Banouin backed away towards the door. 'You are just like all the rest,' he said, tears in his eyes. 'You value the killers like Bane, the bringers of death. You cannot tolerate those who find violence appalling and seek a better way.'

The Morrigu turned towards him. Banouin tried to run, but found himself frozen in place. 'It is the nature of weak men', she said softly, 'to see their weaknesses as strengths, and other men's strengths as weaknesses or stupidities. Bane risked his life a few days ago to save a horse trapped in a swollen river. A horse, Banouin! And why? Because he has a heart. He has feelings for others. He does not live his life whining about unfairness. He lives his life. On your travels you envied his popularity, the way men and women warmed to him in a way they could never warm to you. You felt they were somehow foolish and were taken in by his easy smile. Not so. They sensed that Bane was a man who cared, a man to be relied on. You, they knew, cared only for yourself, and could not be relied upon.

'I am a spirit, born of spirit and fed by spirit. This land is also fed by spirit. No tree can grow, no flower bloom without it. And where does it come from, this life-giving energy? It comes from men like Connavar and Ruathain, from women like Vorna and Eriatha and Meria. People who know love and warmth, people who will risk their lives for all they believe in.' The Morrigu stepped in close to the terrified Banouin and lifted her dark veil. Her face was dead, the skin grey and peeling back from white bone. 'Look upon the Morrigu, child. Gaze upon her beauty. You feel sick, do you not? Can you smell the corruption? Aye, I guess that you can.

'Once, a long time ago, man understood the nature of spirit. His deeds caused it to flower, and he lived in harmony with the creatures of earth and spirit. Then came more and more men like the Cold Killer and his masters, Banouin. Selfish, greedy, small men who drank of the spirit but did not replenish it. And the creatures of spirit began to pass away, drifting across the multitudes of universes in search of more pleasant habitations. With immeasurable lack of speed this earth began to die. Oh, it will take many thousands of years, but it will die when the last whisper of spirit passes.