‘A tactic that failed.’

‘A scouting party of T’lan Imass discovered me. I destroyed most of them, but one escaped. From that moment, I knew their army would come, eventually. Granted, they took their time about it, but time is what they have aplenty.’

‘A scouting party? How many did you destroy?’

‘Seven.’

‘And are their remains among those surrounding this tower?’

She smiled again. ‘I would think not, Thelomen Toblakai. To the T’lan Imass, destruction is failure. Failure must be punished. Their methods are… elaborate.’

‘Yet what of the warriors lying below, and those around the tower?’

‘Fallen, but not in failure. Here I lie, after all.’

‘Enemies should be killed,’ the Teblor growled, ‘not imprisoned.’

‘I would not argue that sentiment,’ the Jaghut replied.

‘I sense nothing evil from you.’

‘It has been a long time since I heard that word. In the wars with the T’lan Imass, even, that word had no place.’

‘I must answer injustice,’ he rumbled.

‘As you will.’

‘The need overwhelms all caution. Delum Thord would smile.’

‘Who is Delum Thord?’

Not answering, Karsa unslung his pack then threw off his bear cloak and stepped towards the ring of stones.

‘Stay back, warrior!’ the Jaghut hissed. ‘This is High Tellann-’

‘And I am Karsa Orlong, of the Teblor,’ the warrior growled. He kicked at the nearest stones.

Searing flame swept up to engulf Karsa. He snarled and pushed his way through it, reaching down both hands to take the slab of stone, grunting as he lifted it from the woman’s chest. The flames swarmed him, seeking to rend his flesh from his bones, but his growl simply deepened. Pivoting, flinging the huge slab to one side. Where it struck a wall, and shattered.

The flames died.

Karsa shook himself, then looked down once more.

The ring was now broken. The Jaghut’s eyes were wide as she stared up at him, movement stirring her limbs.

‘Never before,’ she sighed, then shook her head as if in disbelief. ‘Ignorance, honed into a weapon. Extraordinary, Thelomen Toblakai.’

Karsa crouched down beside his pack. ‘Are you hungry? Thirsty?’

She was slow in sitting up. The T’lan Imass had stripped her, leaving her naked, but she seemed unaffected by the bitter cold air now filling the chamber. Though she appeared young, he suspected she was anything but. He felt her eyes watching him as he prepared the meal.

‘You crossed swords with Icarium. There had ever been but a single conclusion to such an ill-fated thing, but that you are here is proof that you somehow managed to avoid it.’

Karsa shrugged. ‘No doubt we will resume our disagreement the next time we meet.’

‘How did you come to be here, Karsa Orlong?’

‘I am seeking a horse, Jaghut. The journey was long, and I was led to understand that this dream world would make it shorter.’

‘Ah, the ghost-warriors hovering behind you. Even so, you take a grave risk travelling the Tellann Warren. I owe you my life, Karsa Orlong.’ She cautiously climbed to her feet. ‘How can I repay you?’

He straightened to face her, and was surprised-and pleased-to see that she almost matched him in height. Her hair was long, murky brown, tied at the back. He studied her for a moment, then said, ‘Find for me a horse.’

Her thin eyebrows rose fractionally. ‘That is all, Karsa Orlong?’

‘Perhaps one more thing-what is your name?’

‘That is what you would ask?’

‘No.’

‘Aramala.’

He nodded and turned once more to readying the meal. ‘I would know all you can tell me, Aramala, of the seven who first found you.’

‘Very well. If I may ask something in turn. You passed through a place on your way here, where Jhag had been… imprisoned. I shall of course free those who have survived.’

‘Of course.’

‘They are half-bloods.’

‘Aye, so I am told.’

‘Do you not wonder at what the other half is?’

He glanced up, then slowly frowned.

She smiled. ‘There is much, I think, that I must tell you.’

Some time later, Karsa Orlong strode from the tower. He moved on, resuming the trail of the army where it began once again beyond the frozen ground of Omtose Phellack.

When he finally emerged from the warren, into the heat of late afternoon on the world of his birth, he found himself on the edge of a ridge of battered hills. Pausing, he glanced behind him, and could make out, at the very rim of the horizon, a city-probably Sarpachiya-and the glimmer of a vast river.