Only gradually did he begin to distinguish words… and with a shock, realised that he knew those words as if they had been branded upon his heart. He and his brothers had chanted them at dawn and at dusk in the echoing rock-temple in the Enhirran desert. The Vineyard Verses. The verses in which Mhir described the appearance of the angel in the hillside vineyard: the moment of divine revelation.

And now, through Khassian’s music, it was as if he was hearing them for the first time.

Notes swirled like dark smoke, and in the smoky darkness a third voice soared, a column of flame, searing the darkness.

‘Mhir, Mhir, open your eyes, look on me!’

The pulsing of the swirling keyboard figurations became the throb of great wings, fanning a hot, dry wind, a wind of fire that would burn away all disbelief, all sin.

‘Then he put His mouth to my mouth and His tongue was as a scorching flame. The fire of His words flowed into my body. Though I was burned to the core of my soul yet was I made whole again…’

Tears pricked Acir’s eyes; the lighted chamber beyond blurred in the darkness.

Angrily, he pulled the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away the wetness. This was wrong. The composer’s music should merely act as a vessel for the words, it should remain remote, unemotional, allowing the words to speak for themselves. The repetition of the words in free chant was an act of devotion in itself, devoid of anything extraneous to sully their purity. The worshipper should contemplate the meaning of the words – not the beauty or expressive power of the music.

This music was sacrilegious.

And yet its power to move was indisputable.

Was this why Girim wanted Khassian? To use his gifts to glorify the Commanderie’s achievements? Was this what lay behind these long, frustrating weeks in Sulien?

The music suddenly broke off – and the golden vision vanished as swiftly as a pricked bubble. The Diva began a petulant complaint. Acir moved closer until he stood in the chamber doorway, unnoticed.

They had hung lanterns around the walls of the painted chamber, filling it with pools of watery light. One musician sat at a keyboard instrument; Khassian and the Magelonne girl leaned over his shoulders, peering at the music. The Diva paced up and down, remonstrating with them. In another corner, Acir noted that the other singers were observing him and hiding smiles behind their hands.

It was the Magelonne girl who spotted Acir. It was almost as if she sensed he was there for she slowly raised her golden head and stared directly at him. The Diva followed her gaze – and let out a piercing scream that echoed to the roof of the chamber.

‘A ghost! A ghost!‘

Cramoisy sank to the floor in a faint.