‘If they will not then we are not fit to rule again.’

‘Oh, Leeth. We cannot miss this chance because if we do we will be in thrall to Tualis or Beethans. They will not be so timid as you.’

‘Takaar has taught us that conflict is not the way forward. Whatever his failings, he was the one who ended the War of Bloods. This path will lead to disaster.’

‘Then you must follow a different one.’

Sildaan pulled him into an embrace. After the briefest pause, he clung to her and began to weep. Not for a moment did he expect the knife which slid up under his ribs and pierced his heart. He gasped and clung on tighter.

‘Safe journey to the ancients. One day you will bless my way and we will walk again together.’

Leeth felt no pain. His legs gave way and Sildaan knelt with him. He stared at her while she wiped blood from his mouth and nose.

‘Your way will see us all to death,’ managed Leeth.

‘Quiet now. Leave your hate here. Travel free.’

Leeth’s eyes closed. He could not stop his body sliding to the ground. The stone was chill on his cheek. He prayed to Shorth to embrace his soul. Dimly, he felt Sildaan withdraw her knife. He could not muster any anger, just an overwhelming sadness.

Leeth breathed in but blood was filling his lungs, drowning him. He tried to open his eyes but he had not the strength. He heard voices echoing around him.

‘Shorth, take your soul to the blessed embrace of Yniss. Let Tual’s denizens use your body. Let the forest reclaim you. Let your sacrifice not be in vain,’ said Sildaan.

‘It was the only option you had,’ said Garan.

‘I loved him. But what we face is greater than any love for one ula. You, I detest. Work out how much I value your life.’

Leeth shed a single tear.

Belief in your body is the root of survival. ‘Look at you, beautiful beast.’

And look at you crawling on your belly like the reptile you love so well. Appropriate.

Takaar twitched in anger, his legs rattling undergrowth. The snake turned in his direction, lifted and flattened its head. Its body curled in under it. It stared at him, deep brown iris surrounding a black pupil. Takaar stilled completely, ignoring the entreaties of his tormentor to reach out a hand and embrace his death at the bite of this stunning creature.

Instead, he continued his study. Around him and across him, insects crawled and leeches clung. The taipan’s tongue sampled the air. It was better than eight feet long and a reddish dark brown in colour on its back and sides. Underneath, the scales were a yellower colour. It had a round, snouted head and its neck was quite dark, an almost glossy black.

It could kill him if it so chose. Or it thought it could.

‘So shy,’ he whispered. ‘So powerful.’

The most venomous in the forest, he thought, but that was still to be determined for sure.

‘Will you help me, I wonder? I will not hurt you, I promise.’

The taipan relaxed its posture; its head moved back to the forest floor. It nosed into the leaf litter. Takaar came very slowly to a crouched position. The snake ignored him for the moment, intent on some prey or other.

‘But that will have to wait, deadly friend.’ Takaar chuckled. ‘First a test for you.’

Takaar rustled a handful of leaves. The taipan was poised in an instant, no more than four feet from him. The pair stared at each other, the taipan’s body moving slowly beneath it. Takaar moved his body gently from side to side, noting the mirror movement of the snake’s raised neck.

‘Good,’ said Takaar. ‘Now then…’

Takaar twitched his body. The taipan struck, head moving up and forward with astonishing speed. Takaar’s right hand shot out. His fist closed around the snake’s neck, right behind its head. Its jaws opened and shut, scant inches from Takaar’s face. Its body coiled and jerked, furious at its capture. Takaar held on. The snake coiled hard around his arm, squeezing.

Takaar pressed his fingers against the hinges of the snake’s jaws, forcing them open. The taipan’s fangs were not long, less than an inch. Not hinged like some vipers he had examined. The inside of the mouth was pink and soft. So much death contained within. Takaar smiled.

‘You’re a fierce one, aren’t you? I’ve been wanting one of you for a long, long time, you know that? Hmm.’

Takaar turned and walked back to his shelter, which lay a short distance inside the edge of the rainforest where the trees met the cliffs overlooking the glory of the delta at Verendii Tual. The air was fresher here, beyond the suffocating humidity deep under the canopy. His shelter had become a sprawling affair. Part skin bivouac, part thatch and mud building. He headed for the building, next to which stood his third and best attempt at a kiln. A few trial pots rested on a rack next to it.

The taipan had relaxed, its struggles ceasing. Takaar could feel its weight on his arm. A fascinating creature. He glanced down at it. Those eyes stared where he determined, his grip on its head as firm as in that first moment. Takaar ducked his head and entered the building. It was dark inside but his eyes adjusted very quickly.

Shame you didn’t choose to let it bite you. Why do you continue this pathetic charade?

‘If it was any of your business, which it isn’t, I would explain in greater detail. But suffice to say that the mind must be active or the inevitable descent to madness begins.’

Begins? For you that journey is a fading memory.

‘Madness is subjective. All of us exhibit the signs to a greater or lesser extent. I have some. So do you. It is the way of things. At least I am building something useful. What is it that you will leave behind you?’

Your corpse being devoured by the beasts you worship.

‘I will leave truth.’

And you have been so diligent in constructing your own truth, haven’t you?

‘Can we talk about this later? I’m a little busy.’

I just fail to see why you pursue this folly. How can you leave a legacy in a place where no one will ever find it? That is why you’re here, right? To make sure no one ever finds you, alive or dead.

‘You miss the point of my penance.’

I miss the point of your continued existence entirely.

Takaar focused back on his task. There was a table along one wall of the building, the result of a number of experiments in binding legs to tabletops. The surface was a little rough and uneven, cut from a fallen hardwood tree, similarly the legs. They were notched and grooved to slot together and then bound with liana and some young strangler vine. The table rocked a little but it served.

The tabletop was tidy. Obsessively so, said his tormentor, but it did not do to be confused about what lay in each of the small, wood-stoppered clay pots. They stood in rows down the left- and right-hand sides, leaving space in the centre for new work. He had etched a symbol into each stopper representing a particular herb or animal extract. He recorded the code, carving into pieces of hardwood he’d polished for the purpose.

A single clay pot half the size of Takaar’s hand sat in the middle of the table. Across it was stretched and tied a circle of cloth from Takaar’s dwindling supply of fine fabric. He picked up the pot, forced open the jaws of the taipan and hooked its fangs over the lip of the vessel. The cloth triggered the bite reflex and the taipan released its venom against the side of the jar. Impossible to see exactly how much, but he carried on milking until the snake tried to withdraw.

‘There, my friend. No pain. You are one of Tual’s denizens and I have no wish for you to come to harm.’

I doubt it feels the same way about you.

Takaar ignored the comment. He ducked outside the hut, walked away forty or so yards and released the reptile back into the forest, watching it slide quickly and effortlessly away, disappearing beneath the deep undergrowth and leaf fall.