Llian watched Sulien playing a game with Piffle in the orchard. She was tossing the fallen leaves at him and laughing as he leaped in the air, trying to catch them in his mouth. There were yellow leaves in her red hair. In other circumstances it would have been a perfect day, for she had no memory of the nightmares Karan had lifted from her.

His eyes prickled. Time was hurtling towards the night of the triple moons and he had learned nothing about the enemy. How could he protect her when he couldn’t fight to save his own life? Would he even know when the magiz found her, or would he just discover — Llian choked.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? You look so sad.” Sulien came up and took his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

He rubbed his wet eyes. It wasn’t right that she should be worrying about him. “Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Stuff. We’d better get these pears picked.”

He plucked the last red pear on the tree, inspected it for grubs and put it in the orchard basket, then stood there, worrying about his reaction to the drumming. He’d felt a terrifying, almost uncontrollable urge to smash things, and what if it was worse next time? What if Karan was right about him? What might he do under its irresistible influence?

He had to be strong. He had to be prepared to fight the drumming when it next occurred.

How could Karan hope to beat the magiz, a powerful alien sorcerer, anyway? She was out of her depth, yet she would never give in. She would protect Sulien with her life – and lose it. Then the magiz would kill Sulien to protect the Merdrun’s fatal weakness. But even if, by some miracle, Karan and Sulien survived the next eight weeks, the Merdrun would invade and the world would end.

Who were they, anyway, and why had they fought the Charon, whom they closely resembled, so relentlessly? What was the summon stone that would allow them to open the Crimson Gate and invade Santhenar on the night of the triple moons? Could he find it?

Karan had assumed that he could sort through his knowledge of the Histories like a librarian through a catalogue, but Llian knew he could not find the answers here. He needed access to the best libraries, though under Wistan’s ban they were barred to him. The ban must be lifted urgently, but how?

“The old bastard should have died years ago,” he muttered.

“You’re not supposed to swear in front of children.” Sulien gave him a stern look, though her furtive grin undermined it. She loved it when he broke the rules.

“Sorry. Though bast — that word, isn’t really swearing. It’s a true description of Wistan, the repulsive little swine.”

She rolled her eyes, skipped off and climbed the next pear tree. Her big-eyed puppy trotted from one pile of cow dung to another, sniffing cheerfully.

“Hang on!” Llian lugged the basket across. “You know the rules. I climb the tree, you catch the pears.”

“Piffle,” said Sulien. It was her favourite word. “Mummy said —” She broke off, flushing charmingly.

Llian set the basket down and frowned at her, hands on hips. “Go on, what did Karan say?”

“She told me not to tell.”

“Mummies and daddies shouldn’t keep secrets from each other, should they?” Hypocrite! Llian could have written an encyclopedia on secrets.

Sulien brushed her red tangles back over her shoulder and took a deep breath. “If they love each other, they should tell each other everything.”

“What else did Karan say, exactly?”

“She said… um, there were some rude words.”

“About me?” He hid a smile. “You have my permission to repeat them.”

“Really?” She beamed. “Mummy said, ‘Don’t on any account let that clumsy oaf climb the fruit trees… or next time he’s liable to break his bloody bollocking neck.’”

“I’ve only fallen out of a tree once,” he lied.

“Fibber! It’s three times this year already. I’ve been counting.”

“What a frightening little creature you are,” he said fondly. “Do you spend your whole day spying on me?”

“I don’t spy,” Sulien cried. “I just… notice things.”

“You’d make a great chronicler. What do you want to do when you’re grown up?”

“Live here, of course. I love Gothryme. Though I wish it’d rain.”

For years that had been their main preoccupation, yet now the drought was the least of their worries. “Me too.”

She scrambled up and out onto a slender branch, which creaked alarmingly, then dropped pears to him. Llian caught them and put them in the basket.

“What happened to Cook?” said Sulien, reaching across to the next branch. “And why is poor Benie locked in the old cellar?”

Llian stumbled against the basket. Pears rolled across the dusty ground. “How did you know about that?”

“Daddy, please. Did Benie go mad, like Mummy’s mother did when she was little?”

Llian leaned back against the fork of the tree, looking across the orchard to the dry riverbed.

“No,” he said heavily. Sulien had to be told; she would find out soon enough. “Benie killed Cook. We don’t know why. Did you hear anything strange yesterday morning?”

“No.”

