Gabriel winced. “I also agree with you that we have increased in power. I assume that distributed intelligence is the Necromancer. He couldn’t get through my shields.”

Mortirmir nodded. “I can find the Patriarch,” he said. “Any idea what the Patriarch actually is?”

“We need to finish the Necromancer,” Gabriel said. “And we have some evidence that the Patriarch isn’t the tool of the Necromancer, but serves another will. Or is a new player.”

“I want to find the Patriarch,” Mortirmir said. He glanced at Gabriel. “Ahh. Yes. A third player. Master Smythe never even hinted at such a thing. Kronmir did.”

Gabriel took a deep breath. “I know. Necromancer first.” He looked at Mortirmir. “Kronmir was afraid we’re being played.”

Mortirmir shrugged. “Very well. When?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Gabriel said. “Then we’ll find the Patriarch.”

Mortirmir nodded. “Shorn of his army, I suppose he’s nobody.”

Gabriel smiled. “And if Giselle finds him first, he’ll be very thoroughly nobody,” he said. “But I worry that we have a third player and we know so little.”

Mortirmir pulled at his mustache. “We could have ten more players,” he said. “If they are dragons, they can take men’s shapes. If they are Odine, they can control men. How would we know?” He looked at Gabriel and frowned. “We could even have players who are men. And women. Anything we have learned may be known by others. Dame Julia’s prognostications are not exactly a secret.”

“Christ,” Gabriel muttered.

Mortirmir waved a hand in adolescent dismissiveness. “Never mind. Let’s just kill the ones we can find. Life is complicated enough already.” He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, I’ve unpacked most of Magister Rashidi’s workings.”

“And?” Gabriel knew that he had not unpacked his set of tiles. And he needed to.

“I know how to make a Fell Sword.” Morgon smiled.

“Harmodius . . .”

“He knows how and chooses not to share.” Mortirmir shrugged.

Gabriel was staring east.

“Gabriel,” Mortirmir said with a familiarity no one else used anymore except Sauce and Bad Tom. “You don’t think it’s all about Ash? It won’t end. That was Master Smythe’s great point, and he made it well. Even if we win here, there will be another and another and another. To the last syllable of recorded time.”

“Thanks for that cheerful thought. You are right. Let’s just squash the ones we can see.” Gabriel sighed. “Jehan once asked me if I could fight all the time, every day. And today I find the answer to be: no. I’m tired.”

Morgon looked raised an eyebrow. “My point about the Fell Swords . . .” he said.

“Yes?” Gabriel asked, mystified. Perhaps even annoyed, because Mortirmir, once launched on a topic, was as tough as one of his own shields to dislodge.

“I could make them.” Mortirmir smiled.

“Really?” Gabriel asked.