the Wither Queen.
To Mihn's disgust she reacted like a dog snapping at a bone, her dead blue tongue flicking out to try and catch the drops.
'An acceptable covenant,' she rasped.
Without sheathing his sword Isak pulled a small silver box from a pocket in his tunic and dropped it at the Wither Queen's feet. 'The covenant is not yet complete,' he warned. 'Break one of your fingernails and put it in the box.'
'You claim a piece of my body, boy?' the Wither Queen demanded with sudden fury, 'a relic of the divine in the hands of a child?'
'Without it there is no bargain.' Isak's voice was controlled and calm; his concentration absolute. The stubborn nature of a white-eye was to pursue every goal relentlessly; to be unshakable until success was won. Often it made them uncaring, even soulless, but, as the Gods had intended, they were more often than not the victors in any struggle.
The Wither Queen snarled and twisted from side to side, as though trying to shake off the bonds of the bargain, but it would be fruitless. Whatever the limitations, the power Isak offered was impossible to refuse. At last the Aspect of Death, hissing like an enraged cat, tore at one fingernail and threw a fragment into the box.
Isak nodded solemnly. 'Then we have a covenant, my Lady,' he said in a far more respectful voice. 'The first prayer to your name shall be spoken at dawn on the steps of Death's temple. I will leave you to your work.'
The Wither Queen stared at the Lord of the Farlan a long moment before whirling away and melting into the wind. The crawling sensation stayed on Mihn's skin until the wind carried it high over the city and away.
Mihn could barely move. He watched in stunned silence as Isak nudged the silver box closed with his boot and dropped a piece of cloth over it. He swiftly wrapped the box and tied it with some grey cord.
'You…' His voice trailed off. 'That was…'
Isak looked up, his jaw tight with anger, but he couldn't hide the tear that fell. 'It was necessary. They're our enemies.'
'But-'
Isak cut him off. 'I know. There's no hiding from it; I can't even count how many will die from this.' He looked down. 'It's genocide, and one more scrap of my soul withers to nothing.'
Isak and Mihn didn't speak for the rest of the evening. Isak knew the condemnation he felt was his own, but he could not bear to look Mihn, or any other of his friends in the eye. He tried to lose himself in a book, but the effort increased his frustration and only Mihn's incredible reactions saved a rare work from the fire.
He felt sick to his stomach, and even his preferred option of drinking himself to sleep betrayed him as he retched up the first gulp of wine.
As a last resort he tried the forge, hoping to lose himself in the sweat and exertion of hammering, but when that failed he drifted back towards his rooms. As he passed through the Great Hall, something caught his eye. He stopped dead and stared at the heavy double doors that were the entrance to the Tower of Semar. They were framed by the wrought-iron wings and head of a dragon, a clear reminder of a task he had been avoiding for far too long.
'Now's as good a time as any,' he said to himself. 'I can hardly say I've got anything better to do.'
From the stairway there came a cough and Tila moved into Isak's view. 'Xeliath was asking for you,' she said with a smile.
'Is it urgent?'
'I don't believe so – she wasn't swearing, anyway.'
'Will you let her know I'll be there later – I've something that needs doing and I've put it off long enough.' At Tila's quizzical look he added, 'The dragon made a bargain with Lord Bahl, not the Farlan nation. I must try and strike the same bargain.'
He wanted to get on with it now. Isak walked into the centre of the room and reached out a hand before stopping himself. Instinctively he had reached towards the symbol on the wall that would carry him up, but for only the second time in his life he needed to go down. He put his hand on the lowest of all the symbols and let it draw a little magic from his body. A torrent of ghostly wings burst into life all around him as he felt the floor rush downwards.
In a moment the swirl dissipated to nothing and Isak found himself in pitch-blackness. He recoiled automatically before creating a ball of light in his palm. Total darkness was a rare thing in his life; it unnerved him. Here in a small, crudely finished stone chamber that more than resembled a tomb, it was worse.
The only exit was a hole in the wall that led onto a long sloped tunnel. As he followed it, walking as quickly as he could without breaking into a run, he remembered the first time he'd walked this way, a little more than a year ago. He found it hard to recognise the youth he had been then: he had changed in every possible way; the snow- white skin on his left arm and shoulder was far from the least welcome.
As he walked he began to detect the strange acrid smell he recalled from his previous visit, and listless threads of dormant magic in the air, drawn to the beast and the magical artefacts that had been entrusted to its care. He reached the cavern sooner than he'd expected and lingered a moment at the crudely cut archway that led in. He allowed the ball of pale blue light to dissipate, blinking to let his eyes adjust. There was the faintest of green tints outlining the room, tracing the flowing line of the ceiling and walls and producing a faint sparkle from the quartz nodules that studded the cavern's central pillars.
'Welcome, Lord Isak,' came the unexpected boom in his head.
He gave a start at the sheer volume, and it took him a moment to gather his wits. He crossed the threshold and entered the cavern, peering around, trying to make out the shape in the gloom that was Genedel. The last time he had been here the dragon had been resting in the centre of the room, between the crystal-studded columns, but he could not see it there now.
'Ah, thank you,' Isak said eventually.
'What brings you to my cavern?' There was a shuffling sound in some far distant corner of the cave which prompted Isak to peer forward.
'I- Where are you?'
'Where I choose to be. The sound you heard was a gargoyle; there are a number of entrances to this cavern system and more than one sort of carrion-eater comes down here.'
Isak froze. It was hard to tell whether there had been rebuke or insult there, but even so, Genedel's words had sounded less than friendly.
'Do they bother you?' he asked tentatively.
T am a dragon; do you think much bothers me for long?'
He swallowed, remembering the sight of Genedel in battle. 'No, no I suppose not. Why do they come down here then?'
'They have their reasons. Some to pick over the bones of my prey, others to escape the dangers of the city. Your breed does not welcome others to its city, and of late I have sensed even daemons walking the Land.'
Isak nodded. 'It's not been a lot of fun for anyone up there.'
'Yet you appear to have thrived. Why have you come down here, young lord?'
Isak hesitated. He was growing increasingly nervous of the fact that he still couldn't see the dragon anywhere. Since it was speaking directly into his mind the only source of echoes were his voice and whatever carrion-eaters were lurking in the dark.
'You had an agreement with Lord Bahl, one that appeared to benefit both the Farlan and yourself.'
'And you come to negotiate?' The edge of hostility in Genedel's tone suddenly magnified. 'Bearing weapons that have killed Qods, you come to my cavern to strike a bargain?'
'I- No! No, that wasn't the reason!' Isak blurted out in protest. He looked down. While he wasn't wearing Siulents, Eolis was buckled to his hip as always and fused around the guard was a Crystal Skull. 'Gods, I didn't even-'
'Those objects have been used to kill and enslave my kind over the millennia,' the dragon snarled, causing Isak to wince and clutch his head. The darkness above him suddenly changed into a swift flowing movement. Isak retreated a pace as the silent swirl of dark curved back on itself and a huge horned head appeared barely two yards away from his own.
'They are not welcome here, and neither are you,' Genedel growled. 'Leave now or negotiations shall be
