Drusher spread the sketchbook open. It was a fine graphite sketch of a mountain pool, fed by three brooks and overhung on the rising side by huge blocks of tumbledown stone swathed in moss.

‘I watched him draw this,’ said Drusher. ‘It’s where I met him.’

Eisenhorn got up and limped around the table to Drusher’s side. He hunched over, one hand on the tabletop, and studied the sketch.

‘Your auto-séance, sir,’ said Drusher. ‘It did not conjure the old man from his grave at random. It conjured him to tell me something important. I just didn’t know what until now. See what he wrote beneath the drawing?’

‘Ruins beside pool,’ Eisenhorn read out. ‘Keshtre watch gate.’

‘I thought the old stones were a southern watchtower for Helter,’ said Drusher, tapping the picture. ‘But they are, in fact, a northern watchtower of Keshtre.’

‘This was in the library all along?’ asked Eisenhorn.

‘Yes,’ said Drusher. ‘Sark really was Fargul’s neighbour.’

Eisenhorn straightened up. For a second, he placed his hand on Drusher’s shoulder. Drusher wasn’t sure if the inquisitor was simply seeking support as he rose, or if he was fleetingly expressing some form of appreciation.

‘This was in the library all along?’ he repeated. He was looking at Audla Jaff.

‘I thought you’d been through every book in the library, Mam Jaff?’ asked Garofar.

‘I hadn’t got to every single volume,’ said Jaff sharply. She restrained herself. ‘I was working methodically. There were still a hundred or so volumes to be assessed. I clearly hadn’t got to that one yet.’

She looked at Eisenhorn.

‘My sincere apologies, sir,’ she said. ‘You know my work to be thorough and–’

Eisenhorn raised his hand.

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Let’s find the house this ruined gate belongs to.’

Thirteen

THIRTEEN

Gates of Keshtre

Drusher buttoned up his old coat and wandered into the yard to join the others. It was late morning, and the sun was out. Most of the party were checking their walking gear or their weapons. Eisenhorn stood apart, talking to Betancore.

As he approached, Drusher overheard the end of their conversation.

‘I still say you need to rest and leave this to Voriet,’ Betancore was saying.

‘Not an option, Medea.’

‘Then at least give me a few hours to find a decent ATV to–’

‘I can walk. The ground is too steep and the forest too dense for a vehicle.’

‘Then I’ll walk with you every step of the way–’

‘No,’ Eisenhorn said. ‘I want you at the landing zone, prepped. We may have need of heavier support.’

‘Gregor, we don’t have the sort of heavy support that–’

‘I know we don’t have him, Medea. Throne knows I wanted to bring him, but these days he’s too wayward. It would have taken all my effort just to keep him in line. We’ll have to manage without.’