The stormcaller

title, but my gift was rather special. Lady Amavoq told me to watch over you. I was intended to be your bride and royal assassin.'

'What was the gift? Why only intended?'

The gift was the Skull of Dreams, the one owned by Aryn Bwr's queen. That's how I'm here: other than warded minds, I can enter most people's dreams – and once there, I can kill them. As for intended, well, things went astray there, but it's only been since I met Morghien that I begin to understand why.

'I'm now a prisoner in my dreams. When I accepted the Skull, my fate was entwined with yours – but unfortunately, you have many fates… and none. Either way, it was too much: it broke me. Oh Gods, did it hurt – you've no idea just how much something like that could hurt.' She stopped for a moment, her pain showing in her face. Isak didn't know how to respond; he felt guilty for something that he knew nothing about.

Xeliath shuddered. 'For a moment, an instant, I saw a thousand futures ahead of me. The Skull stopped my mind being completely destroyed; it cushioned the blow, somehow, but it could do nothing to stop me screaming. I looked like I'd been struck down by madness. She sighed. 'My family believe I have been called as a prophet. Now I'm kept confined and drugged.'

'And this is my fault?' Isak couldn't keep the incredulous edge from his voice, but Xeliath gave no sign that she had noticed.

'In a way. When I was following your mind, I found Morghien, passing close by, and I entered his dreams out of curiosity. The man o many spirits: he is well named. I found more answers than I'd expected,

and answers that I had not expected.' She sighed. 'There were so many

prophecies about the Age of Fulfilment – so many hands trying to affect the future – that it looks like they may all have failed.'

'How? You're not making any sense.' He was beginning to feel stupid: should it be this hard to grasp?

She smiled and patted the ground beside her. He sat, feeling the soft ground give slightly under his weight, and Xeliath leaned against him, slender and frail, but curiously warming on his skin.

'You know about prophets, yes? That they speak in riddles and everything has to be deciphered? Well, they don't see the future, they see what is possible, and then those visions are translated according to the viewpoint of the scholars who study the prophet.'

'So the scholars could be lying?'

'If only it were that simple.' Xeliath gave a rueful chuckle and took his hand, patting it affectionately before interlacing her fingers with his and squeezing them. 'Sometimes they are correct, sometimes not. But you must remember that there's a power in words, there's a power in belief. Men work towards what they believe – Gods are sustained partly by the belief and devotion of their followers. You should know that words can affect the Land – whether it's logical or not, we see the Land through words, stories and beliefs. The course of history itself can be shaped by these words. You might want to tell your father that. Honestly, giving a white-eye such a name… it just pushed you further from the intended path. He might find himself explaining his decision at the Gates of Death to an annoyed deity.'

'I didn't pick my name… and I still don't get what is this to do with me.' Now he sounded plaintive.

'You're at the heart of it all. 'Saviour' is just a name, but it's loaded

with enough power to affect those who are associated with it. Names

can be used by men and Gods towards their own ends. You've become

the centre of the prophecies of the Saviour, whether you like it or not,

but the laws of magic are not the same as those of nature.

‘Everyone with any power has tried to influence your birth, to

create the man they needed. They failed. Between them they gave

you the power to change the Land around you, to bend fate to your will, but they forgot the difference between nature and magic: when forces of nature meet, either one wins outright, or they cancel each other out. When forces of magic meet, they corrupt and change each other.

'The result is that you have the power without the desire: no dreams of conquest, no grand schemes, just an emptiness of ambition. Destiny has twisted about you and snapped.'

Isak took a deep breath. He had no idea what questions he should

be asking. His mind was blank.

'I- How can 1 know you're telling me the truth?'

Xeliath smiled, understanding his suspicion. 'Well, first of all, you

recognise my voice don't you? 1 was watching that first night in the

Tower – though I didn't know where you were, 1 could feel your soul

entwined with my own. I've been with you since the beginning of this new life of yours.'

Isak's eyes widened in recollection and he opened his mouth to speak, but Xeliath placed a finger to his lips and hushed him. Then she put her hand on his chest and pressed her fingers against the scar there. 'And 1 know you can feel it within yourself. You've been Chosen, yet you hardly care, do you? It's not affected you: whatever sense of purpose you feel comes from your intelligence, not your instincts.

'I-' Xeliath looked around suddenly, alarm flashing over her face. Isak looked too, but he could see nothing in the empty landscape – then he remembered this was just an image in his mind. He closed his eyes and reached out cautiously.

It was as if there were two Lands, laid one upon the other. He could feel his friends asleep around him under a canopy of trees, and the grass, fluttering out on the plain. He focused on the dream scene – and found the source of Xeliath's concern. A shadow swirled around them, like fingers of cloud drifting past the unseen sun. Isak recognised the sensation; it was what he'd felt on the battlements, at Suzerain Fordan's feast.

'I must leave,' Xeliath began, 'don't worry; I'll deal with whatever that is. Did Morghien give you letters for the King of Narkang?' Isak nodded, his mind still on the shadow.

'Give them to King Emin in private; he will explain in more detail-1 don't know him yet, but the King's mind shines as brightly as yours and he could be as important as you are. Shadows fear him. I will come to you again, when I can.' She hesitated, her confidence melting away as she stared up into eyes that mirrored her own.

Tentatively she drew herself closer, breathing in the scent of his body, and placed a tender kiss on his lips. Isak felt her tongue flicker against his own, and then she pulled back. She looked sad.

Isak saw her completely open and vulnerable. The scar on his chest burned with shame and lust. 'Wait,' he cried, feeling himself drifting awake, 'if I've broken your mind, then why are you still helping me?'

Now all he could see was the outline of her face against the starry sky. The melancholy in her voice was almost more than Isak could bear. 'Because it's what I am. It's all I have left.'

CHAPTER 26

The further south they travelled, the more winter lost its edge. Nights were cold, especially when they slept on board the riverboat, but the familiar bite of snow in the air was gone. The Parian felt summer on the horizon as they left the shadow of the mountains and crossed wide empty plains. Narkang lay to the south-west, but they had no intention of going near either Vanach, which had strict religious laws too easy to break unsuspectingly, or Tor Milist – no one knew what reception Isak might get there.

Instead, they travelled on the river that marked the border between Tor Milist and Scree for much of the way. There was a small risk of trouble, but their party was well able to deal with any problems they might encounter.

It was strange to wake without a mountain somewhere on the horizon, but the presence of the early morning sunshine more than compensated. The sight of thin wisps of cloud above, all edged in gold, brought a smile to Isak's lips. He began to remember the pleasure to be found out in the wilds. With the warm memory of Xeliath in his head and friends surrounding him, Isak found himself enjoying life more than ever. Only the lingering memory