It occurred to Talgorian that this was all an elaborate plot to trick him into saying something incriminating.

As though he’d read his mind, Okrael said, ‘If you’re worried that this is some kind of ploy, since when did Melyobar bother with trifles like evidence?’

‘Are you implying that His Majesty would employ summary justice in the case of someone like me? I am Gath Tampoor’s Imperial Ambassador, after all.’ He found it hard saying this without a slight swelling of the chest.

‘Do you really think that would sway him in any way if he wanted your throat cut?’

The self-evident truth of that deflated the Envoy somewhat. ‘All right, I’ll listen to what you have to say. But I hope you’re not wasting my time.’

‘Then I’ll keep it brief. The Prince has had us working on a special project for months now. A project with only one objective: mass murder.’

‘But he has no legions under his command, no army to wreak destruction. There’s no more than his palace guard, essentially. How are they to undertake a slaughter?’

‘You’re thinking conventionally. Melyobar has no intention of killing by force of arms.’

‘Then how? Magic?’

‘Magic’s played its part. But you might say that what he’s really employing is nature.’

‘Explain yourself.’

‘A great deal of effort’s been put into making this place even more independent of the outside world than it already is. We’ve not only taken on enough supplies to feed a city, we also have things the Prince wants preserved.’

‘Preserved?’

‘Animals, for example. Beasts of all kinds in mating pairs. The lower levels are crammed with pens and cages. It’s a zoo down there.’

‘They’re just diversions, surely? For His Highness’s entertainment.’

‘No. They’re not there for his edification; he has them because he wants them to survive. To populate a new world.’

‘How could he possibly-’

‘It’s all about his obsession with death, of course. Putting one over on his old adversary. The way Melyobar reasons is, what better way to find a man hiding in a forest than to burn down the trees?’

‘You’re saying he plans destruction, but by what means?’

‘He’s had us collecting corpses, putrefying flesh, all manner of vile, corrupt things. The aim was to identify those humours that breed in filth and bring sickness, and having isolated them, to produce a distillation of pestilences. The plan is a cleansing of the world through the spread of plague. He claims his dead father gave him the idea.’

‘Could it work?’

‘Oh, yes. We’ve arrived at a particularly virulent strain of the malady. We know it works; it’s been tested on live subjects.’

‘It’s Melyobar’s objective to introduce this…essence into the world?’

‘He favours scattering it with the catapults you’d have seen arrayed on the battlements. Though in truth it could just as easily be introduced into wells or rivers, or in any number of other ways. Simply forcing people to drink the distillate and sending them out contaminated would spread the disease.’

‘And the result would be…?’

‘With no known protection against the strain, and no cure, numerous fatalities. Perhaps even the world denuded of human life, as Melyobar dreams. Purged of all, that is, except him, his servants and obsequious courtiers.’

‘All the better to see Death.’

‘Yes. At last, there’d be no hiding place for the Prince’s enemy.’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’

‘I didn’t become a sorcerer to have a hand in massacring my own people. It has to be stopped. Few outsiders come here, and you’re the only one of late with any power, Ambassador, and not in his thrall. At least I hope so.’

Talgorian was reeling. Okrael’s story had an awful ring of plausibility. ‘As it happens,’ the Envoy said, ‘our aims regarding the Prince aren’t dissimilar. I’m here to bring about changes.’

‘Then I’m more relieved than I can say. But you have to hurry. The quintessence is almost ready.’

‘You said magic had a part in this. I don’t see where.’

‘The essence is unstable. Extremes of heat or cold can neutralise its virulence. Magic binds it, keeps it sure.’

‘You’re a sorcerer. Can’t you interfere with that binding?’

‘I’m far from being the only one working on this, and certainly not the most senior. One or two of my brotherhood are sympathetic, but most are too frightened to express an opinion. I don’t know who’s against me or with me. I can’t do more than I’m doing, Ambassador. Now it’s down to you.’

‘Very well. Before the day’s out, things are going to be very different, Okrael, I can assure you of that.’

They made their farewells, promising to talk again later, under a new regime. Then the wizard slipped away, leaving Talgorian to mull things over.

A long time seemed to pass before they came to fetch him, though in reality the minutes elapsed were barely into double figures. He was guided by a pair of liveried servants, who true to form remained aloof.

He was surprised to find that he wasn’t taken to the throne room, where audiences usually took place. Instead, he was escorted up flights of stairs to a much higher level. He asked his guides what was going on, but they remained noncommittal. His anxiety built, and he found himself nervously fingering the document he had in his pocket.

Finally they reached what Talgorian thought of as the wheelhouse; the area from which the palace’s movement was controlled. The spacious room was dominated by a large panoramic window that occupied almost all of three sides. Its view was one of nearly complete murk, patterned with swirling snowflakes. The glamour orbs that lit the space had been dimmed to improve visibility.

There were a number of people present, mostly the wizard crew, along with guards and various servants. It was very much the way it had looked the only other time Talgorian had been there.

Melyobar sat on a throne-like chair set higher than any other, not far from the wheel that directed the massive palace’s movements. He was addressing an individual Talgorian recognised as the Captain. The Ambassador caught only the end of their exchange, but apparently the Captain had objected to the route the travelling court was about to take.

‘Enough!’ the Prince exclaimed. ‘I’ve no interest in your snivelling misgivings! We’re following a course through the great lakes area, and that’s an end to it. Unless you want to have your loyalty put to the question.’

The man grovelled, apologised and withdrew crushed. No one else seemed in the least interested in his humiliation, an indication of how common such occurrences were.

Only then did the Prince notice Talgorian. ‘Ah, the Ambassador has arrived,’ he announced loudly. ‘Come, step forward. Let’s not delay the progress of affairs of state.’

The Envoy did as he was bidden, thinking that perhaps the monarch was a little sharper than usual. ‘Greetings, Your Highness. I trust I find you well.’

The Prince ignored the banality. ‘And what brings you to court with such urgency?’

‘These are difficult times, Your Highness. As you’ll be aware, your nation and mine are engaged in a military mission of great importance.’

‘Are we?’ A look of befuddlement fleetingly occupied the Prince’s face.

It was something Talgorian often found when talking to Melyobar about the wider world, and it gave him brief comfort. ‘Indeed. A Gath Tampoor fleet, including representatives of our Bhealfan allies, is dealing with an enclave of rebels as we speak.’

‘And what do you expect me to do about it?’

‘As such, Highness, nothing at all. I merely draw your attention to events in order to give my succeeding statements a relevant context.’

‘We’re at war again. What’s so different about it this time?’

Was his attitude a mite more aggressive than usual? Incisive, even?

‘It’s not so much a matter of difference, sire. I mention it only in order to illustrate the great burden our dear Empress shoulders at such times, and to underline the difficulty of the decision she has had to make.’