‘It must come from Mance-Jolune, your highness. We killed one, one escaped. The guards are searching for it now.’

  ‘Find it, Idris. Now, all of you, leave me.’

  Idris and the others hurriedly left the room. As the door closed behind them Idris saw a glimpse of the Emperor kneeling by the body of his wife.

  It was late.

  ‘You have failed to find it.’ Salamah stated slowly.

  ‘We are still looking, your Imperial Majesty, in the mean time, everyone is on guard-’

  ‘So I do not lose more of my family.’

  ‘...yes, your Majesty.’

  ‘Father!’

  Idris turned as Amiri strode in, a smug smile on his face. ‘I have news!’

  ‘Amiri? What is it?’

  ‘My people have found the spider. Here!’ and he flung a bag to the ground. An arachnid leg peeked out. ‘I have killed it!’

  ‘How did your people find it?’ Idris asked. He hadn’t had time to see a sorcerer. Amiri’s loud voice sent his skull to pounding again. There was blood in his hair but he hadn’t had time to clean it. His whole body ached and it hurt to breathe.

  ‘I had the shadow mages and candles look for it. They could sense it!’

  ‘But that means... that creature must have had shadow magic!’ Idris hid his relief carefully, then it is your fault, Amiri, not mine!

  ‘Amiri.’ Salamah scolded, ‘your pleasure is unbecoming.’

  ‘Father, the creature is dead!’

  ‘And so is your mother and three of your sisters!’

  ‘Oh,’ Amiri’s smile faded, ‘of course I am very-’

  He was cut off as Salamah rose from his couch and slapped him. ‘You come in here, gloating, while four of our beloved are dead! Begone from my sight, Amiri!’

  Amiri hurried from the room. Idris bowed low and made his escape. The Emperor let him go.

  Idris hurried back to his room. He thought briefly of Amiri and wondered what would happen to him. Nothing probably, though the Emperor would remember this for a long time. Salamah will not surrender, not after this. He will use his own shadow mages to strike back. If the Manunian shadow mages thought this would end the war... it will only escalate from here.

  CHAPTER 81

  30 Jevin, 1353

  Jacques looked up at the sound of booted feet. Across the corridor, in the cell opposite his, Jacques saw Alexandre do the same. For three days they’d been down here. He’d heard no word of Guy, of the war, of Duke Dashiell and the situation in Belcanon, of Silvain’s health...

  Nothing.

  That more than the rats, the food, the cold, the smell, was driving him mad.

  ‘Jacques, is this a new office?’ a familiar, flat, voice called.

  Jacques rushed to the bars to see King Theuder, Lord Gethin, and two guards holding Guy.

  ‘Let go, I need to sit down.’

  Guy’s strange voice echoed weirdly in the dungeon.

  ‘Guy, where have you been?’ Jacques asked.

  ‘Doing what you told me too. Haven’t you heard about the city up on that mountain? Let me sit down, I need to sit down to use my shadow magic.’

  ‘Your Majesty, please, the shadow mage prefers to be close to the ground. It’s safer for him.’ Jacques said. ‘What happened to Iskerashdo?’

  ‘Do it.’ King Theuder said, ‘I care not if he wishes to lie on the dungeon floor.’

  Nobody answered Jacques’ question. As soon as the men let go of Guy he sank to the floor and closed his eyes. ‘Jacques, I have a lot of things going on. You better make this quick.’

  ‘You do not take orders from Jacques Dulère, shadow mage. I am the King of Mance.’

  Guy let out a sigh. Clearly this display of earthly problems was too much for the shadow mage to process.

  ‘Your highness, it may be easier for him to understand if you let me give him orders?’

  ‘Shadow mage,’ Theuder said, ignoring Jacques, ‘you are to look into the heart of Prince Alexandre. Tell me whether he took part in the attempt on my son’s life.’

  ‘Is this particularly relevant to ending the war?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Blaise is gone, there is only Linette and me. We have a lot of things to do while we can still hang on to this world. Is this a personal matter, or something important?’

  ‘I am the King of Mance!’

  Jacques stared at Guy’s prone form in the flickering torchlight. Despite what Guy’s refusal to cooperate might mean for him, he was intensely curious. What had they been up to?

