Dryness scratched at Erlaan's throat and crusted his eyes. He was lying on his back, on something hard, in a place with no light. He could smell nothing, nostrils blocked. He tried to lick his lips, but there was no moisture at all. He reached up to his face with a hand that felt like lead, fingers rubbing at his eyes.

  Prising one eyelid open, Erlaan looked at a ceiling of yellow stone blocks. The air seemed yellow too; strange light ebbed from his right, like the glow of a lamp wick but more sickly, lacking any kind of warmth. Turning his head, Erlaan saw a slitlike window. He could see nothing outside, only a sliver of pulsating light.

  Still lacking the strength to sit up, he turned his head in the other direction. On his left, someone else was lying on a slab of stone, level with him. He dully recognised his father, Prince Kalmud, a layer of white dust coating his skin. With much effort, Erlaan lifted his hand again and saw the same chalk-like substance covering him. It was like the powder used inside the moulds he had seen used to make slabs of wax for writing.

  He tried to remember how he had arrived here. The last thing he could recall was being called to the throne room by his grandfather, King Lutaar. Most of the palace staff had been there, along with Udaan, the Chief Brother. Lutaar had told them all that General Ullsaard had breached the Askhan Wall and was marching on the city.

  Kalmud was very sick.

  The memory came back in a flash. Erlaan's father could barely walk, and Udaan had helped him up from his bier as the guards and servants listened to the king's instructions. There was to be a calm and efficient evacuation. The throne chamber had emptied slowly, until only the king, his son, his grandson and Udaan had been left behind.

  His father had said something that Erlaan had not heard. The king had smiled and shaken his head.

  "The Brotherhood will take care of you both," he had said.

  More Brothers had entered, silver-masked and cowled in black, and taken Kalmud away. Udaan had asked Erlaan to stand up and he had done so. Then the Chief Brother had done something with his hands, and Erlaan could remember nothing more.

  Erlaan realised he was neither hot nor cold, though he lay naked without any sheet or blanket. Feeling was returning to his limbs, bringing strength. He sat up.

  The room was square, no more than ten paces to a wall, and save for the tiny window the only other opening was an archway beyond which Erlaan could only see more of the same yellow stone receding into the distance. He tried to swing his feet to the floor but failed, his vigour not yet wholly returned.

  He lay back and caught his breath, surprised by how much he had exerted himself. Every breath seemed to stick in his lungs and he coughed hard, tasting more of the dust in his mouth. Raising a hand to his cheek, he rubbed away some of the patina on his skin, feeling no stubble beneath his fingertips. He was as freshly shaven as he'd been in the throne room, but had the strangest sense that time had passed, as if waking from an unplanned sleep only to find the next watch had chimed even though it felt like only moments had passed.

  With a grunt, he tried again to push himself upright. He managed to move himself to a sitting position on the edge of the slab. As sensation returned, it brought with it a dull ache, which reached down into his joints and bones.

  On wobbling legs, Erlaan stood and tottered across the small chamber, his head almost brushing the ceiling despite his weak stoop. He steadied himself with a hand on the edge of his father's slab and bent closer. He could hear breath whistling through Kalmud's slightly parted lips and sighed with relief.

  The chamber had all the appearance and feeling of a tomb; though the window was strange for a mausoleum. Confidence growing, Erlaan pushed himself up and took a step towards the window to see what was outside.

  "That would not be advisable, prince."

  The cracked voice caused Erlaan to turn towards the door. A short man stood in the archway. He was naked, devoid of all hair. His whole body was emaciated, bony joints sticking out through thin flesh. Eyes bulged in their sockets and glinted strangely in the light. Most remarkable was the covering of scars and tattoos that crawled across the man's skin; swirls and spirals that made Erlaan's eyes ache to follow them, connecting and broken by strange symbols.

  Erlaan glanced back to the window and then focussed on the man, trying not to stare into those metallic-looking eyes.

  "You have lots of questions," said the man before Erlaan could speak. "Let me answer some of them. My name is Asirkhyr. I am one of the chief acolytes of the temple where you now stand. You are safe."

  Erlaan looked at Kalmud, and again Asirkhyr spoke before the prince could ask the question.

  "Your father is no better and no worse than he was when you left Askh. The journey here has been a strain for both of you. I cannot explain how you came to be here in terms you will understand, but it takes a toll on the mind and body. You father's ill health means it will take longer for him to recover, and he may not recover at all."

  Shaking his head, Erlaan sat down. He stared at Asirkhyr for a long time before opening his mouth to speak. Once more, the man cut him off.

  "We are a priesthood, the founders of the organisation you know as the Brotherhood. The one you have known recently as Udaan will be here shortly to tell you more."

"I need water, and something to eat."

  Asirkhyr looked startled by the question. He took a moment to compose himself before replying.

  "There is no food and no water in the temple. We do not need these things to sustain ourselves. You will not need them either. Please, rest for a while longer prince, and do not look out of the window."

  The man turned sharply on his heels and stalked away, disappearing down the corridor. Erlaan toyed with the idea of ignoring Asirkhyr's warning and glanced up at the window. The strange light that seemed to seep like oil through the gap in the stones put Erlaan on edge.

  He decided it was better not to investigate and lay back on the slab, clasping his hands across his chest. As soon as he closed his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep, free from thought and dreams.