He walked back out of the royal apartments, leaving the other dead, servants and Jacks, artistically draped over one another. He collected his three best men, the men who had performed the bloody artistry, and went back to the great hall, where the Earl of Towbray sat on the bloody throne from which he’d just thrown the corpse.

Two of Crowbeard’s men had Tyler.

“You fucking traitor,” Tyler said. “You . . .”

Towbray smiled. “I am a traitor many times over,” he said. “Why on earth would you choose to trust me? But I must say, your people did a fine job. Quite the massacre. You’ve left me very few murders to commit.” He smiled at Crowbeard. “Ah, Kit. I have no further need of Master Tyler.”

Crowbeard walked over. Tyler spat at him, and pulled, very hard, at the men who held him, but they not only had strong hands, they had armour and steel gauntlets.

“Ash will have you all! I will be avenged!” Tyler roared.

Towbray raised both eyebrows, as if appalled at what he heard.

“Ash sends you his regards,” Towbray said. “He’s finished with you now.”

Crowbeard ran the old Jack through, just under the jaw.

“Lay him by Ser Gerald,” Towbray said. “Ser Gerald will have died a hero’s death, attempting to protect the queen. I think he’ll have a statue, don’t you, Kit? Alas, just before we could come and restore order.” Towbray smiled. “And now, I am king.”

“Your Grace, I regret to say that the boy is not here.” Crowbeard was so used to giving his master bad news that he just said it.

Towbray shrugged. “Gone with the army?” he asked. “Inconvenient.”

“Depends who has him,” Crowbeard said. He was looking at the dead woman on the floor, and he didn’t like what he saw.

Lissen Carak

Darkness before dawn.

The time when old men die, and when sentinels fall asleep, and when the world changes while no one is looking. Somewhere, out in the curtain of stars that was the embodiment of the infinite music of all the spheres of creation, a star moved, aligning with another star; the dance continued, the endless motes of life and light floating in the endless darkness.

By whatever mechanism the spheres drove, the gates began to open across the worlds.

Close, in metaphysical terms, to Lissen Carak, the will awoke to the movement of the gates. It had waited with infinite impatience as its billions of constituent beings yearned to be reunited with sisters and brothers and cousins across the million spheres; waited, and then, in a twinkle of a star, they were right there.

The will reached across the gap of stars as the gates aligned, and rattled the gate, but it was locked.

The will had had an aeon to plan its next moves. It attacked the lock.

Miriam awoke to Novice Maria Magdalena shaking her.

“Madam, madam, the gate!” the girl was shrieking.