Conjured, then forgotten. Wandering, an eternal flight from the sun, but there were always places to hide.

‘Stop that,’ Udinaas said, closing his eyes.

‘Why ever? I smell your blood, slave. Growing colder. I once knew a world of ice. After I was killed, yes, after. Even darkness has flaws, and that’s how they stole me. But I have dreams .’

‘So you’re always saying. Then follow them, wraith, and leave me alone.’

‘I have dreams and you understand nothing, slave. Was I pleased to serve? Never. Never ever never and again, never. I’m following you .’

Udinaas opened his eyes and stared down at the sliver of shadow between two rocks, from which the voice was emerging. Sand fleas scampered and darted on the flanking stone, but of the wraith itself there was no visible sign. ‘Why?’

‘Why ever why? That which you cast beckons me, slave. You promise a worthy journey – do you dream of gardens, slave? I know you do – I can smell it. Half dead and overgrown, why ever not? There is no escape. So, with my dreams, it serves me to serve. Serves to serve. Was I not once a Tiste Andii? I believe I was. Murdered and flung into the mud, until the ice came. Then torn loose, after so long, to serve my slayers. My slavers, whose diligence then wavered. Shall we whisper of betrayers, slave?’

‘You would bargain?’

‘Hither when you call me, call me Wither. I have dreams. Give me that which you cast. Give me your shadow, and I will become yours. Your eyes behind you, whom no-one else can see or hear, unless they guess and have power but why would they guess? You are a slave. Who behaves. Be sure to behave, slave, until the moment you betray.’

‘I thought Tiste Andii were supposed to be dour and miserable. And please, Wither, no more rhymes.’

‘Agreed, once you give me your shadow.’

‘Can other wraiths see you? Hannan Mosag’s-’

‘That oaf? I will hide in your natural casting. Hidden. Never found. See, no rhymes. We were bold in those days, slave. Soldiers in a war, an invasion. Soaked in the cold blood of K’Chain Che’Malle. We followed the youngest child of Mother Dark herself. And we were witness.’

‘To what?’

‘To Bloodeye’s betrayal of our leader. To the dagger driven into our lord’s back. I myself fell to a blade wielded by a Tiste Edur. Unexpected. Sudden slaughter. We stood no chance. No chance at all.’

Udinaas made a face, studied the tossing waves that warred with the river’s outpouring current. ‘The Edur claim it was the other way round, Wither.’

‘Then why am I dead and they alive? If we were the ambushers that day?’

‘How should I know? Now, if you intend to lurk in my shadow, Wither, you must learn to be silent. Unless I speak to you. Silent, and watchful, and nothing more.’

‘First, slave, you must do something for me.’

Udinaas sighed. Most of the noble-born Edur were at the interment ceremony for the murdered fisherman, along with a half-dozen kin from the Beneda, since the Edur’s identity had finally been determined. Fewer than a dozen warriors remained in the compound behind him. Shadow wraiths seemed to grow bolder at such times, emerging to flit across the ground, between longhouses and along the palisade walls.

He had often wondered at that. But now, if Wither was to be believed, he had his answer. Those wraiths are not ancestral kin to the mortal Edur. They are Tiste Andii, the bound souls of the slain. And, I was desperate for allies … ‘Very well, what do you wish me to do Wither?’

‘Before the seas rose in this place, slave, the Hasana Inlet was a lake. To the south and west, the land stretched out to join with the westernmost tip of the Reach. A vast plain, upon which the last of my people were slaughtered. Walk the shoreline before you, slave. South. There is something of mine – we must find it.’

Udinaas rose and brushed the sand from his coarse woollen trousers. He looked about. Three slaves from the Warlock King’s citadel were down by the river mouth, beating clothes against rocks. A lone fisher-boat was out on the water, but distant. ‘How far will I need to walk?’

‘It lies close.’

‘If I am perceived to be straying too far, I will be killed outright.’

‘Not far, slave-’

‘I am named Udinaas, and so you will address me.’

‘You claim the privilege of pride?’

‘I am more than a slave, Wither, as you well know.’

‘But you must behave as if you were not. I call you “slave” to remind you of that. Fail in your deception, and the pain they shall inflict upon you in the search for all you would hide from them shall be without measure-’