sounded. Sleep had become a rare thing with Queen Oterness nursing a month-old son, and the touch of the Skull of Ruling only dulled the constant growl of anger at the back of his mind.
Morghien felt his fingernails dig into his palms. The Skull's reputation was not a pretty one and this close to it he could well believe the rumours. It had been made to endow Aryn Bwr's heir with the strength to rule after his father's death, but the Skull felt like a wild force to Morghien. Just being in its presence made his skin crawl, and that wasn't normal – nothing like that happened when he was with the young Lord Isak, who carried both Hunting and Protection.
Covering much of the centre of the room were two circles marked in chalk, one inside the other. Between the two Morghien had drawn the sigils of each of the Gods of the Upper Circle: Death, Karkarn, Nartis, Tsatach, Amavoq, Belarannar, Larat, Hit, Vrest, Inoth, Kitar and Alterr. He skirted the circles, treading carefully to avoid disrupting the chalk, and removed the augury chain from around his neck.
He pulled off the jewelled coins and placed them in turn on the corresponding sigil. The last two, the Lady and the Mortal, went into a pocket. That done, he opened a small ivory-inlaid box and withdrew a handful of dried, blackish-green leaves.
'Deathsbane?' Emin said with a frown. 'Is that wise?'
Morghien gave a sour bark of laughter. 'Do you mean, 'Will it only antagonise him further?'' He scattered the leaves liberally between the two circles, not waiting for an answer.
'I mean that it's usually only used in necromancy, or so I understood.'
Morghien shook his head. 'My friend, what we are planning to do will win us no commendations for piety; deathsbane is used in necromancy because it is effective. Healers use it often in poultices and brews; they don't tell people because there's always some fool who will use any excuse to tie you to a stake, but it's not heretical.'
'Very well,' Emin muttered, shivering a little. 'What now?'
'Now you sit in the circle, carefully.'
Lifting the edges of the sheet so they did not smudge the chalk markings, Emin positioned himself by the side of the circle, squatting down to leave most of the space empty behind him. The only light in the room was a single oil-lamp, turned down as low as it could go to leave just a glimmer.
Without the trappings of state, Emin looked to be a similar age to Morghien now. Emin had aged noticeably in the last year; both men had lined faces and greying whiskers now. While he retained his slender physique – all wiry strength, like a Harlequin – at that moment his majesty appeared diminished. They had first met when Emin was a carefree young man, but even then he had the bearing of a king. Now he was just a careworn, middle-aged man.
'Time to begin.' Morghien crouched at the circle's edge and began to mutter words so softly they were barely sounds at all. A little magic slid from his fingertips and followed the paths of chalk around in both directions. As they met and sealed the circles, Morghien felt a flash in his mind and reeled backwards as the magic barrier snapped open again.
'What happened?' Emin demanded.
Morghien took a moment to clear his wits and let the stinging in his head recede. 'I… Ah, I'm not sure.' He paused as he felt a stirring at the back of his mind: Seliasei, the Aspect of Vasle that inhabited his mind was making her presence known.
'Of course,' Morghien said aloud, 'it's the Skull; I'm trying to contain it within the circle as well as you.'
'And that is a bad thing?'
Morghien forced a smile. 'The Skulls are repositories of vast power. They constantly draw in and put out energy from the Land around them. I cut off that flow with the barrier, but it was like holding back a river with a sheet of paper – the current simply tore a hole and broke the barrier.'
'Are you hurt?'
'Thank you, my friend, but no. I used very little magic, just enough to seal the circle and create the binding on anything inside. Circles have a very specific prominence in the magical realm: you don't need to use a lot of power to make them effective. But the bond is inward-facing. Forces entering from outside it are not subject to the same constraints.'
'What do we do about it?'
He held out his hand. 'Give me the Skull. It won't disrupt the ceremony outside the circles – in fact, it might make it easier.'
He recommenced the ritual, sealing the circle again and then standing over the king, speaking arcane words he'd learned a century before. The Gods were traditionally at their weakest at twilight, when they would withdraw a little from the Land, so magic involving them always worked best in that halfway time. The ritual itself was simple, and began with a very gentle summoning. The use of force would come later.
The memory of his first teacher in magic, the father of the infamous Cordein Malich, appeared abruptly in Morghien's mind as the soft syllables slipped from his tongue, leaving a coppery tang in their wake.
'Some see magic as a man's art, where directness and bold action will always triumph. They're the fools you need to watch for; the ones who puff themselves up like tomcats without a shred of caution. This art we borrow from Gods and daemons, creatures that could swat us like flies should they wish to. Immortals do not appreciate bluster; a little hum-bleness never goes amiss.' He sighed as he thought, A shame your son never appreciated your lessons, my friend.
Morghien sensed the light grow a little dimmer. The shadows were already deep, with the lamp turned right down, but the change was enough to notice. He took a long breath.
Humble? I'm trying, master, however ill'Suited 1 am to it.
He repeated the words of summoning, holding back the flow of magic as much as he could without breaking it. He wasn't often glad of his lack of personal power, but this time it was a good thing, for a full summoning would draw an entity and drag it into the real world. With luck what he was doing was nudging it forward at a time when its reach was slightly weakened.
He nodded to Emin and the king let the sheet slip from his body, spreading it out behind him, taking great care not to let it break the circle. Now Morghien held up the lamp to reveal Emin's shadow on the sheet as he repeated the summoning, slowly, softly. If he was too insistent, the summoning might work too well; they were already running a great risk. This was by no means the first time he had performed a sundering, but King Emin's presence meant the chance of being noticed was far greater, and therein lay the danger.
The shadow on the sheet gave a slight twitch. Morghien watched it carefully. King Emin kept perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Morghien as he waited. The shadow twitched again, then turned its head to look around the room.
Excellent. He reached out and placed a hand up against the invisible barrier cast by the circle. It was intact; everything was going according to plan. At twilight the Gods withdrew a little from the Land, but a tiny fragment of their selves was imbued in each of their servants who took holy orders. King Emin had done that years ago – albeit for reasons more practical than pious. The summoning was aimed at the only part of Lord Death available to someone of Morghien's strength at twilight – that sliver within King Emin.
He turned the lamp up and watched the darkness behind Emin as it strengthened and solidified.
'I imbue,' he said aloud, allowing the flow of magic to increase and run forward towards the circle. The shadow trembled. 'I imbue,' he repeated, summoning the image of a hammer falling in his mind. Morghien had seen a mage-smith work his trade once, and had noted the directness required to weave magic into steel or silver, where the rhythm of the blows and the repetition of the words were as crucial as the strength of the wielder.
'I imbue,' he said a third time, pushing out as much magic as he could while signalling to Emin. As Morghien began to speak the words for a fourth time, Emin rose smartly from his crouching position and stepped out over the circle to join Morghien on the other side. The shadow lurched forward to follow, but was caught on the edge of the circle and rebounded, shuddering, as Emin wrenched himself from its grip. It stilled to a dark stain on the linen sheet.
Morghien blew out the lamp and plunged the room into near-darkness.
Both men blinked to adjust their eyes.
'It worked then?' Emin said, looking at the sheet. The shadow looked like a stain of some sort. Emin thought he could make out the top of the head and one arm, but he wasn't certain.
'It appears so,' Morghien said cautiously as he placed a restraining hand on his friend's arm. 'Don't break the
