You had to hand it to Lorius: he didn’t shrink from milking a volatile crowd. Katyett scanned the faces that she could see. Puffed up with anger and righteous indignation. Looking for an outlet for the fury they felt and finding it at the lectern opposite their hero. The vocal barrage that flew at Jarinn was truly shocking. And Helias stood by and watched it. For his part, Jarinn kept his face carefully neutral.

‘Second!’ thundered Lorius and a forest of V-signs shot into the air to accompanying cheers. ‘Just what is it we have seen in the decade since Takaar appeared through the gate from Hausolis and fled into the forest as it collapsed behind him? Have we seen the returning Ynissul working like slaves to maintain the harmony their coward imposed upon us?’

Lorius paused. The public hushed. ‘Let me take you back in history just for a moment. There have been elves living here in the rainforest for over a thousand years. All of us faithfully following Takaar’s harmony, Takaar’s law. And there are none among us – few enough that remember the first days here – who would deny that it worked. And, Tual knows, we needed to live in peace with the challenges that we faced here.

‘All threads pulled together to make sure we not only survived but thrived. The Ynissul too.’

Boos and jeers stalled his speech, and for the first time Lorius displayed anger. He moved from behind his lectern and faced the crowd full on. For a moment, Katyett wondered if he’d dropped them as easily as he’d caught them. There he stood, an ula alone in front of a hooting mob that paid him no attention. For a second time, though, she had to admit a grudging respect.

Not for a heartbeat did his expression change. Nor did he gesture for calm or let his eye move away from the scene in front of him. And slowly, slowly they quietened, realising perhaps that their show had ceased and their principal actor had walked from the stage.

‘Thank you,’ said Lorius quietly. And he returned to his lectern, daring them to begin again. ‘Why do you jeer at the truth? Perhaps your memories are short. The Ynissul were instrumental in the success of the harmony and High Priest Jarinn a central figure in that success. Jeer now if you don’t believe me.’

Silence. Almost. Merrat chuckled.

‘Good, isn’t he?’

‘Very,’ said Katyett. ‘And just look at the space he’s created for whatever lie is coming next.’

‘So why is it that we stand here now knowing that our people are unhappy? That they feel undermined? That tension grows by the day and knowing that there have been incidents of violence between threads. A dark place we thought never to revisit. The answer is as simple as it is tragic.

‘In the wake of Takaar’s abject failure, the Ynissul, bolstered by the return of so many with him – mysterious when brother and sister threads suffered so badly – have set about reinstalling themselves as the dominant thread.’

Now the boos began again and Lorius nodded.

‘Yes. Yes. Across our land, they take charge. The Amllans of Ysundeneth, Tolt Anoor and Deneth Barine?’

‘YNISSUL!’

‘The high priest of Shorth?’

‘YNISSUL!’

‘The Lord of the Fleet?’

‘YNISSUL!’

Lorius spread his hands and let the applause grow. He wagged a finger when it was at its height and began again.

‘I could go on.’ He snatched up a sheaf of papers. ‘From judges to landowners, civil servants to the keepers of the exchequer, Ynissul are everywhere. And while the Lord of the Al-Arynaar might be a Tuali, her love for Takaar renders her Ynissul in all but name. The insidious, growing influence is everywhere. Even up there in the rafters!’

Every face swung up to sneer at the TaiGethen high above the floor. Missiles were thrown, mainly fruit. The TaiGethen in the rafters swayed and dodged economically, catching much that reached them, Merrat cocked her arm, a hard, unripe mango in her fist.

‘No,’ said Katyett. ‘Or at least, not yet.’

‘Look at them.’ Lorius continued the taunt. ‘Like monkeys swinging from the branches of a banyan, too fearful to put their feet on the ground lest we see the deception in their eyes. Too haughty to nestle among their brothers in case we should give them something unmentionable. And do they, our oh-so-glorious immortals, do they hide up there to protect us all from harm? To police thread unity? I think not. Every TaiGethen is an Ynissul. EVERY SINGLE ONE! And there they sit, waiting for the call to defend their own and only their own.

‘Takaar is the reason the Ynissul alone refuse to interbreed. They use Takaar’s law against us. Why is every position of power being eaten up by the Ynissul? Same reason. Takaar’s law. The law that demands that the holder of any position of authority must be given to the brother or sister best able to enhance the harmony. Takaar’s harmony!

‘The harmony that meant a hundred thousand non-Ynissul died. The harmony that would enslave us all again beneath the heel of the Ynissul. We must free ourselves before it is too late. We must live the harmony as it was first conceived. Before it was perverted as a weapon to oppress our lesser, mortal souls.’

The crowd’s anger and volume intensified and increased with every phrase, every punch of the air.

‘Before the true harmony is destroyed we must claim back the life we enjoyed before Takaar failed us all. I say to hell with Takaar’s law! I say rip it from the statute. I denounce Takaar for the coward he is. I denounce all that he stands for and I say wipe the slate clean of his influence. I denounce Takaar. Vote with me!’

Yniss is perfect. Those who follow him, not so. Haleth took a long swallow of the leaf and root infusion Sildaan had ordered made for him by one of the cowed and fearful temple workers. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. It started off bitter but had a sweet aftertaste. Mind you, it could have tasted like fox shit and he’d have drunk the lot for the promise of an end to the burrowing insects and their eggs in his flesh.

He had run onto the temple grounds mid-afternoon, exultant to be alive but with an anger at his treatment that burned bright.

‘You left us for target practice,’ he said, handing back the clay mug. ‘No guide and just the sun to lead us. I still can’t believe I’m still alive. Even less that I made it here. It was a slaughter out there. Why did you split us up?’

Sildaan passed the mug to a worker. At least she had the good grace to look apologetic. Mostly, the sharp-ears didn’t give anything away so it had to mean something.

‘I spilt us up to draw the sentry TaiGethen cell away from you. It seems to have worked.’ She shook her head. ‘You ran into a Silent Priest, didn’t you? It’s the only explanation.’

Haleth nodded. ‘Right. One with the white face and his bodyguard. And I’m looking at corpses everywhere. Anyone else make it here?’

Next to Sildaan, Garan sighed. ‘Not so far.’

‘And they won’t,’ said Sildaan. ‘Sorry. This is most unfortunate.’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Haleth. ‘I’ll say it’s unfortunate. We’ve lost almost half our force. Two mages as well. It was a big mistake coming here first. We should have gone straight for Ysundeneth with the main force. That’s where the power lies.’

‘That’s why I’m calling the shots,’ said Sildaan. ‘You don’t understand the elven mind. All we are is the rainforest. It is where we truly live. The cities cover less than one half of one per cent of Calaius. They might be our marketplaces and our seat of government but our soul is here. And it is secure.

‘If we’re to truly remove the harmony, return to the right order of things, we have to undermine that security. Taking the temple will do that. Because those that hear about it will take the message to their homes and beyond, that the TaiGethen could not defend Aryndeneth. It is a blow to the heart. But it will take time for the message to spread.’