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This camp, this war-this desert- all had conspired to ease the sha Yet one day, Heboric knew, he would have to return to that dreaded wasteland froiant waited Return But to what end ?

He had always believed that Fener had taken his severed hands into keeping, to await the harsh justice that was the Tusked One’s right A fate that Heboric had accepted, as best he could But it seele once-priest could coed from his realm, left abandoned and trapped on this world Heboric’s severed hands had found a new master, a master possessed of such immense power that it could ith otataral itself Yet it did not belong The giant of jade, Heboric now believed, was an intruder, sent here from another realm for so that purpose, someone had i that its narcotic would prove sufficient to deaden the sleep to co inured to its effects

The face of stone beckoned

The face that was trying to speak

There was a scratching at the tent flap, then it was pulled aside

Felisin entered ‘Ah, still awake Good, that will make this easier My mother wants you’

‘Now?’

‘Yes There have been events in the world beyond Consequences to be discussed Mother seeks your wisdolance at the clay cup of stea tea in his invisible hands It was little more than flavoured water when cold ‘I am uninterested in events in the world beyond If she seeks ords froued,’ Felisin Younger said, an alint in her eyes ‘Sha’ik insists’

She helped hiht as a capeht was bitter cold, tasting of settling dust They set out along the twisting alleyways between the yurts, walking in silence

They passed the raised dais where Sha’ik Reborn had first addressed the e, multi-chauards as such, for the goddess’s presence was palpable, a pressure in the chill air

There was little warmth in the first room beyond the tent flap, but with each successive curtain that they parted and stepped through, the te cha little in the way of distinguishing one from another An assassin who proceeded this far, soet lost The approach to where Sha’ik resided followed its own torturous, winding route Her chambers were not central, not at the heart of the palace as one ht expect

With his poor vision and the endless turns and twists, Heboric was quickly confused; he had never determined the precise location of their destination He was reminded of the escape from the mines, the arduous journey to the island’s west coast-it had been Baudin in the lead, Baudin whose sense of direction had proved unerring, almost uncanny Without him, Heboric and Felisin would have died

A Talon, no less Ah, Tavore, you were not wrong to place your faith in him It was Felisin ould not co-operate You should have anticipated that Well, sister, you should have anticipated a lot of things… But not this

They entered the square, low-ceilinged expanse that the Chosen One- Felisin Elder, child of the House of Paran- had called her Throne Room And indeed there was a dais, once the pedestal for a hearth, on which was a tall-backed chair of sun-bleached wood and padding In councils such as these, Sha’ik invariably positioned herself in that makeshift throne; nor would she leave it while her advisers were present, not even to peruse the yellowed maps the commanders ont to lay out on the hide-covered floor Apart froer, the Chosen One was the smallest person there

Heboric wondered if Sha’ik Elder had suffered similar insecurities He doubted it

The roo the army’s leaders and Sha’ik’s select, only Leoman and Toblakai were absent There were no other chairs, although cushions and pillows rested against the base of three of the four tent walls, and it was on these that the commanders sat Felisin at his side, Heboric made his way to the far side, Sha’ik’s left, and took his place a few short paces fro down beside him

Soht so the air as well Everyone else was in their allotted place, Heboric noted Though they were little ainst the wall opposite the throne sat the half-blood Napan, Korbolo Dom, shaved hairless, his dusty blue skin latticed in scars On his right, the High Mage Karey hair cut short to stubble, a tight-curled iron beard reaching up to prolittered sunken eyes On Korbolo’s left sat Henaras, a witch from some desert tribe that had, for unknown reasons, banished her Sorcery kept her youthful in appearance, the heavy languor in her dark eyes the product of diluted Tralb, a poison drawn froainst assassination Beside her was Fayelle, an obese, perpetually nervous woman of whom Heboric knew little