Another silence, then Brydda growled, ‘A man’s ravings ought not to be spoken of, and the way I heard it, she left only because there was a task she had to do. A matter touching on many lives.’

I have to help him, I thought, fighting the stupor that sapped my will by imagining the black sword. This time, I felt its weight. Gathering myself, I summoned it into me more strongly than I had ever dared to do before. It was as if I had swallowed a hive of dark, furious bees. I rose up from Rushton’s body and felt the steady muscular beat of the wings of my spirit-form as the world of matter faded into vague shapes and silence. I lifted my hands to look at them. They were greenish white, though I had no memory of creating a spirit-form or of transferring my consciousness to it.

The black sword is me, I thought, just as Rushton said.

Sometimes even funaga speak wisely, said Maruman. Maybe that is why Marumanyelloweyes troubled to hold him to life. The cat stood before me in his greatcat spirit-form of gold slashed with black. His long snaky tail lashed and his two eyes flashed, one gold and one diamond bright and white glittered fiercely. Now it is up to Elspethlnnle, he said, and vanished.

I looked down at the dull brown form that was Rushton’s body and saw the red and sickly green streaks in the spirit-form overlaying it. I thought of the golden link that bound us and as if the thought had summoned it, the link showed itself to my eyes, shining bright as sunlight on waves. I put my hand into it and felt the hot red ravenous heat of Rushton’s sickness shot through with a longing for me so great that even as I willed myself into him, he was drawing me to him.

Then I was standing on a silent sea-shore. It was dark and very quiet save for the soft whisper of the waves against my feet. There was no moon and the stars overhead were none I knew, but the sea itself was alive with phosphorescence.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Rushton.

‘My love,’ he said, and took me in his arms.

Oh, the joy and wonder of that embrace. I breathed deep, smelling his warm body, relishing the feel of his hard muscular arms wrapped so tightly around me. Never let me go, I thought, but I said, ‘You are ill.’

He only kissed me. His lips were on my brow, on my cheeks, on my neck, and finally, hungrily, on my mouth. At last, he said, ‘I will die content holding you, for though this be but a dream, it is a sweeter dream than life without you.’