Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

Legana looked at him, and Isak reached out a hand to awkwardly pat hers; he had two fingernails missing and not one finger followed the natural line. A man's touch had always made her skin crawl, sparked a flutter of panic in her heart. It had taken her years to learn how to keep such reactions in check, even with her unyielding strength of mind… but Isak was as a child.

She took his hand and held it between her own, feeling him tremble slightly as he spoke.

'These holes are the only weapons I have.' He raised his other hand and Legana flinched as she realised he held Eolis in it. 'This I have no use for, I'm just waiting for someone to need it.'

Legana let Isak go and wrote – Will holes be enough?

'Perhaps,' Isak replied, enigmatically, 'but no. There will still be sacrifices. How it may be done I don't know.'

– I don't understand.

Isak stood, and looking down at Legana, said, 'I know what will stop… him… but…' He flexed his damaged fingers, as if reaching for a solution, then said sadly, 'The pieces are not yet complete.'

– And Azaer? 'How do you kill a shadow?'

– There are ways. There has to be.

Isak held up a bag that hung from his waist. 'These are the key, hidden somewhere inside them.' He opened the bag and showed Legana the object within, a Crystal Skull. It wasn't one of those given to Isak by the Knights of the Temples, but the Skull of Dreams, the one fused to Xeliath's skin until her death.

'Look inside and find the answers. That's what I was born to do: crack open skulls and expose what lies within. These were there at the beginning, when Aryn Bwr set out on the path of rebellion. They were old when he found them, they were old when the shadow led him to a barrow caught in twilight and twisted history. To understand this war I must understand them and their place in this Land. Until then, we are lost.'

Legana shivered, the small spark of Fate that remained within her vibrating as he spoke the words inscribed on Doranei's arm.

– We must go, she wrote, pushing herself upright again.

'Where?'

– To find the king. His last chance may already be in his hands.

Major Amber stopped as an unexpected cool breath of wind drifted over him. He turned and looked at the city behind him, the dirty-white stone of Ismess nestled around the base of the slope he had been climbing. The wind tugged at his clothes with renewed force and Amber closed his eyes, imagining being carried up into the sky. When he'd started up towards the Library of Seasons there had been a Litse white-eye flying high above him, staring down at the grand, dilapidated temples and the sprawling Palace of the Three Winds.

The slope, a huge stepped incline two hundred yards long, was called Ilit's Stair. It was the only official entrance to the library, located inside Blackfang Mountain. The rulers of the Circle City's other quarters had tunnelled through miles of rock to provide private entrances, so they could meet on relatively neutral ground. The rigid white lines of the library looked even starker against the black rock of the mountain, especially when lit by the summer sun high in the sky.

Amber had ignored the hostile looks while travelling through the city of the Menin's ancient enemy; he was used to them now. Walking up Ilit's Stair however, he was reminded of the weapons stores in the guardhouse. Amber was from a military family, and his ancestors had doubtless taken part in the Menin slaughter of the Litse. The weapons – bundles of arrows and ballista-bolts, enough for every Menin who had participated – were stored even today, to prevent the quarter and the library being sacked again.

'Didn't help you though, did it?' Amber called up to the dark shape in the sky. 'You let us in this time.'

He resumed his ascent, part of him still anticipating the flash of an arrow from the shadows, but he reached the open gate without drama and stopped to inspect the changes that had happened since he was last there. The damage to the buildings took him by surprise; he hadn't been back since the guardian had been woken.

As he walked through the gate, Amber realised the library was busier than it had been in years, centuries more likely. Blond-haired labourers swarmed over every building, even those that looked damaged beyond repair. As well as the workmen, he could see teams of engineers, soldiers and scholars, servants wearing the livery of the Ruby Tower – there were even some courtiers lazing in the shade or eating at long stone tables.

'So it's true,' Amber murmured to himself, 'Duchess Escral has moved herself to the library – but at whose suggestion, I wonder? If there really was a Devil Stair created in the tower by the assassins I can see why she would, but this isn't the most obvious alternative.' Intelligence on the assault on the Ruby Tower was sketchy, to say the least, but one mage had suggested the assassins had killed Aracnan by somehow casting him down into Ghenna. Amber suspected that before long the Menin would be getting the blame for it all, their lord having created that terrifying precedent in the recent battle.

The duchess' scrawny steward caught sight of him and hurried over. He bowed low as he said, 'Major, welcome to the Library of Seasons.'

Amber grunted in response and continued to scan the faces. Just emerging from the remains of the Fearen House, where the dragon had made a lair for itself, he spotted the waddling form of Lord Celao. As nominal custodian of the library, the obese white-eye should be securing his valuable property, but from the few Litse guards in view it appeared that wasn't as great a concern as Amber had expected. Servants in a variety of liveries bustled around him, but he ignored them all – despite the fact some were carrying books from the Fearen House.

Interesting. Celao's not only tolerating the Byoran presence; he seems to be giving tacit agreement to it, else he'd be throwing his considerable weight around.

'I hope you're not going to ask me for my weapons, Steward Jato,' Amber said eventually.

'Aha, of course not, Major.' Jato's beaky face was a mass of wrinkles as he tittered obsequiously. 'Can I fetch you some refreshment on this warm day?'

'Just Kayel, please.'

Jato straightened and frowned. 'Sergeant Kayel? Certainly, Major. I believe he is attending the duchess in the Summerturn House.' He pointed towards the building just past the ruined Scholars' Palace. There were deep-scored claw-marks on the stone, but no apparent structural damage.

The steward started off in that direction, but before he'd gone a few yards Amber called him back. 'Wait, I want to talk to you first.'

Jato looked at him with an expression that Amber eventually realised was intended to be sombre concentration. 'Of course, Major, how may I help?'

'The child, Ruhen – what do you think of him?'

'The little prince, sir? Why, he is a blessing for us all!' Jato looked almost hurt at the question, and his pale cheeks coloured.

'Does he -? Well, does he seem like other children to you?'

'Certainly not!' Jato gasped. 'He is above us all; untouched by the cares and fears of this life. He will lead us to salvation – to peace.'

'And you're his devoted servant, eh?'

The hectic colour drained from Jato's face. 'Of course I am… why would you ask such a thing? What lies have you been told?'

The fear was plain to see on Jato's face, but Amber ignored his questions, saying, 'That will be all, steward, thank you. Please fetch Sergeant Kayel.'

Steward Jato squawked breathlessly for a few heartbeats, until the big soldier pointed towards the Summerturn House, whereupon he flinched away and bowed hurriedly.

Maybe the link between Kayel and me remains strong, Amber noted as he watched Jato scuttle away. A magical link had been created in Scree between Amber and Ruhen's big guardian, one that remained to this day. His best guess was it had been created by some follower of Azaer to add to the confusion and chaos that ended in the city's destruction. He'd still not worked out how to exploit its existence. I shouldn't have that effect on a man used to Kayel's presence, not unless he had reason to fear.