‘Sparhawk!’ Otha spat out a foul oath and slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne-like litter. ‘The man’s existence doth canker my soul. His very name doth cause me pain. Thou wert to keep him away from Chyrellos, Martel. Why didst thou fail me and my God?’

‘I didn’t really fail, Your Majesty,’ Martel replied calmly, ‘and neither did Annias for that matter. Putting His Grace on the Archprelate’s throne was only a means to an end, and we’ve achieved that end. Bhelliom is under this very roof. The scheme to elevate Annias so that he could force the Elenes to surrender the jewel to us was filled with uncertainties. This has been much faster and much more direct. Results are what Azash wants, Your Majesty, not the success or failure of any of the interim steps.’

Otha grunted. ‘Perhaps,’ he conceded, ‘but Bhelliom hath not been passively delivered into the possession of our God. It doth still lie in the hands of this Sparhawk. Ye have put armies in his path and he doth easily o’erwhelm them. Our Master hath sent servants more horrible than death itself to slay him, and he lives yet.’

‘Sparhawk’s only a man, after all,’ Lycheas said in his whining voice. ‘His luck can’t last forever.’

Otha threw a look at Lycheas that quite plainly spoke of death. Arissa put her arm protectively around her son’s shoulders and looked as if she were about to come to his defence, but Annias shook his head warningly.

‘Thou hast defiled thyself by acknowledging this bastard of thine, Annias,’ Otha declared in a tone of towering contempt. He paused, looking at them. ‘Can none of ye understand?’ he suddenly roared. ‘This Sparhawk is Anakha, the unknown. The destinies of all men are clearly visible – all men save Anakha. Anakha moves outside destiny. Even the Gods fear him. He and Bhelliom are linked in some way beyond the comprehension of the men or the Gods of this world, and the Goddess Aphrael serves them. We do not know their purpose. All that doth save us from them lies in the fact that Bhelliom’s submission to Sparhawk is reluctant. Should it ever yield to him willingly, he will be a God.’

‘But he’s not a God yet, Your Majesty,’ Martel smiled. ‘He’s trapped in that maze, and he’ll never leave his companions behind to assault us alone. Sparhawk’s predictable. That’s why Azash accepted Annias and me. We know Sparhawk, and we know what he’ll do.’

‘And didst thou know that he would succeed as he hath?’ Otha sneered. ‘Didst thou know that his coming here would threaten our very existence – and the existence of our God?’