  ‘Your Majesty, if I may make a suggestion?’ Lord Gethin spoke.

  ‘What is it?!’

  ‘Shadow mages, particularly practicing ones, are difficult to speak to. They have difficulty focussing on spoken conversation. Let Dulère speak to him.’

  Jacques felt a moment of relief for Lord Gethin, who was proving to be an eminently reasonable man.

  ‘Guy,’ Alexandre spoke up, ‘are you saying Blaise is dead?’

  ‘My friend is dead and gone. It has been too long. We must finish his plans, and let... let what remains know before even that fades...’

  ‘What remains?’

  ‘A fading wish... that is all that is left of my friend. I blame all of you.’ There was still no emotion in Guy’s flat voice, and for that, Jacques was glad. It’s been twenty days... that’s too long for anyone... He couldn’t shake from his mind the image of the young boy. Only fourteen.

  ‘He is my subject. He exists only for my purpose.’ Theuder said. ‘Dulère, make this creature understand.’

  Jacques opened his mouth to speak when Lord Gethin said, his voice tense, ‘he is gone.’

  ‘Gone?’

  ‘The shadow mage has left his body.’

  Jacques would have been amused at the look on Theuder’s face if this didn’t mean he might very well be executed for taking part in the plot against Silvain.

  ‘He left?!’

  ‘I think you upset him.’ Alexandre said, his voice heavy. ‘You forget, your Majesty, he counted Blaise Autin as his friend. He didn’t want to help you.’

  Alexandre leant against the greasy iron bars, gripping them tightly in his dirty hands. If Theuder was affected by the change three days in the dungeon had wrought on his son he did not show it.

  ‘And not you either.’ Theuder said. ‘Not you either, Alexandre.’ He turned and stalked away. ‘Bring the shadow mage, we will do this again when he awakes. And next time, Lord Gethin, make sure he does not leave his body without my say so.’

  ‘As you wish, your Majesty.’

  ‘Wait!’ Alexandre called. ‘Tell me, what is the situation in Belcanon?’

  Theuder halted. He slowly turned around. ‘You ask after Belcanon, not your brother?’

  ‘According to you, King Theuder, he is not my brother. And I am quite sure if there was any news you would have gloated about it.’ his voice was cold. ‘So I ask about Belcanon, and Duke Dashiell.’

  ‘He is at least your half-brother.’ The King’s voice was strained.

  ‘That does not seem to matter to you, your Majesty, so why should it matter to me? I asked about Belcanon. Have you seen reason, or are you laying the foundation for a civil war?’

  Jacques drank in the confrontation thirstily. He’d had nothing to occupy his mind but his own thoughts, going round and round in circles, for three days. That and understanding for the first time hunger, thirst, cold. There was nothing in his cell but dirt. Nothing. Manus was gripped in the coldest winter in years and he had nothing to keep him warm except what he’d worn when taken from his office. His body ached from shivering.

  ‘Dashiell refuses to unblock the Drosgl Pass until his niece’s husband is returned.’

  ‘Why? Does he think you had something to do with his disappearance?’

  Dashiell was going to find out sometime, but... I did not think he would suspect the King! Jacques thought in alarm.

  ‘He does not. He is simply displeased that he was taken away from his wife, which apparently puts her in unacceptable danger.’

  It must be too much, Jacques thought, insulting Emerré and his family directly, in front of too many people. He must realise his niece will die if he does not return, and of course Cadel only left to fight because we threatened Emerré... Dashiell is not fond of her, but that is not relevant... refusing to unblock the pass? He must have only just learnt of Cadel’s disappearance! That must have been the final straw... Jacques felt sick at the thought.

  ‘The situation can be rectified, your Majesty.’

  ‘Indeed, with an apology!’

  ‘Did he say this?’

  ‘Dash had the gall to write me a letter to that effect!’

  So the situation is still private! Jacques thought in relief. It is not nearly so bad as it seems!

  ‘Surely-!’

  ‘I am not the fool you seem to think I am, Alexandre. I will think on it. I do not, and have never, needed your advice.’

