Pushing his way through the bushes at the side of the track, he traversed the hill until he came to a deer-trail leading down into a deep gulley. He heard the sound of a man's voice.

'Be sensible, woman. We're not going to hurt you. We'll even pay!'

Another voice cut in, harsh and deep. 'Enough talk! Take the bitch!'

Ekodas rounded the final bend and saw the two men, foresters by their garb, standing with knives drawn and facing a young Nadir woman. She also held a knife and was waiting, poised, her back to a rock-face.

'Good evening, friends,' said Ekodas. The first of the men, tall and slim, wearing a green tunic of homespun wool and brown leather leggings and boots, swung towards him. He was a young man, with sandy hair tied in a pony-tail.

'This is no place for a priest,' he said.

Ekodas walked on, halting immediately before the man. 'The forest is a wonderful place for meditation, brother.' He sensed the man's confusion. There was little that was evil in him, but his lusts were aroused and they had clouded his reason. He wanted the woman, and his mind was seething with erotic thoughts and images.

The second man pushed forward. He was shorter and stockier, his eyes small and round. 'Go back where you came from!' he ordered. 'I'll not be turned aside by the likes of you!'

'What you are planning is evil,' said Ekodas softly. 'I cannot permit it. If you continue along this gulley you will find the road to Estri. It is a small village and there is, I understand, a woman there who has a special smile for men with coin.'

'I know where Estri is,' hissed the second man. 'And when I want your pigging advice I'll ask for it. You know what this is?' The knife-blade came up, hovering before Ekodas' face.

'I know what it is, brother. What is your purpose in showing it to me?'

'Are you a halfwit?'

The first man took hold of his friend's arm. 'Leave it, Caan. It doesn't matter.'

'Matters to me. I want that woman.'

'You can't kill a priest!'

'Pigging watch me!' The knife swept up. Ekodas swayed aside, caught the man's wrist and twisted the arm up and back. His foot snaked out, hooking behind the knifeman's knee. The forester fell back. Ekodas released his grip and the man tumbled to the earth.

'I have no wish to cause you pain,' said Ekodas. The man scrambled up and charged. Ekodas brushed aside the knife-arm and sent his elbow crashing into the man's chin. He dropped as if poleaxed. Ekodas turned to the first man. 'Take your friend to Estri,' he advised. 'And once there bid him goodbye. He brings out the worst in you.' Stepping past the man he approached the Nadir woman. 'Greetings, sister. If you will follow me I can take you to lodgings for the night. It is a temple, and the beds are hard, but you will sleep soundly and without fear.'

'I sleep without fear wherever I am,' she said. 'But I will follow you.'

Her eyes were dark and beautiful, her skin both pale and yet touched with gold. Her lips were full, the mouth wide and Ekodas found himself remembering the images in the forester's mind. He reddened and began the long climb.

'You fight well,' she said, drawing alongside him, her knife now sheathed in a goatskin scabbard, a small pack slung across her shoulders.

'Have you travelled far, sister?'

'I am not your sister,' she pointed out.

'All women are my sisters. All men my brothers. I am a Source priest.'

'Your brother down there has a broken jaw.'

'I regret that.'

'I don't. I would have killed him.'

'My name is Ekodas,' he said, offering his hand. She ignored it and walked on ahead.

'I am Shia.' They reached the winding path to the temple and she gazed up at the high stone walls. 'This is a fortress,' she said.

'It was once. Now it is a place of prayer.'

'It is still a fortress.'

The gates were open and Ekodas led her inside. Vishna and several of the other priests were drawing water from the well. Shia stopped and stared at them. 'You have no women for this work?' she asked Ekodas.

'There are no women here. I told you, we are priests.'

'And priests have no women?'

'Exactly so.'

'Only sisters?'

'Yes.'

'Your little tribe won't last long,' she said, with a deep throaty chuckle.

The screams died down and a hoarse, choking death-rattle came from the slave. His arms relaxed, sagging into the chains and his legs spasmed. Zhu Chao slashed the knife into the ribcage, sawing through the arteries of the heart and ripping the organ clear. He carried it to the centre of the circle, stepping carefully over the chalk lines that marked the stones, zig-zagging between the candles and the wires of gold that linked the chalice and the crystal. Laying the heart in the chalice he drew back, placing his feet within the twin circles of Shemak.

The Fourth Grimoire lay open on a bronze lectern and he turned the page and began to read aloud in a language lost to the world of men for a hundred millennia.

The air around him crackled, and fire ran along the wires of gold, circling the chalice in rings of flame. The heart bubbled, dark smoke oozing from it, billowing up to form a shape. Massive rounded shoulders appeared, and a huge head with a cavernous mouth. Eyes flickered open, yellow and slitted. Long arms, bulging with muscle, sprouted from the shoulders.

Zhu Chao began to tremble, and felt his courage waning. The creature of smoke threw back its head and a sibilant hissing filled the room.

'What do you want of me?' it said.

'A death,' answered Zhu Chao.

'Kesa Khan?'

'Exactly so.'

A sound issued from the creature of smoke – slow, volcanic hissing that Zhu Chao took to be laughter. 'He wants your death also,' said the demon.

'Can he pay in blood and pain?' countered Zhu Chao, aware that sweat was trickling down his face and that his hands were trembling.

'He has served my master well.'

'As have I.'

'Indeed. But I will not grant your request.'

'Why?'

'Look to the lines of your life, Zhu Chao.'

The smoke dispersed, as if a clean wind had swept through the room. The chalice was empty, the heart vanished without trace. Zhu Chao turned to where, moments before, the body of the young slave had hung in chains. It too was gone.

The sorceror stumbled from the circle, uncaring now about the lines of chalk which his sandalled feet smeared and scattered. Taking up the Third Grimoire he carried it to a leather-topped desk and searched through the pages. The spell he needed was a small one, needing no blood. He spoke the words then traced a pattern in the air. Where his finger passed a shining line appeared, a spider's web forming. At last satisfied he pointed to various inter­sections. Small spheres sprang into being at each spot, some blue, others green, one gold, two black. Zhu Chao drew in a deep breath, focusing his concentration. The web began to shift and move, the spheres spinning, circling the golden globe at the centre. The sorceror took up a quill pen, dipping it into a small well of ink. He found a large sheet of papyrus and began to write, occasionally glancing up at the swirling pattern in the air.

After an hour he had filled the page with symbols. Tired, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his back. The swirling web disappeared. Taking the sheet he walked back to the chalice, said the Six Words of Power and dropped the papyrus into the golden bowl.

It burst into flames, which reared up forming a burning sphere, a great globe which rose from the chalice, hanging in the air before his face. The sphere stretched and flattened, the flames dying down, and Zhu Chao saw a man dressed in black moving along the high walls of his palace. In the man's hand was a small crossbow.

The scene flickered and changed. There was an ancient fortress, with high twisted walls and tilted turrets. An army was gathered there, scaling-ladders and ropes at the ready. Upon the wall, on the highest turret, stood Kesa Khan. Beside him was a woman, also dressed in black.