‘The child has Tattersail within her, a woman who knew you well. Though I never met the sorceress, I find that the woman she was – emerging further with each day in Silverfox – possessed admirable qualities.’

Whiskeyjack slowly nodded. ‘She was ... a friend.’

‘How much do you know of the events leading to this ... rebirth?’

‘Not enough, I am afraid,’ he replied. ‘We learned of Tattersail’s death from Paran, who came upon her ... remains. She died in the embrace of a Thelomen High Mage, Bellurdan, who had travelled out onto the plain with the corpse of his mate, Nightchill, presumably intending to bury the woman. Tattersail was already a fugitive, and it’s likely Bellurdan was instructed to retrieve her. It is as Silverfox says, as far as I can tell.’

Korlat looked away and said nothing for a long time. When she finally did, her question, so simple and logical, left Whiskeyjack with a pounding heart: ‘Commander, we sense Tattersail and Nightchill within the child – and she herself admits to these two – but now I wonder, where then is this Thelomen, Bellurdan?’

He could only draw a deep breath and shake his head. Gods, I don’t know ...

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

Mark these three, they are all that give shape, all that lie beneath the surface of the world, these three, they are the bones of history. Sister of Cold Nights! Betrayal greets your dawn! You chose to trust the knife, even as it found your heart. Draconus, Blood of Tiam! Darkness was made to embrace your soul, and these chains that now hold you, they are of your own fashioning. K’rul, yours was the path the Sleeping Goddess chose, a thousand and more years ago, and she sleeps still, even as you awaken – the time has come, Ancient One, to once more walk among the mortals, and make of your grief, the sweetest gift.

Anomandaris

Fisher Kel Tath

Covered from head to toe in mud, Harllo and Stonny Menackis emerged from behind the carriage as it rocked its way up the slope. Grinning at the sight, Gruntle leaned against the buckboard.

‘Serves us right to lay wagers with you,’ Harllo muttered. ‘You always win, you bastard.’

Stonny was looking down at her smeared clothing with dismay. ‘Callows leathers. They’ll never recover.’ She fixed hard blue eyes on Gruntle. ‘Damn you – you’re the biggest of us all. Should have been you pushing, not sitting up there, and never mind winning any bet.’

‘Hard lessons, that’s me,’ the man said, his grin broadening. Stonny’s fine green and black attire was covered in brown slime. Her thick black hair hung down over her face, dripping milky water. ‘Anyway, we’re done for the day, so let’s pull this thing off to the side – looks like you two could do with a swim.’

‘Hood take you,’ Harllo snapped, ‘what do you think we was doing?’