‘No. He said it was for the man who was just with him. And he – well, he did call you an irresponsible idiot.’

Artan allowed his lips the slimmest cold upturning that could generously be called a smile. He touched his gloved fingers to his lips. ‘Go on.’

‘He said that, ah, that now he was dead he could see that he’d been right all along.’

’A rather unassailable position,’ Artan observed dryly.

Kiska continued: ‘He said that Kellan—’

Something cracked off her skull from behind.

‘Hattar!’

Kiska blinked tears from her eyes.

‘My apologies,’ Artan said, ‘I should have told you. We do not say that name.’

‘Obviously. Well, what I was trying to tell you was that he – that is, Oleg – said only fools think he is returning for the Imperial throne.’

Artan’s gaze rose past her shoulder to Hattar. ‘Then, pray, what is he returning for?’

‘For a different throne. For the throne of Shadow.’

Artan’s jaws tightened – the masked expressions of a lifetime of guarding one’s thoughts. ‘I’m sorry. But this is nothing I haven’t heard from Oleg before.’ He stood, brushed at his pants.

‘It’s true!’

‘I’m sorry, Kiska. But how do you know?’

‘Because someone else confirmed it.’

Artan paused. His face did not change, but Kiska could tell she had caught his interest. ‘Who confirmed it?’

‘While I was in town I was swept up in something – a Changing – and I was in Shadow. I met someone there. An old creature like a walking corpse, or like an Imass, named Edgewalker. He said many people have tried for the Shadow throne.’ She waited expectantly, but the information seemed to signify nothing to Artan.

‘And did he say . . . the emperor . . . would?’

‘Well, no. He just wasn’t surprised. He—’ Kiska’s shoulder’s slumped. Damn! She had told him!

‘I’m sorry. I need more evidence than this.’

Artan was right, of course. It was all just the babbling of a man who’d admitted hating Kellanved. She was a fool to have believed him.

’We must be going.’

‘Wait! He said that during this conjunction the paths between realms are accessible.’

Artan nodded. ‘Yes. But that was not our dispute. I acknowledge it, in theory.’

‘Ah, yes. Well, Oleg said that during transubstantiation existed the greatest possibility for . . . ah . . . for entombment. That then lay the greatest opportunity to entrap him. That you should act then.’ Kiska frowned. ‘Do you know what that means?’

Artan sighed. ‘It’s all thaumaturgic theory. His own research. I’m not so sure of it myself. Was that all?’

‘No. One other thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, this last bit sounds kind of silly to me.’

‘Just this last part?’

Kiska laughed nervously. ‘Yeah, well. He said don’t be fooled by appearances. That he plans on losing all to gain everything. That defeat would seal his victory.’

Artan rubbed at his sunken eyes with thumb and forefinger. Kiska wondered if the gesture was a habit of which the man was not even aware.