Temper attempted to blow on his hands. He risked a glance at Edgewalker. ‘Is that true?’

‘Again, a Jaghut half-truth. It is true I am here to dispute Jhenna’s freedom – to stand in her way as you do. But I would only deny her access to Shadow. All other paths would remain open. Including the way to your world.’

‘Imposture!’ Jhenna cried. ‘Either he stands where you do or he does not! Don’t let him get away with such equivocating.’

Temper hunched his shoulders. ‘It’s not for me to say.’

Jhenna stepped closer and Temper fought an urge to flinch away. He raised his weapons as high as he dared, though the woman had none ready – there were, after all, many kinds of weapons. ‘You poor man. I am doing everything I can to spare your life but you are not cooperating.’ Her eyes shone like golden lanterns and Temper winced. He fixed his gaze dead-centre on the Jaghut’s torso, clenched his teeth and waited.

‘Temper, is it?’ Jhenna asked, then nodded at his flinch of recognition. ‘Why of course! Temper of the Sword!’ She spread her arms out wide. ‘What a fool I’ve been. Who else could possibly stand against a Jaghut? But this is wonderful.’

Temper shivered beneath a sudden gust of cold air. He found he couldn’t open his hands – they were frozen to the grips of his weapons. His feet were numb and his thoughts felt thick and slow. He blinked against the ice gathering over his lashes, managed, ‘What do you mean?’

Jhenna lowered her voice to a whisper: ‘I mean that it is wonderful because I know for a fact that Dassem Ultor yet lives.’

Temper jerked upright. ‘What?’

‘Yes, it is true. He lives. And I can find him! Surely Fate itself conspired to bring the two of us together – you, his last and truest companion, and I, the one who can bring you to him.’

Grimacing against a cold that numbed his lips and made his teeth ache, Temper whispered, ‘You’re lying.’

‘No. On this matter I need not shade the naked facts at all. He still lives.’

The Jaghut’s head now hovered almost within arm’s reach of Temper’s and he felt a dull alarm.

‘Is that not so, Tracer of Edges?’ Jhenna called.

‘I cannot say whether this man lives or not.’

‘Ha! Cannot or will not? Note how spare this one is with his wisdom now, human.’

His thoughts crawled, gelid and viscous as if frozen themselves. Dassem alive? Truly? Why should he throw his life away now?

‘My wisdom I limit to one last comment, mortal,’ Edgewalker urged in its breathless, spare voice.

‘What?’ Temper snarled, annoyed by the thing’s dry-rustling words.

‘’Ware the cold, human. ‘Ware the ice that grips. The frost that silences.’

Temper heard, distantly, a growl from the Jaghut, followed by an explosion as if the barrier was under assault once more. His head was heavy and his chin had sunk to his breastbone. He opened his eyes to see that a sheath of ice now encased his legs up to his knees, and that his feet had disappeared within a block of jet-black ice that seemed to have grown like a crystal from cracks in the very bedrock itself.