circle yet, just in case.'
The two men stood watching the sheet in silence until Emin seemed to remember he was naked and started shivering again.
'Can I get dressed yet?'
Morghien nodded, his eyes not leaving the sheet. 'The circle must remain until after the sun is fully down.'
Emin unwrapped the bundle of clothes by the stool and quickly pulled on the breeches, then the boots. He was reaching for the shirt when Morghien suddenly stumbled sideways, as though he'd been struck in the shoulder.
'Morghien!' Emin shouted, grabbing his friend by the arm to stop him falling.
'Shit,' Morghien whimpered, supporting himself on the wall with one hand, 'He comes.'
Emin turned towards the circle and saw the air shimmer and prickle with tiny bursts of silvery-green light. A crashing sound came from nowhere and echoed through the small tower-room, sounding like the fall of a tombstone. Both men clapped their hands to their ears, wincing, as a second crash reverberated through their bodies. In the blink of an eye a tall, cowled figure appeared in the circle. The force of his arrival knocked them both backwards, but it was Emin who recovered his wits first. He dragged Morghien down to one knee.
'You think to bind me?' Death rumbled slowly.
The eight-foot-tall God towered over them both. His body was hidden by a long robe; in one hand He held a golden sceptre. With His free hand Death stroked the invisible barrier of the circle, His emaciated bone-white fingers and pitch-black, pointed fingernails leaving a trail of light in the air where they scored the barrier.
'No, my Lord,' Morghien gasped, flinching every time those fingers touched the barrier he'd created, 'I would never presume such strength.'
Death looked down at the sheet on the ground inside the circle. His face was hidden in the shadows of His cowl but Morghien felt His gaze burning like a flame.
'You presume too much.' There was a growl of anger in Death's voice and Morghien felt a flicker of panic. 'I see a traitor before me.'
'I had no choice,' Emin said, feeling the God's focus alight upon him. He chanced a look up and felt pulsing anger radiate over him, as Death's power had once burned in his veins. 'What was done in Scree was an abomination, but it was done to provoke a reaction; to undo the damage it did I must be free of its influence.'
'And so you betray your God,' came the booming reply. 'Traitors to my name are heretic and there is only one punishment for that.'
'My Lord,' Morghien repeated, 'can you not see the damage your wrath has done?'
'I have killed unbelievers. They are of no consequence.'
'The deaths are poisoning the Land against you, and Azaer exploits that.'
'Azaer is a shadow, nothing more. I fear no God, no mortal -and certainly no mere shadow.'
'That is what it is counting on,' Emin insisted, a feeling of desperation welling up inside him. 'It has made its weakness a strength. It goes unnoticed and unchecked.'
'You have no need to fear the shadow,' Death growled. 'You need fear only me. You have walked away from the vow you took, and that makes you my enemy.' It appeared to the two men watching that the figure looked off into the distance over Emin's head. 'You -and your blood; perhaps my punishment should be the son you watch over at night.'
'No!' Emin shouted, but before he could say any more, Morghien had plunged his hand into the pocket of his jacket.
'We are not your enemy,' he roared, rising. 'You are blinded by what has been done to you, and you cannot see the danger emerging from the shadows!'
'Kneel before your God,' Death snarled, his voice crashing against their ears with savage force. 'Kneel, or I shall strike you down and consign your soul to Ghenna.'
'You will do neither,' Morghien snapped, 'and nor will you threaten a newborn out of pique.' His fingers closed around the Skull in his pocket and a surge of energy flooded his body. 'Our war is with the shadow – whether or not you see the threat, I will not let you stand in our way.'
'You threaten me?' Death roared, raising his sceptre.
In response Morghien pulled the Skull from his pocket and held it in the air between the chalk circles. 'You are weakened, diminished by what happened in your temple in Scree. I have felt the Reapers in Lord Isak's shadow. They are broken free of your grip and the loss has wounded you gravely. I may not have the strength to defeat you, even with this Skull, but you know the hurt it can cause you. To kill me will cost me more than you can afford.'
'You declare war on your God? Such foolishness shall be your damnation.'
Death's reply was considerably quieter. Morghien could feel His nttention fixed firmly on the Crystal Skull. For creatures of magic, fighting from within a containing circle would be like an army
fighting up a mountain slope, with every step requiring huge effort. The power of one of the Crystal Skulls would be like a river running down that slope.
'I do not,' Morghien said as calmly as he could with magic coursing through his body. 'You are the Lord of Final Judgments and no mortal can deceive you. So I say this: I believe we serve your interests. I believe we do what must be done and that if we fail, so will our Gods. For this reason I must threaten you, for I cannot allow even you to stop us.'
'You do not lie,' Death said in an emotionless voice. 'As misguided as your words are, I see your belief.'
Morghien pressed on, not even trying to understand the mind of a being so old and powerful. He just had to hope the God's blinding wrath was not all-consuming, that there was some sense of the divine judge left.
'Then please, accept my apology and permit us to go about our mission.' He took a slow breath and played the last card he held. 'At the end of the Wars of the Houses you appeared before Aryn Bwr as he was about to slaughter his defeated foes. You spoke to the fallen princes; you heard their words, and you forgave their deeds as honestly done. You prevented Aryn Bwr from wiping them out, and thus healed the rift between the noble houses.'
Death did not answer immediately. Morghien felt his chest tighten as the enormity of what he was doing struck home. Bar-gaining a truce with Death? What am 1 doing?
'You appeal for clemency? Very well, it shall be granted. I shall not destroy you or your nation for what you have done. But no more are you welcome in my temple. Your war is foolish and my servants shall give you no aid. Neither ally nor enemy, until the day of your judgment.'
Both men bowed, neither trusting themselves to speak in case they disrupted the fragile balance in the air. With an effort Morghien cut the flow of magic to the circle and reached out to scuff the chalk with his hand. It was a risk, but they had to take it.
Death remained motionless. Morghien could feel the God's gaze on him, even with his head bowed low. In the next instant it was gone, and they looked up to find an empty room. The sheet lay where Emin had let it fall, but the shadow imprinted upon it had left the linen charred and crumbling. A gust of freezing wind blew in the window. A few flecks of ash skittered away over what remained of the sheet, revealing a sooty stain on the stone underneath.
'By the Dark Place,' Emin whispered hoarsely, 'what have we done?'
CHAPTER 17
Mihn realised he was lurking outside the Chief Steward's office. He kept to the shadows and ignored the men and women who walked past – he was not exactly waiting, nor exactly hesitating… He was glad the palms of his hands had at last stopped stinging. His feet were another matter, but he'd already padded his boots with wool and there was very little more he could do beyond easing from one foot to the other, an occasional, small reprieve.
For the twentieth time that day he inspected his hands, squinting in the poor light. It was late evening now and most of the staff who worked here had gone home, braving the icy streets. Mihn had spent most of the day in Lord
