The Twilight herald

'Narkang is ready, and the Farlan are even more powerful than the Chetse,' Doranei objected.

Koezh turned to the young man with an amused expression. 'Narkang is ready? Narkang was saved only by a stroke of fortune, so I hear. If the White Circle had taken the king and his city, your precious Three Cities would have quickly followed. As for the Farlan, years of unrest have weakened them, and now their greatest leader in a thousand years is dead. In Lord Bahl's place they have a young man said to have the fury of a storm ru

Zhia smiled as her brother gave Doranei a condescending pat on the shoulder and gestured towards the stage beyond. Now be quiet and watch the play. A little culture will do you good.'

With the briefest of touches on her gloved fingertips, Koezh left soundlessly. That was their way. Experience had taught them that their encounters should be brief and tender, else arguments break out, with dramatic consequences. Zhia was actually ahead in those slakes, having murdered her brother three times now, but they had long ago agreed that the novelty of killing each other had worn off and it was too much of an irritation to do so merely out of pique.

He would do as she asked; Scree was her affair now and he WOULDN'T interfere. As the Land edged closer to the brink of ruin and change flickered across the skies, they both knew this might be their best chance.

Zhia smiled.

CHAPTER 18

A wall of cloud surrounded the city, obscuring the moons and stars. Jackdaw could sense it enveloping the city, drawn by one man's call. The streets simmered in an u

How long since I felt the breeze? he wondered. It must be just a few days, yet the memory feels more like a dream. From their high station, looking down on the dark bulk of the theatre, he could feel the heaviness in the air, a building storm that had refused to break, but instead lingered with sullen obstinacy, prickling the hairs on his neck. The sudden downpours of early summer had stopped, leaving the population panting like dogs and staring up at the sky with pleading eyes.

The taste of blood persisted in his mouth. He'd bitten his tongue in surprise when that bully from Narkang had crept up on him earlier. Ilumene's mocking grin had shone out from the shadows when he had least expected it. He probed the cut, wincing at the sting, but persisting, because in some strange way it reminded him he was still alive. Was it pain to drive away the numb aching in his heart, or just a reminder that he was human, with a human's foibles? But every time he fell the cut, he saw the blood, the man's life spilled out onto the stage, the final bitter act of their latest play.

'Now,' Rojak a

'We are entertaining Scree with a fine barbed comedy, do you not think?'

Jackdaw said nothing. The play was mildly amusing, in a gross, simplistic way, but the initial humour was soured by the murder at the very end. Though Jackdaw – like the whole city, it appeared – had known it was coming, the sight of so much blood had sickened him. He'd turned his head away as the criminal plucked from the city gaol had howled and flopped around on the stage, interrupting the play by his refusal to die quickly. Ilumene, eyes glinting with fierce delight, had pointed out the anonymous figure of King Emin as the audience shuffled out in a cowed silence. The king's face had been as dark as thunder. The man from Narkang had not said why he hated his king so deeply, and Jackdaw was afraid to ask. Ilumene constantly hovered on the brink of savagery; the man's handsome features invariably twisted into a cruel scowl at the very mention of this king.

Thinking about Ilumene's hatred brought Jackdaw full circle back to the hateful play. Already the stallholders surrounding the theatre were lost to the spell carved into the timbers of the theatre's wall as it was being constructed. A few continued to work, scarcely even aware of their motions but driven by long-ingrained habit, but the rest had taken to roaming the streets muttering about ghosts, already lost to the madness. They were feeling the bitterness and gloom that echoed from the play's every line and washed out over the city by the minstrel's magic. Just the previous morning he'd listened to a fruit-seller, muttering to himself, hands clasped together, head twitching nervously, staring down at the feet of those passing by. He was terribly afraid that the man had been quoting a line of prophecy, from 'The Twilight Reign': Six temples, empty and crumbling – darkness heralded by song and flame.

Lost in his thoughts, Jackdaw almost missed Rojak's question, until Ilumene turned slowly to face him, his dagger hanging loose from his fingers as always. The edge was razor-sharp, but somehow Ilumene never nicked himself, even as he spun the blade through his fingers. The cuts and scars covering his hands were all intentionally inflicted; the only time Ilumene seemed to notice the knife in his hands was when he was slicing a new pattern into his own skin.

Quickly Jackdaw muttered something congratulatory, desperate to get Ilumene's eyes off him. Rojak smiled at his words and affected a preening of his clothes. If the man had not filled Jackdaw with such creeping dread, it might have looked comical. The minstrel's clothes were worn and tatty, and he gave off a stench of putrid flesh, for his body was rotting from the inside out. Soon he would be dead, but until then his awful prescience and u

'And what is a vital ingredient of all comedic works?'

Jackdaw frowned, trying to find the right answer, but even the words of the script refused to be pi

'A mistaken identity, of course,' trilled Rojak, for all the world as if they were having a sparkling conversation, 'with the inevitable humorous results.'

Humorous? I doubt anyone but Humene would find them fu

Rojak peered over the edge of the rooftop they were stood on, look¬ing intently down at the empty street below. And as it happens, we know someone who is desperately seeking a face in the crowd, don't we, Ilumene?'

'We do, and it would be rude to disappoint the man,' Ilumene purred in agreement. 'Especially when he was like a father to me for so many years.'

Whenever Ilumene spoke, it u