  CHAPTER 82

  30 Jevin, 1353

  Kurak, the town at the edge of Faro Desert, was busy. People were moving in and out of it all the time, providing supplies to the desert fortress of Arcos. Dorian, Julietta and Asmara had to keep their faces covered. With the icy winds blowing off the Faro Desert and the blinding sun reflecting off the snow-covered plain most people covered themselves up, obscuring their faces and hands.

  Kurak straddled the road at the border between the desert and the low mountains that surrounded it. The paved and inscribed road cut through the mountains by way of a natural valley, unlike the magically-engineered Drosgl pass in Belcanon. The stone buildings of Kurak clung to the side of the mountain, as if trying to hide from the frigid winds of the desert. The steep rooved houses were covered with a light dusting of snow. The roads were kept clear in the town, and the sides of the street were piled with humps of snow. The desert stretched out as a vast white plain, nearly too bright to look at. The air was so clear that Arcos was easily visible, a dark expanse rising above the desert, though it was a three days journey away.

  ‘It’s so cold...’ Julietta shivered, eying the expanse of snow in trepidation.

  ‘I don’t know what I was thinking,’ Dorian murmured, ‘I hear desert and I think hot.’

  ‘No, it’s a c-cold desert, it’s just... very dry.’

  ‘You would think there’d be less snow then.’

  ‘Winter is when they get the most... precipitation.’

  ‘That’s inconvenient. Oh well, it’s not as cold as Belcanon, or Walmon. It’s really not much colder than Sontmor in winter.’

  Julietta shot Dorian a dark look. That didn’t help her right now!

  Bo did all of the talking with the locals. There was frequent movement between the town and Arcos, so it seemed the journey would not be difficult. When Bo pointed it out, Julietta could see the dark trail through the snow that marked the road the supply trains took on the journey across to Arcos. Seeing how cold they were getting standing around listening to him talk, he dropped them off at an inn and went back out alone. Julietta couldn’t complain. Inside the inn she stripped off her layers of winter clothes and relaxed by the fire, heat seeping back into her bones.

  ‘You really don’t like the cold, do you Julietta?’ Dorian said as he came to sit by her, a bowl of soup in hand.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ she asked, eying the steaming bowl hungrily.

  ‘This is for you, actually, the lady is bringing more over. I already gave Asmara hers. Say thank you.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Julietta said eagerly, immediately digging into the soup.

  As he’d said, one of the maids at the inn brought Dorian a bowl of soup. While they ate, they watched Asmara.

  ‘How come she’s over there?’ Julietta asked finally. Asmara was sitting by the window, a few tables over. The glass was frosted with ice and it was hard to see outside.

  ‘She said the fire’s too hot.’

  Julietta noticed Asmara wasn’t very talkative. It almost felt like she was trying to avoid their company.

  ‘Julietta... do you think...’ Dorian began. ‘Is she...ok?’

  Julietta turned that over in her mind carefully. Now that she’d met other shadow mages, she wondered. In fact, she wondered if Asmara had ever been ok. She was always so... energetic around other people but... when I see her on her own... It’s as if she turns on a switch, no emotion when she’s alone, and too much when others are around. The other shadow mages didn’t behave like that. It seemed an entirely different issue.

  Dorian looked from Asmara back to Julietta, his eyes widening. ‘You think somethings wrong?’

  The fire crackled merrily beside them, in stark contrast to their mood.

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve been wrong about... so many things... she’s probably fine. If she’s not, I don’t know what it is.’

  ‘She’s been through so much lately. I thought maybe...’ Perhaps she has changed her mind about me, Dorian thought. It was an unpleasant idea.

  Julietta nodded her agreement, unaware of Dorian’s concerns, and scraped the last smear of soup from the bowl. It was very tasty, creamy and spicy and with chunks of strange vegetables swimming in it.

  They talked no more about it as Bo arrived in a flurry of loud Lakashan and snow.

  ‘All warmed up?’ he said in Manunian as he arrived at Dorian and Julietta’s table, a bowl of soup in hand. ‘Come and join us, Asme!’

  Asmara looked up and immediately a wide smile unfurled on her face. She got up and strode over. Despite Dorian’s concerns, it was a relief to see Asmara walking normally.

