“I am sorry, Axis,” Maximilian said. “You of all people do not need this thrust upon you. But —”

“I am not ready to hear the ’but‘ yet,” Axis said.

They sat alone in the command chamber, everyone else gone to snatch a few hours sleep, a meal, or to check on defences. Maximilian had left some of the Emerald Guard minding the Dark Spire; there was little else he could do about it at this stage.

“There is no one else, Axis,” Maximilian said.

Axis did not reply. He was staring toward the windows, his face lined with exhaustion, his skin almost grey.

“You are the best —”

“Don’t,” Axis said, and Maximilian sighed and studied his hands. He didn’t blame Axis for being angry, but at the same time he was growing tired of it. Axis was still furious at Inardle and was projecting that fury on to everything and everyone else.

“I will keep in contact,” Maximilian said.

“How?” Axis said, looking at Maximilian for the first time. “DarkGlass Mountain is far, far away. Do either of us have enough power to communicate over that distance?”

Maximilian nodded at the window, and Axis looked that way once again. He straightened in his chair in surprise, then rose. “Who is that?”

“Josia,” Maximilian said, walking with Axis to the window.

Instead of space and sky beyond the balcony, there appeared another window some two or three paces away. In that window stood a young, dark-haired man.

Josia Persimius, the soul who had inhabited the Weeper, and who now existed only within the Twisted Tower.

“Josia,” Axis said.

Josia made a small bow of respect from his window. “Axis SunSoar. Maxel suggested you use me as a go-between. Maxel can access the Twisted Tower from anywhere. I can speak to you from my window at the top of the tower. If you need to speak to me, just call my name and go to the nearest window.”

“Ishbel had told me that to look from the window at the top of the Twisted Tower was death,” Axis said.

Josia gave a small smile. “Ah, but I have already died, and have no body to die again. Such restrictions are meaningless to me.”

“It will at least give us something,” Maximilian said, and Axis sighed, and nodded, finally willing to relent.

“Yes. It will give us something. Thank you, Josia.”

Josia bowed once more, and the window faded.

“A neat trick, Maxel,” Axis said as they walked back to their chairs.

“I have a few left, Axis,” Maximilian said.

They sat down, and Axis rubbed at his eyes, his shoulders slumping.

“You need to rest,” Maximilian said.

“Thirty thousand Lealfast fighters are outside, millions of Skraelings approach and we have some dark finger of Infinity sitting in the basement. Rest?”

“Nonetheless .”

“What do you want me to do, Maxel? What is your point putting me in charge? What do you want me to achieve for you?”

“To save as many lives as you can; to keep intact as much of Elcho Falling as you can.”

“And defeat the Lealfast and the Skraeling hordes. And the One, should he decide to pop back for a visit.”

Maximilian risked a smile. “That would help, Axis.”

Axis didn’t return the smile. “And how long do you expect me to hold all this together?”

“We can reach DarkGlass Mountain quickly through Elcho Falling’s graces, but we cannot return the same way. Even Elcho Falling has its limitations. So . . . we reach DarkGlass Mountain within the day, spend, oh, perhaps a week there at most, then return the slow way via our feet, or horses, through to the east coast of Isembaard. Hopefully, there will still be vessels on the coast willing to carry us north to Elcho Falling.”

“I will speak to Georgdi. He may be able to organise to have something waiting for you.”

“That would be a help. Thank you.”

They fell into silence for a few minutes. It stretched awkwardly, Axis’ continued ill-temper creating a chasm between them.

“I know nothing about Elcho Falling,” Axis said eventually. “Nothing of its power, of its lore, of how it works. I am not its lord. How will it respond to me? How can I defend it when —”

Maximilian nodded to a point at Axis’ side, and Axis broke off as he saw one of Elcho Falling’s servants standing there.

“You shall not be our lord,” the servant said, “but we shall be allies, you and I. Whenever you need to speak, then I shall be here.”

“You speak for Elcho Falling?” Axis said.

Something crossed the servant’s face, a strange wild look. “As if I were Elcho Falling,” he said.

Axis looked at Maximilian in astonishment, but when he looked back to the servant to speak to him, he was gone.

“Elcho Falling will listen to you, and will offer advice if needed,” Maximilian said. “It will recognise you almost as if you were me. There may be some constraints, but I doubt they will be too restrictive.”

“And the Dark Spire? What do you expect me to do about that? What shall I do when it grows through all of Elcho Falling?”

“I am sorry, Axis. I do not know. I hope that when Ishbel and I manage to destroy DarkGlass Mountain, then we will either destroy the One or remove his access to the power of Infinity. Maybe, with the One gone, then the Dark Spire will fade and die, too. Maybe. If not, then we can tackle the Dark Spire together, Axis.”

“Hope is an insubstantial thing,” Axis said, “for something of such cold dark magic as that spire.”

