'My Lord,' said someone, Cardinal Veck, he guessed from Tila's de¬scription, 'in deference to our High Cardinal's frail state of health, it has been agreed that I speak in his place. Do you object to this change of protocol? Would you request another in my place?'

The cardinals wore robes of white and midnight blue, edged in scarlet. They reminded Isak of the Knights of the Temples, but he told himself not to get hostile – there would be time for that later.

Isak nodded his agreement and looked around. There was one wall of long thin windows, but half a dozen torches burned brightly to aid the aged priests' failing sight. The walls were decorated with the flags of each of the Gods represented by the Synod. The two largest, Death's golden bee on a fresh white field and the coils of Nartis' black snake, outlined in white thread, on a deep blue background, hung opposite Isak.

These images, the two banners fluttering side by side atop temples and city gates throughout FarIan lands, were etched into Isak's mind. For a moment he ignored the Synod members squinting up at him and stared at the flags, thinking of the power represented, and ehe

thrall in which they held mankind. Back in Narkang on the bloodied floor of the jousting arena, religion hud suddenly become something more not polished artefacts on holy altars, not the sombre drone oi voices as incense Idled the air. Instead, a primal force had suffused him, raw and savage power setting every nerve on fire. He'd been connected to the ground beneath him, even as the torrent of energy had borne him up into the glittering surge of spring air. That was the (!od he knew, the God that had claimed him without thought or care lor the consequences.

These priests are nothing, whispered a voice in the back of Isak's head. They care only for worldly matters. Only the white-eye could survive the barest touch of his master. They know nothing of Gods. Such power never flowed through their veins, never shook their bones. Kill them. Even together they could not truly oppose you.

Quiet, spirit, Isak commanded. This is not your business.

You let yourself be commanded by a maid. You tie yourself close to the games of the Gods. Each ceremony and tradition is a string to bind you, each prayer a piece of your soul you offer-

/ said, enough! Your babbling bores me. Every word of sense you speak is twisted; 1 will not be a despot so I must listen to these people.

What difference to the slaves in the field you might send to death on a whim?

Perhaps none, but for me there is. Now be quiet.

'Lord Isak,' Cardinal Veck continued hesitantly, looking somewhat puzzled by Isak's vacant expression, 'you come before us to claim hon¬our beyond that of kings?'

Isak bowed.

'Before a man can be placed above kings, he must look up to the heavens and know his own place. Sit now, without threat or pride.'

Isak unbuckled his swordbelt, letting it fall to the floor for Jachen to sweep up, then approached the table and eased himself onto the stool that had placed ready for him. The Synod members sat in ornately carved chairs, but Isak must sit before them in humility.

'Now, in the presence of the Gods here represented, and the tribe of the Farlan, state your claim.'

Isak waited a moment, trying to gauge how loud he should speak, then began, 'I claim the title of Lord of all Farlan. I claim acknow¬ledgement of the Synod that I am Chosen of Nartis and worthy of this title; His Will done by my hand,His Majesty upheld by my deals.'

'High Priest of Nartis, called Cardinal Veck, On his left, Voss Aftal

flinched.Do you accept this man's claim to Nartis' favour and blessing?

Most ol the Synod looked keenly interested in the proceedings; Altal appeared to be as frightened as the High Priest of Larat. He tried to clear his throat and gave a strangled splutter. 'I- Yes,' he managed finally. 'He has been touched by the storm and emerged from its light marked as a brother. The Cult of Nartis so accepts Isak, Duke ol Tirah, as Chosen of Nartis and first among His Blessed.'

'Then the claim is acknowledged as valid,' intoned Cardinal Veck, looking for all the world like he was enjoying himself.

Isak glanced down the line of faces. There were three women on the Synod. The High Priestess of Amavoq was staring so fiercely at him that Isak began to wonder if he'd done anything to offend her.

/ lave 1 even met her before? 1 don't remember it. Isak suddenly smiled as he realised the old woman's eyesight was failing and she was squint¬ing, trying to bring him into focus. And you suspected the worst. You're a fool. Reasons behind every deed, enemies in every shadow.

Enemies in the shadows! shrieked Aryn Bwr unexpectedly. 'Ware the shadows, their eyes and claws! 'Ware the terrible webs they weave!

Isak ignored the voice.

'High Chaplain Mochyd,' the High Cardinal called next, turning to his right and looking to the furthest seat. 'To be Lord of the Farlan, a warrior is needed to keep us strong. Will you follow this man into battle?'

'I will,' came the gruff reply. 'He has led our armies and rained righteous fire upon the enemies of our tribe. I will follow him.'

Like most chaplains, Mochyd had been a tall man, and powerful. Time and hard living had aged him, not the magic that had so drained the high priests. Though white-haired and wrinkled, yet there was strength and will in those old bones, Isak thought, and that couldn't be said for the men of magic on the Synod. He could see why Lord Bahl's circle of friends had included a number of chaplains. They tended to be fiercely loyal, so devoted to their calling that it became the essence of their being. They were men Bahl understood.

'Corlyn,' called the cardinal next, 'to be Lord of the Farlan, a man of piety is needed. Do you trust this man to be an example to the people?'

The old man with gentle eyes on Veck's far left gave Isak a benevo¬lent smile, and said calmly, 'I do.'

That was it; the Corlyn said nothing more. Isak tried not to smile at the thought of him as a spiritual leader – he'd only remembered to visit the Temple of Nartis after returning to Tirah because Lesarl had reminded him. A less suitable choice he couldn't imagine.

And yet… And yet, strangely, he couldn't tear his eyes from the Corlyn's silent smile. The head of the Cult's pastoral branch, a man he'd never met, wasn't asking for anything. Tila had said the Corlyn would support Isak simply because he had no personal agenda to push, and he liked to annoy those members of the Synod who disdained him for exactly that reason. He was, in truth, a simple man of his God, wanting only to guide the people in their faith and rejecting the power that becoming high priest offered.

A hand to guide him on the right path. If one old man still had enough faith left to trust a feckless youth with this, why couldn't he be right? Isak was pondering this when a curious, unpleasantly smug smile crossed Cardinal Veck's lips. Isak's instincts kicked into action as he felt his heart quicken. He catalogued every detail of the cardinal's appearance: the neat clipped beard, the rings on his fingers, a pair of diamonds set in gold, a fat silver band engraved with the badge of the cardinal branch, and a firegem surrounded by sapphires. The cardinal was moistening his lips and twitching his thin eyebrows, the only remaining trace of the dark colouring of his youth. Even the long hair protruding from a mole on his right cheek was white.

'Well, my Lord. We have had assurances of your strength and moral virtue. Now it just falls to us to determine whether you will be a good ruler as well as a good man. The requirements of office go beyond the strength of a leader's arm.'

Isak matched the cardinal's gaze impassively. Veck's words were a departure from the ritual, but he had expected nothing less. A rumble of disapproval sounded from the direction of the High Chaplain, but neither man paid him any attention, both refusing to be the one to look away first.