low voice, ‘do we inform the prince of this? What of the Mask Council?’

‘Further counsel is indeed required before that decision can be made, sir,’ Brukhalian replied. ‘At the very least, we shall await the return of the Shield Anvil. Furthermore, there is the issue of additional communications this night, is there not?’

Fener’s blessing, I’d forgotten. ‘Indeed there is.’ Quick Ben . . . by the cloven hoof, we have allies stepping out of every closet . . .

Bendal Home spoke. ‘Mortal Sword Brukhalian, your soldier Itkovian has decided that their public arrival into the city – with the company of the caravan’s wounded – will include six of the T’lan Ay that now accompany our kin.’

‘T’lan Ay?’ Karnadas asked. ‘Not a name I’ve heard before.’

‘Wolves from the times of ice, long ago. Like us, undead.’

Brukhalian smiled.

A moment later, Karnadas also smiled. ‘The prince asked for ... leverage, did he not, Mortal Sword?’

‘He shall have it, sir.’

‘So he shall.’

‘If you have further need of us this evening,’ Bendal Home said to Brukhalian, ‘simply call upon us.’

‘Thank you, sirs.’

The three T’lan Imass fell into clouds of dust.

‘I take it,’ the Destriant murmured, ‘we need not offer our guests accommodation.’