  After finishing half his soup, Bo turned to business. ‘There’s a lot of travel to Arcos, but entry into the fortress is tightly controlled.’

  ‘So, we might be able to get there, but...’ Dorian said.

  ‘On this side the security isn’t so tight. Unfortunately, we don’t know much about the situation in Arcos. It makes it difficult to plan.’

  ‘Just wait.’ Asmara said quietly and looked away. ‘If this is Linette and the other’s plan they’ll arrange something for us.’

  ‘There aren’t many candles over here.’ Bo said. ‘Arcos will be a different matter. We need to consider the shadow mages simply might not be able to tell us about Arcos. We can wait for a while. How long, do you think?’

  ‘If we’re waiting too long I imagine Linette could come and tell us.’ Julietta murmured.

  ‘True, true.’ he said. ‘Alright. I’ll keep gathering information about Arcos. The more we know the better.’

  CHAPTER 83

  1 Jorlaff, 1353

  Idris had a busy day ahead of him. It was a day that boggled belief. Four members of the Imperial Family were dead, and he’d barely escaped with his skin. I can make no more mistakes. Salamah will not accept any more mistakes. He felt a small measure of relief that some plots he’d been working on had paid out. Today would be a good day to tell the Emperor that the Crown Prince of Mance-Jolune was in prison for trying to kill his brother. That should improve his mood, it certainly improved mine when I heard! How amusing! Whether it will prove helpful or not still remains to be seen. But first... it was time to send Elira away from Iskerashdo. She didn’t need to go to her family’s home, she could go wherever she wanted, so long as it was away from here.

  Idris went to her room and knocked on her door. He waited a few moments before entering. She wasn’t there. Annoyed, he summoned a servant and sent them to find her. He needed to find her, but he didn’t have all day to look for her.

  He headed to the library to speak to Yasir. He would get some work done while he waited for Elira to be found. He had only just made it to the library when the servant raced back, saying Elira was in the garden speaking with Prince Amiri.

  Surprised, Idris immediately set off to find her. Ten minutes later he arrived at the gardens and saw her sitting talking to Amiri on a bench. Why on earth would the prince be talking to Elira?

  ‘Idris!’ Amiri looked up and saw him. ‘Come over here!’

  ‘Prince Amiri,’ Idris bowed, a frown on his face. His eyes were fixed on Elira, but she did not look at him.

  ‘Elira has been telling me about you.’

  ‘She has?’

  ‘Things I never even imagined! I didn’t know she-!’ Amiri’s voice broke off in a strangled scream.

  ‘ELIRA!’ Idris grabbed her and dragged her away from Amiri. ‘Fetch a mage!’ he yelled.

  Idris stared at the bleeding Amiri in shock. He was still upright on the bench, though he sagged dangerously as if he might fall. The prince put a hand to his chest where a jewelled, decorative lady’s knife was plunged into his breast. Why? Why?!

  People were running.

  ‘If he dies...’ he murmured, hardly aware he was speaking. ‘If he dies... Elira... why?!’

  ‘Idris?’ Amiri said, his voice weak.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Amiri. It’s a... it’s a tiny knife.’

  A mage arrived. He let out a frightened squawk at the state of the prince and immediately leapt to his side.

  ‘Make sure he lives!’ Idris ordered heatedly, ‘make sure he lives!’

  Idris stood before the emperor, his hands trembling.

  ‘Your Majesty...’

  ‘My son will live.’ Salamah said, his tone grave. Idris noticed there were new lines around his eyes. ‘My son will live.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty, the shadow mages failed.’

  ‘You blame this on the shadow mages?’

  ‘I do not believe Elira Mer Kouri has ever spoken to Amiri, Prince Amiri, before today. Your Majesty, even if she held a grudge against him for something she would not attack him in broad daylight in the Imperial Palace!’

  ‘You are right.’ he sighed. ‘This magic... it is a truly... truly awful thing...’

  Idris had escorted Elira to the cell. She had been white with shock, trembling like a leaf in the wind. He remembered too clearly the way she’d looked at him, helpless, afraid, and called his name. Just that one word, ‘Idris?’