Axis sat sipping the cup of tea one of the shepherds had given him, watching Inardle as she pushed away her blanket and slowly managed to sit up. She was obviously very stiff and, from her numerous winces, still in a fair amount of pain. Axis said nothing, lowering his eyes when she glanced his way, and waited until she, too, had accepted with thanks a cup of tea. He remembered how once he’d had to remind her to thank his body servant, Yysell, for making her a cup of tea, and reflected that at least she’d learned some manners since then.

Then Axis considered what an ungenerous thought that had been. “You are still very sore,” he said.

She glanced at him, rapidly dropping her eyes to her tea. “Yes.”

“But better?”

“Yes.” A hesitation. “I will be able to close the wounds myself now.”

Axis bit back a grin at the tightness in her voice. “Is the poison all gone?”

“Yes. Isaiah . . . I don’t know how he managed what he did. Or why he wanted to.”

“Not everyone hates you, Inardle.”

That produced a long awkward silence, and Axis berated himself for his words.

“Inardle .”

“Yes?”

“Inardle, I am sorry for what I said yesterday. About you being able to heal yourself.”

“You did not know about the poison.” Another pause. “And you had every right to say that, based on my previous behaviour.”

Axis drank another mouthful of tea, grateful for the prop. Had any conversation with Azhure ever been this awkward? It was too long ago to remember.

“I am famous for my inability to apologise gracefully, Inardle.”

“We both have a great deal to apologise for, perhaps, Axis. But I do not want to start a score sheet.”

Axis almost remarked on why he could understand her not wanting to start a score sheet on their various wrongdoings, but managed to stop himself. “I already have enough women keeping score sheets against me, Inardle. Please don’t add yours to the crowd.”

She smiled. It was a slow thing, but genuine, and it relaxed her entire body. “No score sheet, then.”

They descended into yet another clumsy silence, saved only by Isaiah who wandered up looking overly fit, handsome and altogether too pleased with himself.

“We should start as soon as you are ready,” he said. “Inardle . . . you cannot fly, not yet.”

“I can heal myself now, Isaiah. A moment’s work only, once I have finished my tea.”

“Nonetheless you are still very weak from the poison. You’ll need to share Axis’ horse as we do not have a spare. Most of your horses scattered during the Lealfast attack, Axis, and we only managed to catch the one you were riding. So I am afraid it means you’ll have to share a horse . . . unless you want to borrow a sheep from the shepherds.”

Then, bestowing his broadest grin on both Inardle and Axis, he walked off again.

They rode for three hours before they caught up with Isaiah’s army and the following Skraeling horde. The ride, at least for Axis and Inardle, was as awkward as their morning conversation had been. They did not speak a word throughout it, Inardle keeping her hands light on Axis’ waist, and her body leaning back so that they touched as little as possible.

By the time they sighted the army, Axis had vowed to himself a thousand times over that he must always keep at least one spare horse on hand.

When they were some three hundred paces away, Isaiah signalled them to slow back to a walk.

“I want to talk to the Skraelings first. Axis, let me take the lead here.”

Axis had no problems with that. This was the first time he’d seen Skraelings since he’d battled them so long ago when they were vowed to his ghastly half-brother, Gorgrael.

Then they had been so vile, so hated . . . such a nightmare. They had wreaked havoc and murdered too many of his friends and people.

Axis found his stomach clenching, his entire body tensing, as they approached the wraith army trailing the Isembaardians.

Stars, they looked so different. Most of them sported jackal heads, while others had malformed into grotesque horrors.

And half of Inardle’s blood was this .

“I dislike being their kin too, Axis,” Inardle murmured behind him, and he gave a curt nod. He was glad he didn’t have to speak to them.

Isaiah signalled the group to a halt as one of the Skraelings peeled away from the horde and made his way toward them. “Just myself, Axis and Inardle will talk with the Skraeling,” he said. “The rest of you can rejoin your units.”

His men nodded, peeling off to canter toward the Isembaardians.

Isaiah watched them go, then looked at Axis and Inardle. “Whatever happens here,” he said, “let me do the talking. It may seem strange to you, but I have my reasons.”

Axis and Inardle nodded.

The creature approached with a lumbering gait, and Axis’ face twisted in revulsion. It was huge, twice as large as any Skraeling he’d ever seen before, and its swollen, lumpy face was so grossly misshapen that its silver eyes, sitting on one side of its face, were actually set one above the other.

It is repulsive, Inardle said in his mind, and he gave another nod, not daring, or trusting himself, to speak.

