You have killed more than a score of Eldrim in your time. You know how many mortals have done that? In all of recorded history—five. None but you in the past thousand years.” There was a note almost of awe in her voice.

“If I did not know better, I would say you sounded impressed.”

“I am impressed, Sir Kormak. More than you will ever know. It seems possible that you might even slay the Prince of Dragons when he comes for you.”

“You think it likely he will?”

“He is not one whose mind I would care to try and read, but yes, I think it likely. You represent too much of a challenge to his vanity. He cannot let you die of old age, or at the hand of another.”

“He has not seem bothered by the possibility before.”

“After tonight, things have changed. Some now reckon you the mightiest champion of the Sun in history, and he had a hand in making you so. If he does not rectify that mistake, he will be a laughing-stock as well as a figure of hatred among his people.”

“I doubt that will trouble him much.”

“You might be surprised, Sir Kormak. The vanity of the Old Ones is greater even than that of most mortals. And there are laws that bind even renegades like Adath Decurion.”

“None that stop him destroying the lives of innocent mortals, apparently.”

“Come, Sir Kormak, you should know the Old Ones don’t care much for such things.”

“Why do you serve them then?”

“I was born to serve them. As were all humanity.”

“That is not what scripture says.”

“Your scripture.”

“There is no other.”

“Do not play the fanatic. I know you are not.”

“Have you found out what you came for, said all you meant to say?”

“For the moment,” she said. “You have fought a battle few men could have survived. And I am detaining you.” She bowed her head and made a curious gesture with her right hand, which Kormak knew indicated respect among the Lunar aristocracy.

He shrugged his shoulders and marched towards the main wing of the palace.

Chapter Two

Kormak limped into the palace. He wanted nothing more than to get to his bed. From out of a nearby alcove, another familiar figure stalked towards him.

Frater Jonas was small and bird-like. Soot smudged his yellow robes. His eyes were hooded. Dark patches of fatigue showed beneath them as he smiled. “I saw you talking with the lovely Lady Marketa. Was she congratulating you on your triumph?”

Kormak stopped a few steps away from the priest. He liked Jonas but he did not trust him, and he knew just how quick the man could be with his poisoned daggers. It was not that he expected an attack; he just did not like to give anyone an advantage. “You look like I feel.”

“Would that I had done as much as you in the service of my king this night,” said Jonas.

“You did enough. I saw you in the Museum. You stood firm when others fled.”

Jonas gave a small shrug. “It is generous of you to say so, but I did nothing.”

“There is nothing much anyone can do against an Old One like Vorkhul.”

“You did more than a whole company of troops.”

“It’s something I was trained and equipped to deal with.”

Jonas fell into step beside Kormak. “I hear you have had words with the king and Prince Taran.”

“They want me to go to Terra Nova and look for more Old Ones.”

“And you do not want to go?”

Kormak shook his head. “I do not like being told I must do something by anyone other than the grand master of my order.”

Jonas smiled.