‘I hate poison,’ he said, stripping the blood off the edge of his axe with his thumb and forefinger. He flung the blood away and then ran a practised thumb along the edge. ‘It’s going to take a week to polish out all these nicks,’ he said mournfully, turning and starting back down again, leaving the Princess Arissa sprawled on the terrace above him.

Sparhawk retrieved his sword and descended. He felt very, very tired now. He wearily picked up his gauntlets and crossed the littered floor to Berit, who stood staring at him in awe. ‘That was a nice throw,’ he said to the young man, putting his hand on Berit’s armoured shoulder. ‘Thank you, brother.’

Berit’s smile was like the sun coming up.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Sparhawk added, ‘you’d probably better go and find Bevier’s axe. He’s very fond of it.’

Berit grinned. ‘Right away, Sparhawk.’

Sparhawk looked around at the corpse-littered temple, then up through the shattered dome at the stars twinkling overhead in the cold winter sky. ‘Kurik,’ he said without thinking, ‘what time do you make it?’ Then he broke off as a wave of unbearable grief overwhelmed him. He steeled himself. ‘Is everybody all right?’ he asked his friends, looking around. Then he grunted, not really trusting himself to speak. He drew in a deep breath. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said gruffly.

They crossed the polished floor and went up the wide terraces to the top. Somehow in the vast upheaval of the encounter at the altar, all the statues encircling the wall had been shattered. Kalten stepped on ahead and looked up the marble stairs. ‘The soldiers seem to have run off,’ he reported.

Sephrenia countered the spell which had blocked the stairs and they started up.

‘Sephrenia.’ The voice was hardly more than a croak.

‘She’s still alive,’ Ulath said almost accusingly.

‘That happens once in a while,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Sometimes the poison takes a little longer.’

‘Sephrenia, help me. Please help me.’

The small Styric woman turned and looked back across the temple at Princess Arissa, who had weakly raised her head to plead for her life.

Sephrenia’s tone was as cold as death itself. ‘No, Princess,’ she replied. ‘I don’t think so.’ Then she turned again and went on up the stairs with Sparhawk and the rest of them close behind her.

Chapter 31