The Skraeling stopped a good ten paces away, looking at Axis rather than Isaiah.

“You bring the StarMan?” it hissed from the slit of its mouth, spittle oozing down in a winding rope from one corner.

“And you will note he brings no army with him,” Isaiah said. “Surely you cannot be afraid of just one StarMan. He will not harm you. He answers to me.”

Axis closed his eyes briefly at that. Oh, how the Skraeling would rejoice, thinking the StarMan was now under the command of another.

“We have come with a proposition for you,” Isaiah said, and the Skraeling grinned.

“You want to surrender?” he said.

“You think I would surrender to you?” Isaiah said, and something either in Isaiah’s voice or in his face made the Skraeling, literally, cringe.

“Do you know who I am?” Isaiah said to the Skraeling.

“You are Isaiah, once Tyrant of Isembaard, once ally of our Lord, Lister.”

“Now long gone and well forgotten,” said Isaiah. “But, yes, mostly you are correct. One or two omissions but we can skip past those for now. My friend Skraeling . . . ah, I cannot keep calling you that. You know my name, now I crave to know yours. I would parley and for that I need your name.”

“My name?” Momentarily taken aback, the Skraeling blinked slowly, a bulbous blue-tinged tongue rolling out to lick its lips.

“Your name, friend,” said Isaiah.

“Well,” said the Skraeling, “you may call me —”

“Your mystery name,” said Isaiah, and Axis felt Inardle tense and draw in a sharp breath.

What is it? Axis said to her.

How does Isaiah know of the Skraelings’ mystery names?

What are —

I will explain later. Listen, for now.

The Skraeling cringed back a step. Then he straightened and stared defiantly at Isaiah. “I shall not give it,” he said.

“Friend,” Isaiah said, “I ask in Veldmr’s name and with an authority far greater than his. Tell me your mystery name. I command it.”

Axis thought the Skraeling boggled so hard at Isaiah that his silver orbs would actually detach themselves from their sockets and fall to the ground.

Who was Veldmr? Axis wondered.

“It . . . ” the Skraeling whispered. “It is . . . ”

“Yes?” Isaiah said.

“It is .” The Skraeling glanced at Axis and Inardle.

“Neither Axis nor Inardle will speak it without my permission,” Isaiah said. “Tell me.”

“It is Ozll,” the Skraeling whispered, and Isaiah smiled.

“Friend Ozll, then. We shall meet this evening, when I have eaten and refreshed myself. I am sure we shall have much to discuss.”

Without another word, or even a glance at the Skraeling standing staring at him, Isaiah waved for Axis and Inardle to follow him, then kicked his horse toward his army.

“What is this mystery name thing?” Axis said to Inardle as he pushed their horse after Isaiah.

“All the Skraelings have what they call mystery names,” she said. “They never told them to the Lealfast and, frankly, I thought it was just some means they had dreamed up to make themselves feel important. Every time they wanted to appear enigmatic and self-important, they’d carry on about their ’mystery names’. I have no idea how Isaiah knew about them. I also had no idea the damned creatures actually did have them.”

“Maybe friend Ozll made it up on the spot.”

“Maybe,” Inardle said, her voice doubtful.

They rode another few minutes, then Axis began to chuckle. “By the stars, Inardle, look what Isaiah has collected about himself. Such flummery!”

“What are they?”

“Juit birds,” Axis said. “I remember them from the time when Isaiah pulled me from the Otherworld. Not everything, but I do remember those birds.” He chuckled again. “Stars alone knows what they are doing keeping company with Isaiah, but suddenly I feel a great deal more cheerful.”

Ozll stood and watched them ride away, his mind and heart in turmoil.

Why had the water god wanted to know his mystery name?

Ozll quite suddenly felt they’d made a major mistake in not simply overwhelming the Isembaardian force and eating them to the ground before carrying on to Elcho Falling and whatever awaited there.

It had been a bad miscalculation to worry that the One might have secreted himself within the army. If the One had been within the Isembaardian army, then he would have made himself known to the Skraelings by now.

Nonetheless, when Ozll returned to his comrades, and they asked him what was happening, he replied simply, “Isaiah will speak with us this evening.”

He did not tell them that Isaiah had asked his mystery name, nor that Isaiah had invoked the name of Veldmr. None of the Skraelings could remember quite who Veldmr was, only that he was a great and revered figure from their past.

A past, some among the Skraeling whispered, that had had some beauty and power to it.

A past of mystery.