“It is all I have to offer you.” Maximilian paused. “Axis, talk to Inardle. I know you think she has betrayed you —”

Axis sent him a bleak look.

“— but I do not think her the utter traitor that you do. She can help. I think all she wants is for you to ask her.”

Axis grunted in dismissal.

“Axis, she stayed here because she loves you. That’s what kept her here. Not me, not Elcho Falling. You.”

“If she had truly loved me then she would have told me —”

“For you to do what? React precisely as you have now? She knows you too well, Axis, but still she stayed.”

“How many have died because of her silence?”

“Talk to her, Axis.”

Axis made a gesture with a hand, dismissing the subject. “Do you know how close Isaiah is?”

“I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Isaiah travels with the Isembaardian general, Lamiah — at least we don’t have to worry about that general as we do Kezial — and, what, some hundred thousand Isembaardians. They are horribly exposed to both the Lealfast and the Skraelings.”

“I know, Axis. I know.” Maximilian sighed. “If I could do something . . . you can’t send out some of the Strike Force?”

“They’d be slaughtered by the Lealfast as soon as they left Elcho Falling’s protection, Maxel. I am worried that the Lealfast might turn their attention to Isaiah. And if he approaches Elcho Falling . . . how to get him and his army inside without loss of life . . . if the Skraelings have left any army to get inside, of course.”

Axis paused. “I am trapped inside this great big bloody citadel, Maxel. I hate being trapped. I hate it.”

To that Maximilian had nothing to say.

It was deep night and Maximilian and Ishbel had said their farewells. They stood now with Avaldamon in a small chamber in the heart of Elcho Falling, small packs lying at their heels.

They were not alone.

“No,” said Maximilian, looking sternly at Serge and Doyle. The two Emerald Guardsmen, former assassins, had accompanied him on his journey from Escator into the heart of Isembaard to rescue Ishbel from Isaiah.

That all seemed so long ago.

“Egalion sent us,” Doyle said.

“I had told him, no,” Maximilian said, knowing he would lose this battle as he’d lost it previously.

“Two extra swords are always handy,” said Serge. “Well, two swords only, as I see that none of you are armed.”

Ishbel laughed. “Oh, Maxel, let them come. I assume it will be all right, Avaldamon?”

“Two more won’t matter,” Avaldamon said.

Maximilian shrugged, then smiled. “I am sure I shall not be sorry to have you.”

Then he turned to Avaldamon. “Avaldamon, how precisely does Elcho Falling transfer us? Will it eject us like it did the One and the Lealfast?”

“No,” said Avaldamon. “Tonight we use a gentler method, one that can deliver us precisely to the place we want, if it can’t actually get us back again.”

“I learned of this only briefly in the Twisted Tower,” Maximilian said. “Mostly I concentrated on the knowledge I needed to raise Elcho Falling.”

“This method is just one of Elcho Falling’s lesser known abilities. All you need do, Maxel, is ask of it what you need, and it shall provide. But —”

“Ah,” Maximilian and Ishbel said together, and Avaldamon chuckled.

“But,” he said, “there is a small price, if you can call it that. It is a matter of balances. Elcho Falling can transfer us to DarkGlass Mountain, but it will need to transfer something back. It will need to know what you want as a counterbalance, Maxel.”

Maximilian frowned. “What did the One counterbalance with in transferring here?”

“He used the Dark Spire, not Elcho Falling,” Avaldamon said. “He needed no counterbalance.”

“I need to pick something at DarkGlass Mountain? In the immediate area?”

“Something reasonably close by, but not perhaps in the immediate area.”

“Does it need to come directly here to Elcho Falling?” Ishbel said. “Or just somewhere ’reasonably close by‘ ?”

“What are you thinking, Ishbel?” Maximilian said.

“Avaldamon?” Ishbel said.

“Reasonably close by would do it,” Avaldamon said.

“How close is ’reasonably‘ ?” Ishbel said.

“For the gods’ sakes,” Avaldamon said. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“Somewhere between Elcho Falling and, say, Margalit,” Ishbel said.

Maximilian’s mouth curved up in a slow smile. “Isaiah.”

“Yes,” said Ishbel, returning his smile. “Isaiah. I think I have thought of a way to aid him. There is something I had heard from the Goblet of the Frogs. Something about Lake Juit.”

She looked again at Avaldamon. “Is it possible?”

“Yes,” he said, “I know what you want to do, and yes, it is possible. I think Elcho Falling might rather enjoy it.” Again he chuckled. “As would the inhabitants of Lake Juit.”

“We should perhaps warn Axis, as well as Isaiah,” Ishbel said.

“Axis can find out in his own good time,” Maximilian said, “and Isaiah . . . well . . . I am sure Isaiah has had to cope with worse surprises in his past.”

“Lake Juit it shall be then,” Avaldamon said.

“Do you think they are actually speaking a different language,” Serge remarked to Doyle, “or is it just me who cannot fathom a word of what they say?”