is one step closer to his resurrection.’ Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice became quiet and fearful. ‘He’s so angry, Flen. I felt his rage. Right now he is still weak, only a shadow of his former self, impotent; but his hate burns so brightly. He will dominate this land, and he will dominate all the lands. And when enough of the witchstones have been awoken, he will return, and wreak his vengeance.’
Flen did not have a response to that. The bloody light of Nuki’s eye seemed infernal, bathing the valley in dread.
‘Already his power works against Enyu and her children, the gods and goddesses of natural things,’ Lucia continued. ‘His very existence poisons the land, twists the animals and the people who eat of its crops. If he wins here, he will take the battle to the Golden Realm, against the gods themselves. That is why we have to stop him. For if the Weavers and the witchstones are not destroyed now, they will engulf the world like a shroud. And that will only be the beginning.’
A single tear slid from her eye and coursed down her cheek. ‘It is a new war of the gods, played out here in Saramyr. And all of Creation is at stake.’
TWENTY-FOUR
Over Zila, grey clouds blanketed the sky, turning midday into a muted, steely glower. A horseman in Blood Vinaxis livery rode from the massive south gate of the town, down the hill towards where the lines of troops waited, overlooked by tall siege engines. Behind him, the gate boomed shut.
Xejen watched him go from the window of his chamber at the top of the keep, hands clasped behind his back, drumming his fingertips nervously on his knuckles. When the rider was out of sight, he swung around to where Bakkara stood scratching his jaw. Mishani reclined on a settee against one wall, her hair spilling over her shoulder, her eyes revealing nothing.
‘What do you think?’ Xejen asked them.
Bakkara shrugged. ‘What difference does it make? They’re going to attack us anyway, whether we give them a “gesture of good faith” or not. They just don’t want the embarrassment of dealing with a bunch of minor noble families who’ll be angry if their sons and daughters get killed during the liberation.’
‘Liberation?’ Xejen said, with a high laugh. ‘Spirits, you talk like you’re on their side.’
‘They’ll call it a liberation if they win,’ he said equably. ‘Besides, what’s the choice? We can hardly send them out any hostages. The mob had them when we took this town.’
‘That news will not win you any friends,’ Mishani pointed out.
‘So we just refuse, then,’ Xejen concluded, snapping his fingers at the air. ‘Let them believe we have the hostages. As you say, they’ll attack us anyway, sooner or later. But I have faith in Zila’s walls, unlike you.’ He finished with a sharp look at the grizzled soldier.
‘I would not advise that,’ Mishani said. ‘A flat refusal will make them think you are stubborn and unwilling to parlay. Next time, they will not trouble themselves. And you may need to fall back on negotiation if things do not go according to your plan.’
Bakkara suppressed a smile. For such a small and dainty thing, she was remarkably self-assured. It was evidence of her skill at politics that she had, over the last few days, installed herself as Xejen’s primary adviser while still never giving him a straight answer as to whether she would declare her support for the Ais Maraxa or not. Xejen was pathetically eager for her help, for Bakkara’s help, for anyone who was more decisive than he was. In matters concerning Lucia, his mind was sharp and clear and inflexible; but now he had won himself a town, he appeared increasingly unsure of what to do with it. He may have been a powerful motivator, but he knew nothing of military matters, and left most of it to Bakkara, whom he had declared his second-in-command in Zila after the revolt.
‘What would you do, then, Mistress Mishani?’ Bakkara asked with exaggerated reverence. She ignored the tone.
‘Send them Chien,’ she said.
Bakkara barked a laugh in surprise, then shut his mouth. Xejen glared at him.
‘Is there some joke I’m missing?’ he asked.
‘Apologies,’ Bakkara said wryly. ‘I’m merely touched by the noble sacrifice Mistress Mishani is making. She could have pleaded her own case, after all.’
Mishani gazed evenly at Xejen, disregarding the soldier’s jibe. She had no intention of pleading her own case. If she went out there,