Two agonising days had passed for Llian, and two sleepless nights, and he had never seen Snoat more cheerful. Only one thing could bring him more pleasure than obtaining an exquisite new piece for his collection, and that was planning the destruction of a treasure he no longer found good enough – to make sure no one else could have it.

Thandiwe was now the Chosen One, the teller with an almost certain Great Tale. Despite what Snoat had said, Llian knew it would be voted a Great Tale. The current masters knew which side their loaf was buttered on, and who did the buttering.

And Llian was the Doomed One. The man whose life would be measured in minutes after he completed Snoat’s private telling. Whenever that would be.

His only distraction was his quest, fruitless though it seemed. Where had the summon stone come from, and where was it now? Had Mendark known? Llian could not recall him ever mentioning it.

Where had Mendark come from, for that matter? He had risen to power towards the end of the ruinous era known as the Clysm, when Santhenar had been devastated by a series of wars between Charon and Aachim lasting for almost five hundred years. Mendark had been elected Magister of the Council of Santhenar at the unheard-of age of twenty-three, thirty years younger than any Magister before him, and there had been rumours that he’d had unholy aid.

Though Llian had known Mendark since the age of twelve, had travelled halfway across the world with him, owed his career to Mendark and at times had thought of him as a friend, he knew nothing about his early life. He had been a secretive man. A mercurial man too, and his cold rages were legendary. After Mendark set fire to his own library while Llian was trapped in it, he had spent most of the past decade hating the Magister. But had he unwittingly been led astray by the Merdrun? And if he had, did it change anything? Llian would reserve judgement on that.

He was trudging back to his room after another fruitless day when Snoat turned the corner, and he was cock-a-hoop.

“Llian!” he said cheerily. “Come and see what I’ve added to my collection.”

“Another stolen treasure?” Llian said sourly.

“This one walked in through the front door. Well, to be precise, the side window.”

“A book walked?”

“Who said anything about a book? Come!”

Llian followed him into the other wing of the villa. Snoat entered a guarded room that smelled of ointment, passed between a series of screens and there, lying in a bed with her dark skin covered in bandages and bruises, was Tallia. Llian reeled. It was a catastrophe.

Snoat chuckled. “What a prize!”

“How…?” said Llian.

“I dare say she’ll tell you all about it.”

“You’re leaving us to talk?”

“I’ve made sure she can work no mancery. And I know you to be singularly inept.” Snoat went out.

Llian carried a chair across to the bed and sat beside it. Tallia had two black eyes, so swollen that she could barely open them.

“Tallia,” he said softly. “It’s me, Llian.”

One eye opened to a slit. The other quivered but remained closed. She raised her left hand, winced and let it flop down again. Her wrist was encircled by a metal band mounted with a pink amethyst and fine silver wires wound around it in five places. Llian recognised Unick’s work: ugly, but presumably effective at preventing her using the Secret Art.

“Is there news of Karan?” he burst out. “Snoat’s been hunting her. I can’t bear to think —”

“She’s safe. She’s with us.”

“Who’s us?”

“Me, Shand, Yggur, Nadiril and Lilis.”

Relief drained the strength from him and he slumped on the bed. “What – what’s your plan?”

Tallia lowered her voice. “Bring down Snoat any way we can. And destroy the summon stone.”

“Why did Karan send Sulien away with the Whelm? Or did they steal her?”

“You’re being silly. She volunteered to go with them.”

He could not hold back a cry. “Why?”

“Partly because of a stigma the magiz put on Karan when she went back to Cinnabar.”

The blood drained from Llian’s face. His head was spinning, his vision breaking up to whirling streaks. “What?” he said shrilly. “She went back again? When?”

Tallia told him what she knew.

His breath came in great shuddering gasps. “Are you saying the magiz is in Karan’s mind… and knows everything she does?” He felt so faint he had to lower his head onto the bed. She was doomed.

“Pull yourself together,” said Tallia. “The stigma is more like the lantern on the outside of a coach – it only reveals where Karan is, and only some of the time.”

Llian managed to sit up. “What was the other reason she sent Sulien away?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Karan couldn’t attempt a rescue while she had Sulien with her.”

