His tension drained away. He felt limp. Almost disappointed. He hadn’t realized how tense he was….

It began suddenly. He did not know anything was wrong till his mother was hurled away, and he went rigid. A dark nimbus surrounded him.

The air crackled. Shih-ka’i had felt the same thing just before the disaster on the Tusghus. “Mistress! Princess!”

Varthlokkur flung himself forward, caught his woman before she fell. Ragnarson had sword in hand with almost magical quickness. He crouched, growling in his harsh western tongue.

Mist shrieked, “Ethrian! Stop!” Shih-ka’i heard echoes of the other woman in her voice.

He tackled the youth. The boy remained rigid. Shih-ka’i clamped his fingers round a stiff throat.

Something moved on Lioantung’s wall. Bodyguards scrambled. The western King bellowed. His sword hammered the air above Shih-ka’i’s head.

The youth bucked violently. Shih-ka’i bounced to his feet as the King plucked a broken spear from the earth, a ballista shaft diverted from its deadly arc. “I owe you, westerner.” He faced the Deliverer.

Madness filled the boy’s eyes. His mother wept against the wizard’s chest. The boy’s mouth slowly opened.

The woman in white stepped past Shih-ka’i. A faraway voice said, “Ethrian?… Oh, no! It’s Him. The stone god has taken him.”

“Impossible,” Shih-ka’i snapped. “We destroyed him.” He and Hsu Shen, Pan ku and Lord Kuo… Hadn’t they?

Gently, Varthlokkur passed his wife to Ragnarson. There was some trust left there. He made a small gesture. The Unborn drifted closer.

“No. Don’t,” said the woman in white. “I summoned him. It’s only just that I banish him.”

The fury of an immense inner struggle distorted the boy’s face. His mouth opened wide. He began filling his lungs. He tried forcing his hands to his lips. They hovered, palsied, a few inches away.

The air crackled as it had before the disaster on the Tusghus. Shih-ka’i snatched up a handful of earth, flung himself forward, forced the soil into the Deliverer’s mouth. His off hand he drove viciously into the boy’s chest. He felt bone crack under his fingers.

Sahmanan’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, like the wailing of the mothers of the thousands when they learned what had become of their sons in Lord Kuo’s ill-fated western campaign. The youth faced her, pale, clutching his chest. He croaked, “Sahmanan! No! I beg you… I’ll give you anything. All the power I gave him. I’ll give you the Word. You could be queen of the world.”

The keening grew louder. Shih-ka’i ground his palms against the earholes of his mask, could not shut it out.

The Deliverer’s mouth opened wide. Vomit gouted. Again he drew breath for a shout.