Rings marked with mystical runes encircled his fingers. Kormak could not help but notice that one of the amulets was of wraithstone and contained thin filaments of darkness. It was there to protect against the influence of evil magic and blight. Kormak carried a similar one himself.

“You really are a Guardian, aren’t you?” the man said.

“I really am.”

The man’s thin lips twisted into a wan smile.“I thought as much. Even if Count Arald can’t tell a real elder sign, I can. And that is a dwarf-forged blade on your shoulder, isn’t it?”

“You already know that.”

The man coughed. It sounded like a lot of phlegm was moving within his chest. “Curious. A Guardian of the Dawn showing up here tonight.”

“In what way?”

“I was just thinking that these festivities have almost tipped over the edge into blasphemy.”

“Drunkenness and licentiousness perhaps but hardly blasphemy.”

The priest looked at him. “You are sure of that.”

“I am not a great expert on Church law.”

“Nor can I claim to be. I trained in other matters.”

“You are an Initiate of the Mysteries, aren’t you? A sorcerer.”

The man glanced up at Kormak, covered his mouth, coughed again and then looked around as if he feared they might be overheard. Kormak was not sure why. It would have been obvious to anyone given the number of magical adjuncts the man was wearing. Then again maybe not. Everyone was drunk and pretending to be something other than they were. “I have that honour although, alas, I cannot claim to be a very powerful one.”

The man sounded uneasy. It was unsurprising. Even Church-sanctioned sorcerers tended to be nervous around members of his order. They were brought up to be. The Order of the Dawn was one way the Prelates of the Holy Sun kept their mages in line.

Kormak studied the man. His skin seemed sallow and yellowish in the torchlight. His face was lined and his eyes sunken. He looked like someone not-quite-recovered from a long illness. “What brings you to the Governor’s fancy dress ball?”

“Governor Aurin invites every man of the cloth. I think it is a form of insurance for his soul.”

“You believe he is a man in need of such a thing?”

“Ah—that is more like it—a leading question put in an inquisitorial tone. I was just thinking you were remarkably polite for a Guardian.” There was a note of sour humour in the mage’s voice and a hint of animosity. Kormak was used to the latter from wizards, if not the former.

“It seems everyone here tonight thinks I am playing a part.”

“And why should you not? Everyone else is.”

“Including yourself?”

“Much as I would like to claim otherwise, I must confess it to it. I disapprove of these people and their behaviour and yet I am here.”

“You said this was blasphemous, how so?”

“Look at the costumes. They celebrate the Old Ones.”

“They are hardly the first to do so.”

“This festival used to be celebrated by the natives. As part of the Lunar rites.