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there’s only a couple that haven’t come true, yet.’
    ‘So you say.’ Zabier came closer still, lowering his voice. ‘Charald swallowed your story about the Warrior god sending you back from the dead. That’s why the king wants you with him when he confronts the Wyrds.’
    Sorne looked up, horrified. He’d failed to warn the city. When Imoshen learned he was one of the king’s party, she’d think he’d betrayed her.
    ‘What?’ A nasty smile split Zabier’s face. ‘Afraid of full-bloods?’
    Sorne didn’t answer.
    ‘The king and his war barons were afraid, but I’ve convinced them malachite protects them from the silverheads’ gifts.’
    Sorne looked up. ‘Why would you tell them that?’
    ‘As long as they believe it helps, it does. Resisting the Wyrds’ gifts requires faith. I know more about silverhead power than any other True-man. More even than Oskane did. I’ve had fifty priests researching them. So don’t try to trick me. I know you didn’t sacrifice that full-blood. I know that when he took his body to the higher plane, he killed himself. What I don’t know is why.’ He eyed Sorne thoughtfully.
    Sorne had no intention of telling him.
    Zabier went on. ‘I know you are vulnerable to the full-bloods’ power because of your tainted blood. I know I am safer than you, as long as I don’t let them touch me, or come in contact with their blood. All these years the Wyrds have kept True-men at bay with the threat of their gifts, and it was mostly bluff. They’re really only powerful on the higher plane. And while they gift-work, their bodies are vulnerable here. Few silverheads have gifts that can be applied on the earthly plane. Now that we’ve called their bluff and their city is besieged, they want to talk terms.’
    Sorne nodded, trying to keep up. Neither Zabier nor the king knew that his allegiance lay with the Wyrds. He was in the perfect position to spy for Imoshen. ‘The Wyrds have no king. Who is negotiating terms?’
    ‘Their leaders have some sort of temporary king they call a causare. All you have to do is keep back, stay quiet and follow my lead.’
    They both glanced to the tent entrance, as King Charald called them. Sorne went to rise, but Zabier stopped him.
    ‘Don’t think I won’t hurt Valendia. She betrayed me. All these years I’ve kept her safe from True-men and Wyrds, pure and untainted, and then I find her in the arms of that... that filthy Wyrd.’ Zabier shuddered.
    Sorne had no trouble believing Zabier would hurt their sister. What amazed him was that Zabier had kept her safe until now, while sacrificingWyrds.
    Zabier went to a chest and selected a pile of malachite pendants. ‘Come on.’
    Outside, servants lit lanterns. Charald strode about in full armour like a man of twenty. Clearly in a good mood, he jested with his war barons as the men arrived with the royal banner. Everyone wanted to be one of the party for this historic moment. The barons had never liked Sorne, and it was only his ability to communicate with the Warrior that made him useful to the king. He’d been ‘dead’ for several years now and he didn’t know what alliances the barons had formed, so he hung back to observe.
    Someone caught Sorne’s arm in a firm grip. ‘There you are!’
    ‘Nitzane?’ Sorne drew him around the corner of the tent.
    Nitzane grinned. ‘I knew you were on a secret mission for the king. Didn’t I say so, when I ran into you in Navarone?’
    That was when Sorne had overheard Nitzane fail to convince his brother, the king of Navarone, to help him unseat King Charald. Nitzane believed Charald was behind the accident that killed his wife.
    Now that Nitzane got a good look at Sorne, his eyes widened. ‘Last time I saw you, the left side of your face was a mess of burn scars. Now it’s smooth as the rest of your face. When they said you’d come back from the dead, I wondered how you managed to convince them, but I see you’ve been up to your old tricks.’
    ‘I