Not for the first time he wondered what other gifts Sulien had. “Do you see things in your mind’s eye, the way Karan does?”

Sulien shrugged. “I don’t know how Mummy sees things.”

It was an impossible question. If she did have an unusual talent, it probably seemed normal to her.

“Why are you still banned from working, Daddy?”

“Because Wistan is a foul, malicious old warthog, and he hates me.”

“Is that because you’re a Zain?”

“Partly. Lots of people hate us.” A treacherous alliance in ancient times had led to the Zain being despised outcasts for two thousand years.

Her bottom lip trembled. “Am I a Zain? Do people hate me?” She swayed on her branch.

He lifted her down and held her close, cursing his big mouth. “No one could possibly hate you.” Except that callous brute Gergrig and his evil, life-drinking magiz.

“But am I Zain?”

“Not exactly. It comes through the mother’s line, not the father’s.”

“Who are the Zain, anyway? Didn’t they build the Great Library at Zile?”

“They did. They used to live in western Meldorin, and they loved books and writing. But long ago, during a terrible war, their leaders betrayed humanity to the Charon, and the Zain were exiled. They ended up in a hot desert land in the south. That’s where I come from, a little town called Jepperand, next to the Dry Sea.”

“Oh!” She scurried up the other trunk. “You didn’t finish talking about the ban.”

“Wistan was expected to die years ago, but he clings to life like a grub to a twig, and clings to the mastership too. And while he lives, he controls the vote, the ban and my life.”

She dropped the pears, he caught them and they continued until the basket was full.

“What was Mummy doing in the library yesterday?” said Sulien.

“Writing to Tallia and Shand, I expect.”

“No, she sneaked in and locked the door.”

“How do you know?”

“I like to hide under the old desk in the corner and read. Mummy looked really pale. I thought she was going to faint.”

It felt wrong not to be talking about the nightmares Karan had lifted from Sulien, but they had agreed to keep them from her for now. “What happened to Cook was a big shock,” he said lamely.

“Mummy was reading papers in the secret passage.”

He gaped at her. “What secret passage?”

Again that infuriating roll of the eyes, that pitying look: poor, silly Daddy. “It’s… um… where she keeps the stuff she doesn’t want anyone to see.”

“What stuff?”

“Books and papers, hundreds of years old, I expect.”

“Karan said Gothryme’s old records were lost in the Great Flood eighty years ago,” Llian muttered.

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Sulien said wisely. “I suppose that’s why she burned them in the fireplace.”

“Burned what?”

“I couldn’t see,” said Sulien, not meeting his eyes. “She had her back to me.”

Llian knew she was lying but did not know how to get it out of her. She was as stubborn as her mother and better at keeping secrets than he was. He picked the heavy basket up and they headed back.

“What other secrets do you know?” he said idly.

“I know you’ve been writing to your old girlfriend in Chanthed. Even though you promised Mummy you wouldn’t.”

Llian walked into a low branch, setting his head ringing. His mouth had gone dry. How did Sulien know that? He put the basket down and rubbed his forehead. “That’s my private business, and you’re not to tell Karan.”

“Why not?”

“Because if she finds out, I’ll be in big trouble.”

“Of course she’ll find out. Mummy always does.”

And when she did, Karan would crucify him.

“Are you going to leave us and live with your girlfriend?” Sulien said anxiously.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Anyway, Thandiwe’s not my girlfriend. That was ages ago, before I met Karan.” He crouched down and took her hands. “Sulien, you’ve got to promise you won’t say anything.”

“If she’s not your girlfriend, why are you writing to her?”

Her disapproval hurt, deserve it though he did. “Do you promise? This is really important.”

“All right, I promise. But you’ve got to tell me why.”

“Because Thandiwe was supposed to become Master of the College when Wistan died.”

“But he never did.”

“He will,” Llian said savagely, “if I have to throttle him with my bare hands.”

Sulien let out a squeak of alarm.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said hastily. “But Wistan’s a very sick man; he can’t even get out of his chair. When he dies, soon, there’s a good chance Thandiwe will be elected Master. Then, if I’m nice to her, she’ll overturn the ban and all our troubles will be over.”

Llian wasn’t sure that prospect was even relevant any more, but he had to keep up the pretence of normality for Sulien’s sake.

She looked up at him with those deep green eyes that saw too much, and too deeply. “What does Thandiwe mean by being nice to her?”