'My destiny is calling?' Isak said. 'There are quite a few opinions about my destiny, and none of them agree.'

'Your opinion is the only one that matters,' the witch said. 'You have broken away from whatever plan any God or daemon had for you, and now all that remains is to find out whether you have the strength to accept the burden of your remarkable abilities.'

Isak looked away from her, silent.

'And your hand?' she asked.

Isak instinctively glanced down, sliding the hand slightly into his sleeve. 'The side-effect of a spell,' he muttered. 'I hadn't realised there would be a price.'

The witch raised her eyebrows. 'There is a price to everything; even in the unnatural world, as any mage will tell you. The only question is what that price is, and for whom it is worth paying that price.'

'You want me to judge people's worth?' Isak asked in surprise.

'Absolutely not; help those you can and leave judgment to the Gods.'

And that's why you called me here,' Isak guessed.

The witch nodded. 'I have felt a shadow over the Land, a shadow that gathers over a city to your south.' She saw a bank of wind roll over the wheat behind Isak, as though her words had caused a shiver in Xeliath's mind. They felt nothing, though. The breeze itself passed as if it did not exist.

'Scree?' Isak said, surprised. 'That's where Emin – the King of Narkang – has gone.'

'How do you know that?' Xeliath demanded, breaking her silence. She walked back to Isak's side and took his hand in hers.

The witch watched, thinking for a moment that the girl really was afraid, but as Xeliath ran her fingers down the inside of Isak's massive palm it was clear that she was just making the most of her restored senses.

'One of his agents told me,' Isak admitted. 'I think Emin wanted me to hold off a full-scale assault until he's found whatever he's hunting there.'

'Do not march your army into Scree at all; there is a scent of mad¬ness and pain hanging over that city. Invasion would only worsen it. The shadow hanging over the city-'

'Shadow?' Isak interrupted sharply. 'What sort of shadow?'

'I know only that I sense a darkness there.' The witch frowned. 'Does it mean anything to you?'

Isak looked uncomfortable as both women looked at him. After a moment he admitted, 'It's probably nothing, but- Well, I'm sure there's been a shadow watching me in the past. And King Emin is preparing to wage war against some shadow-daemon he calls Azaer. Do you recognise the name?'

They both shook their heads. The witch had heard little enough of Azaer, and if the boy already considered the shadow an enemy, there was nothing more for her to tell him.

'Maybe the shadow is watching me, especially since I was sent to Narkang to forge links between our two nations.' He stopped and leaned closer to Xeliath. The girl was not the only one to find comfort in their contact, it appeared.

'What would you have me do?' he asked eventually. 'Going to Narkang with only a bodyguard when I was Krann was one thing, but I'm the Lord of the Farlan now. King Emin might be able to manage

t hat, but I'm a little more conspicuous. You might need to find some¬

one else to fight your battles this time – or maybe go yourself.'

'I am.' That tripped the great lump, the witch thought with a twitch of satisfaction.

'You're going to Scree? Alone?'

'Not entirely. I have a travelling companion. He is also somewhat conspicuous, but the journey is long and I will need a guardian.'

Isak shifted his feet, keeping eye contact, as if he could see some extra truth in her eyes.

The witch saw he was curious, both about her companion, and about what exactly was going on in Scree. She let the questions bubble in his head, then pressed her point. 'The shadow over Scree brings a convergence. It draws King Emin in, as it has Siala, and I fear many others.' And if 1 had any choice you would be kept far away from that place, but I think it's gone too far, she thought to herself. It may be that our only chance to stop it is to meet power with power. If that doesn't work, we must hope that at least it will make you understand the gravity of the situation.

'What is it that you fear?' Isak said softly.

The witch hesitated. 'They are men and women of power in Scree, these mercenaries, mages, lords and warriors. The White Circle will have no choice but to recruit mercenaries to protect the city, unnatural mercenaries, like those that call themselves Raylin, after a long-dead Elven warrior cult. The name flatters them, but they are monstrously powerful warriors, with all manner of magical abilities, and they're innately drawn to violence. If they are left to run unchecked, they will fuel the destruction.'

'People like you and your travelling companion?' Isak gave a rather forced smile. 'Men like me? Is the only difference the fact that I have a title and the mark of a God on my soul?'

'I hope the difference is greater than that. These people are savage and brutal – if you were truly one of them, you would be a plague upon the Land.'

'And have you appointed yourself the Land's protector?'

The witch froze. How dare this swaggering pup accuse me of that? Her mother had cried the day she told her she was to learn witchcraft. It had sounded exciting then, but years later, the witch understood why her mother had whispered, 'I'm sorry it must be so, but a witch is needed here, and a witch there shall be.'

She bit her lip. One hot temper was bad enough, and she had two to contend with here. 'Take care how you insult those who would be your allies,' the witch warned. 'You are not the only one appointed to a role in this life, so be thankful you at least are well rewarded.' She lifted her shirt, exposing her belly and a mess of scar tissue. 'This is my reward for doing what must be done. This scar was from a colprys; its claws opened me up as I killed it. I had to sew myself back together while lying on the forest floor with scavengers sniffing all around.'

She remembered the weight of the colprys, the talons puncturing her gut. In the forest twilight its rough grey skin had been hard to distinguish; only the hisses and snorts and the tremble of the branches as it moved from tree to tree gave it away. It had so nearly not been enough. The witch shivered. 'Have you ever stitched yourself together, my Lord? It is far from pleasant. I was not asked to drive the colprys away from that village, because they knew I would not need asking. It is the path I have accepted for this life.'

The massive white-eye dropped his eyes. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I can't help feeling like, whatever I do, I'm being forced, guided down paths for someone else's gain. It makes it hard to take any sort of advice at face value.' He looked stricken for a moment. 'I really am sorry.'

'You have good reason to feel that way,' the witch said, laying a hand on his arm. 'There were powers planning your birth long in advance. The seeds were planted during the Great War.' Her anger had subsided; a lifetime of control was not so easily lost, and Isak's face showed true contrition. He hadn't been brought up to understand responsibility, the witch reminded herself. This had been thrust upon him, less than a year ago, and now the entire Land looked to him with both expectation and apprehension.

'Seeds?'

'The noble warriors you have as your aides might not have men¬tioned it, but most wars resolve little, and the Great War was no exception. The hatred does not die, and the original causes are often refuelled by the pain and suffering inflicted on both sides. The enmi¬ties endure, and all look to the day their chance comes again.'

The witch reached out to take Isak's white hand in her own. 'Before your final rest you will walk many paths of the dead. The aftermath of such conflicts requires this, for there is no easy way to lay those ghosts to rest. Our lives are like paths in a forest, choices made at each fork, and sometimes they will lead you to clearings bathed in sunlight, sometimes into shadow. Your path has been walked before, by all those whose mistakes and failures set the course of your life, whose weaknesses have unbalanced the Land.'