‘I’m obliged, Sephrenia. It’s part of the oath. It has been for five centuries.’

‘Bother the oath,’ she snapped. ‘This is more important.’

He sank back into his chair, troubled and uncertain. ‘What are they doing?’ he asked.

‘I told you. They’re raising the spirit of Azash. That can only mean that they’re Zemochs.’

‘What are the Elenes doing in there, then? The Cammorian, the Lamork, and that Pelosian woman?’

‘Receiving instruction, I think. The Zemochs didn’t come here to learn, but to teach. This is serious, Sparhawk – more deadly serious than you could ever imagine.’

‘What do we do?’

‘For the moment, nothing. We sit here and watch.’

Again Sparhawk felt that oppressive weight at the base of his skull, and then a fiery tingling that seemed to run through all his veins.

‘Azash has answered the summons,’ Sephrenia said quietly ‘It’s very important to sit quietly now and for both of us to keep our thoughts neutral. Azash can sense hostility directed at him.’

‘Why would Elenes participate in the rites of Azash?’

‘Probably for the rewards he will give them for worshipping him. The Elder Gods have always been most lavish with their rewards when it suits them to be.’

‘What kind of reward could possibly pay for the loss of one’s soul?’

She shrugged, a barely perceptible motion in the growing darkness. ‘Longevity, perhaps. Wealth, power and in the case of the woman beauty. It could even be other things – things I don’t care to think about. Azash is twisted, and he soon twists those who worship him.’

In the street below, a workman with a handcart and a torch clattered along over the cobblestones. He took an unlighted torch from the cart, set it in an iron ring protruding from the shop-front below, and ignited it. Then he rattled on.

‘Good,’ Sephrenia murmured. ‘Now we’ll be able to see them when they come out.’

‘We’ve already seen them.’

‘They’ll be different, I’m afraid.’

The door to the Styric house opened, and the silkrobed Cammorian emerged. As he passed through the circle of torchlight below, Sparhawk saw that his face was very pale, and his eyes were wide with horror.

‘That one will not return,’ Sephrenia said quietly. ‘Most likely he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to atone for his venture into the darkness.’

A few minutes later, the booted Lamork came out into the street. His eyes burned, and his face was twisted into an expression of savage cruelty. His impassive crossbowmen marched along behind him.

‘Lost,’ Sephrenia sighed.

‘What?’

‘The Lamork is lost. Azash has him.’