Guilt fell on him like a collapsing wall. Karan had put herself in even more danger because of his stupidity, and Sulien had sacrificed herself to the hideous Whelm to give her mother the chance to save him.

He rose and staggered around the room. “This is a nightmare, and I’m to blame. I don’t deserve Karan’s love, much less Sulien’s.”

Tallia sighed. “Since you have it, deservedly or not, you’d be advised to draw comfort from it. Anyway, Sulien has linked to Karan a couple of times, and she’s safe. The Whelm are treating her like one of their own children.”

Llian let out a despairing cry.

“What is it now?” said Tallia.

“The Whelm are harsh, cold and emotionally dead. Their children get hard labour and daily punishment whether they’ve done anything wrong or not. Tallia, I’ve got to get out of here.”

“There’s no way out of Pem-Y-Rum. And you’ve got a job to do.” She opened one black eye and studied Llian. “You look well enough.”

“He’s fattening the pig,” Llian said bitterly.

“Beg your pardon?”

He explained his situation, then told her about Unick’s work and the devices he was making. “And it’s all connected to the summon stone,” he concluded. “Somehow.”

She did not speak for several minutes. “It’s no wonder he caught me so easily. The Identity device would have detected me the moment I tried to break in.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Yes. Karan kept on at us to rescue you. And I had to make up for… my utter failure as Magister.”

“You’ve been a great Magister.”

Tallia laughed hollowly. “I neglected to foster talented young leaders to replace old and tired ones. I failed to build strong alliances, and I couldn’t fill the power vacuum Yggur left when he had his mental breakdown. Because of my failures, Snoat had an easy road to power, and when the Merdrun come…”

In four weeks. Panic flared; Llian wrested it to the ground. “What happened to you?”

“The moment I sneaked into Pem-Y-Rum, a red-faced brute laid into me as though he wanted to batter me to death.”

“Gurgito Unick. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

“You forget who I am, Llian. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

“I hope you hurt the bastard.”

“I broke his jaw with a kick that would have snapped any other man’s neck.”

“Good!” said Llian.

“Then the guards held me while Unick, broken jaw and all, attacked me.” She shivered. “I’ve never seen such hate in a man. He locked the mancery-blocking bracelet on me and that was that.”

“What do you know about Mendark’s extraordinary rise to power?” Llian asked, after a pause.

“Why do you ask?”

“There were rumours that he’d done an unsavoury deal to get there. Or incurred a debt that had to be repaid.”

She frowned. “Why does it matter now?”

“Unick’s Origin device is connected to the summon stone. And we know Mendark started working on the secret of mancery hundreds of years ago. Plus, Snoat mentioned finding an incomplete device in the Council’s secret archives, that —”

Tallia groaned.

“What is it?” said Llian.

“A few weeks ago I made a disastrous mistake, and already it’s come back to haunt me.”

She told him about entrusting the code to the spell vault to Hingis, despite his and Esea’s protests, and how he had been forced to reveal it within days.

“That’s how Snoat and Unick have made such brilliant progress,” she said bitterly. “They had Mendark’s prototype for inspiration.”

Llian said nothing. Given that he had lost the precious dirt book within days, he could hardly blame her.

They sat in silence for several minutes, then she added: “No one knows anything about how he came to power. It was a very long time ago, and he was a secretive man.”

“I’ve got to find out, but all his papers burned with the citadel library.”

“Maybe not all,” said Tallia, leaning towards him and lowering her voice. “He had a number of secret caches, where he kept copies of secrets that must never be lost. One was at the salt lake megaliths north of Chanthed.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Inner base of the tall squared-off stone in the outer line of stones.”

Llian heard the door open and leaped up as Snoat appeared with Ifoli.

“Go with Ifoli, Llian,” said Snoat. “You’ve got to prepare for my private telling – tonight.”

“And then?” said Llian.

Snoat smiled. “Your death will make the Great Tale even more exquisite, because you will never tell it again.”

It was like a hammer blow to the heart. It seemed to stop beating. “Damn you!’” Llian cried, gasping for air. “I’ll spoil the tale! I’ll ruin it!”

“Your pride wouldn’t let you, teller. If you are to die tonight, and you are, you would have to make your last telling your very best.”