Vanis had another drink and walked across to the western window. From here he could see the distant palace of the Grey Man across the bay, shining white in the moonlight. Once more he moved out on to the balcony, checking on the guards. A blond crossbowman was sitting on the lower branches of an oak, his eyes trained on the garden wall. Below him two more guards were patrolling, and Vanis saw one of the black hunting dogs padding across the open ground. The merchant moved back inside and sank into a deep leather seat alongside the flask of Lentrian Fire.

Aric had laughed at Vanis's insistence on hiring bodyguards. 'He is a merchant like you, Vanis. You think he would risk himself by hiring killers to hunt you down? If any were captured – and named him – he would lose everything. We'd have his palace and whatever of his fortune rests hidden in the palace vaults. By Heaven, it is almost worth hoping that he does send assassins.'

'Easy for you to say, Aric. Did you hear about his hunting down of the raiders who attacked his lands? Thirty of them, it is said. And he killed them all.'

'Nonsense,' sneered Aric. 'There were around a dozen, and I don't doubt that the Grey Man had most of his guards with him. It is just a lie put about to enhance the Grey Man's reputation.'

'A lie, eh? I suppose it was a lie that he killed Jorna with a single blow to the neck and then slew Parellis with his own sword. As I understand it, he did not even break sweat.'

'Two stupid boys,' said Aric. 'Gods, man, I could have done the same. What possessed you to use such simpletons?'

'It was an error,' said Vanis. 'I thought they were planning to surprise him in the grounds of his palace. I did not expect them to make the attempt at a ball in front of a hundred witnesses!'

'Ah, well, it is over now,' said Aric smoothly. The Grey Man gave in without a struggle. Not even a raised word. Have you thought what you will do with Parla's fifteen thousand?'

'Thirty thousand,' corrected Vanis.

'Minus my commission, of course,' said Aric.

'There are those who might feel that your commission is a little excessive, my friend,' said Vanis, struggling to control his anger.

Aric laughed. 'There are also those who believe that, as chief magistrate of Carlis, I should be investigating what caused those two hitherto exemplary boys to commit such a deed. Are you one of those?'

'You have made your point,' muttered Vanis. 'Fifteen thousand it is.'

Even now, some hours later, the conversation left a bad taste in his mouth.

Vanis finished a third cup of Lentrian Fire, and heaved himself once more to his feet. Moving somewhat unsteadily across the room, he pulled open the door and staggered to his bedchamber. The satin sheets on his bed had been pulled back and Vanis peeled off his robe and slippers and sat down heavily, his head spinning. He fell back on to the pillow and yawned.

A shadowy figure moved to the bedside. 'Your nephews are waiting for you,' said a soft voice.

Three hours after dawn a servant brought a tray of fresh-baked bread and soft cheese to the bedroom of the merchant Vanis. There was no reply to his gentle tapping, and he knocked louder. Thinking his master in a deep sleep the servant returned to the kitchens. Half an hour later he tried again. The door was still locked, and no sound came from inside.

He reported this to the head manservant, who, with a duplicate key, opened the door.

The merchant Vanis was lying back on blood-drenched sheets, his throat cut, a small, curved knife held in his right hand.

Within the hour the chief magistrate, Lord Aric, was at the property, along with the dark-bearded Eldicar Manushan, two officers of the watch and a young surgeon. The magicker ordered the little page-boy, dressed now in a tunic of black velvet, to wait outside the door. 'Not a scene to be witnessed by a child,' Eldicar told him. The boy nodded and stood outside with his back to the wall.

'It seems fairly obvious,' said the surgeon, stepping back from the body. 'He cut his own throat and died within a few heartbeats. The knife, as you can see, is very sharp. There is only the one cut – a deep slash that opened the jugular.'

'Strange that he removed his robe first, don't you think?' offered Eldicar Manushan, pointing to the garment on the floor by the bed.

'Why strange?' asked Aric. 'He was getting into bed.'

'To die,' said the magicker. 'Not to sleep. This means he knew his body would be found. Let us face it, gentlemen, Vanis was not a handsome man. Bald, monstrously fat and ugly would be an accurate description. Yet he disrobes, sits down upon white satin sheets and ensures he will be found in the most disgusting of positions. One would have thought he would have left his clothes on. A second thought concerns the wound itself. Very messy and painful. It takes a man of great courage to open his throat. Just as effective would be to open the arteries at the wrist.'

'Yes, yes, yes,' said the surgeon. 'This is all very interesting. But what we have here is a man dead in a locked bedroom, the instrument of his demise in his hand. We will never know what was going on in his mind at the time of his death. I understand his beloved nephews were killed only days ago. His brain was obviously unhinged by grief.'

Eldicar Manushan laughed, the sound horribly contrasting to the bloody scene within the room. 'Unhinged? Indeed he must have been. For he was so frightened of the thought of being killed he surrounded his house with guards and dogs. Then, once he was safe, he cut his throat. I would agree that sounds unhinged.'

'You believe he was murdered, sir?' asked the young surgeon, icily.

The magicker walked to the window and gazed down at the grounds below the balcony. He swung back. 'If he was murdered, young man, then he would have to have been killed by a man who could move in utter silence through a screen of guards and vicious dogs, scale a wall, commit the deed and depart without being seen or scented.'

'Precisely,' said the surgeon, turning to Lord Aric. 'I shall send for the morgue wagon, my lord, and prepare a report.'

With that the young man bowed to Aric, nodded towards Eldicar Manushan, and left the room.

Aric looked at the grotesque bloated body upon the bed, then swung to the two officers of the watch. 'Go and question the servants and the guards. See if anyone heard or saw anything – no matter how inconsequential it may have seemed at the time.'

The men saluted and walked away. Eldicar Manushan moved from the window and pushed shut the bedroom door. 'Would you like to know what really happened?' he asked softly.

'He killed himself,' whispered Aric. 'No one could have got to him.'

'Let us ask him.'

Eldicar stepped to the bedside and laid his hand upon the dead merchant's brow. 'Hear me,' whispered the magicker. 'Return from the Void and flow once more into this ruined shell. Come back to the world of pain. Come back to the world of light.'

The bloated body spasmed, and a choking, gargling noise came from the throat. The body began to tremble violently. Eldicar thrust his fingers into the man's mouth and dragged out a rolled-up ball of parchment. Hissing breath blew from the dead man's lung, and the remnants of his blood bubbled from the wound in his throat.

'Speak, Vanis,' ordered Eldicar Manushan.

'Grey . . . Man . . .' croaked the corpse. The body sagged back, arms and legs twitching. Eldicar Manushan clapped his hands twice. 'Return to the pit,' he said coldly. All movement ceased.

The magicker glanced at the ashen face of Lord Aric, then lifted the wet ball of parchment he had pulled from the merchant's throat. He opened it and spread it on the bedside table.

'What is it?' whispered Aric, taking a scented handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to his nose.