His Knights were marching from the barracks, hundreds of them. He watched with pleasure as they moved out into the city, column after column, the officers carrying lists naming traitors. They would be hauled from their beds and dragged back to the Temple. There would be too many for the dungeons, so they would be herded into the Barracks Square, before being transported to the various circus arenas for execution. More and more of his Knights filed out of the barracks. Nalademus watched them with pride. From tomorrow the people of Stone would march towards destiny.

But where was Voltan?

Nalademus stared out along the deserted avenue, hoping to see the Lord of the Stone Knights riding towards the Temple. He swore loudly, and moved back inside the apartment. One of the lanterns began to gutter, and oily black smoke sputtered from the wick. Nalademus blew it out. On the table were the remains of last night's meal, and an empty jug of wine. He picked up a piece of bread. It was stale now and he hurled it to the floor. His huge stomach rumbled. Calling one of the guards he sent the man to fetch him some food, then slumped down in a wide leather chair, his anger growing. Voltan had been growing increasingly arrogant of late. Soon it would be time to dispense with his services. Not yet, though. With Jasaray's death there was still the risk of civil war.

The guard returned with a plate of cold meats and a fresh jug of wine. 'Send Banouin to me,' said Nalademus, taking the plate, and stuffing a handful of ham into his mouth. Moments later there was a rap at the door, and the slim, dark-haired Rigante entered.

'My heart is pounding,' said Nalademus. 'Prepare me a tisane.'

'The emperor is alive,' said Banouin, his voice soft, almost sorrowful. Nalademus jerked, his great head coming up, his eyes peering at the younger man.

'What do you know of this?'

'Everything, lord. I am a seer. Among my people I would have become a druid. Last night I had a vision. It was one I first had several years ago. My friend Bane was moving through strange corridors, the walls alive and rustling. A beast was stalking him. There was an older man with him – a man I did not know. Now I do. His name is Rage. Last night a group of killers tried to murder the emperor by releasing a wild beast into the maze in his garden. A huge creature – a striped lion. It had been starved for some time. One of the assassins felled the emperor with a blow to the head, then smeared him with blood, and left him for the lion. Fortunately for Jasaray my friend Bane, and his comrade, Rage, entered the maze and killed the beast. Then Jasaray summoned his loyal guards and Voltan was arrested.'