Ullsaard awoke in the pavilion, alone.

  "Is that it?" he asked. His voice echoed oddly from the tent walls. He tried to stand but was paralysed. Panic swelled up. "Lakhyri? What have you done to me?"

  There was no reply, save for his owns words ringing oddly around.

  "Guards!"

  Again there was no response. He was utterly alone. Paying more attention, Ullsaard saw that the flames in the braziers did not move, frozen in mid-flicker. There was no sound of the wind, no tramp of patrolling legionnaires, no strum of rope or slap of canvas. All was still, and he wondered if he had called out at all or if the sound had been only inside his head.

  "How remarkable." He recognised Askhos's voice immediately. The tent flap pulled back and the dead king strode in; for the moment the door was open Ullsaard thought he glimpsed a backdrop of stars as he had seen from Askhos's tomb. The First King was dressed as if for a full ceremonial audience in an embroidered gown, gold necklaces and bracelets hanging heavily, beard and hair curled and oiled.

  Ullsaard felt a light touch upon his right shoulder and found he could move. He looked up and saw Lakhyri standing behind the chair. The priest glanced at him only for a moment before staring at his brother. Ullsaard looked between the two and found little resemblance; perhaps the line of the jaw and nose but nothing else. Where the king was broad, fulsome and well fed, Lakhyri was a shrivelled husk, at least a head shorter.

  "So it is true," said the priest, coming around the chair to examine Askhos more closely. "What a vain man you can be, brother, clinging onto this vision of your best days."

  "While your desiccation is no less a badge of honour?" replied the dead king. "You wear your withered flesh no less proudly than I wear this appearance. Both are who we are."

  "You faltered," said Lakhyri with an accusing glare. "You lost sight of what we set out to achieve and dallied in your duty."

  "The problem of an immortal existence, one where I get to live again and again properly, not like the half-life you eke out, is that it becomes harder and harder to bring about its end."

  "Our masters would gr–"

  "We're not here for a fucking family gathering!" rasped Ullsaard. "Keep your bickering for another time. Get on with it, Lakhyri. What happens next?"

  "I must leave you for a moment," said the priest. "I shall return."

  With that said, Lakhyri faded away. Ullsaard glowered at Askhos.

  "Your childhood must have been very fucked up," said Ullsaard.

  A low reclining seat appeared and Askhos lowered himself into it, one arm behind his head.

  "You cannot comprehend the lives we used to lead, Ullsaard," said the First King. "Yet it was not so different in some ways. We had a loving mother and a proud father, and a sister, though she drowned in a river when we were barely old enough to know her."

  "And you decided one day that you didn't like the idea of dying and so you started to inhabit the bodies of your children while Lakhyri… well, does whatever it is he does to keep alive."

  "We found something that opened our eyes to a wider world," said Askhos. "The Temple, ageless and ancient even when we came upon it. What happened next is not important. It sustained us and those who joined with us. I was once as Lakhyri is; perhaps a little less scrawny."

  "I cannot pretend to understand how any of this is possible."

  "How could you? It is as far from your experience as the life of a man is for an insect. At its heart it is a very simple thing. The physical world, the one you see and hear and touch and breathe and fornicate in, is but one part of a much larger world. There are gaps between everything, where the essence of life exists, where dreams are made. Its power is limited only by the span of the universe itself. We all live here too, but only from what we learned in the Temple were Lakhyri and I able to see it, to consciously explore it."

  "And what is your brother up to now? Has he gone exploring?"

  "I believe he has," said Askhos, shifting his weight and bringing his hands to his lap. "From what he said earlier, I think he has gone to look for Noran."

  "Noran is here?" Ullsaard sat up and looked around, and felt foolish for doing so. He slouched back with embarrassment. "Here, in your world between worlds."

  "His essence, his mind, his life, whatever you wish to call it, is separate from his physical state. He is not dead, and so that force that is Noran must still be here."

  "It sounds like a big place," said Ullsaard. "It could take some time to find him."

  "It is massive and yet tiny, that is one of its charms," Askhos said with a wistful smile. "The whole of everything within a grain of sand; yet also in every grain of sand and speck of dust and pore upon your skin. Everywhere is everywhere if you know how to walk properly."

  Saying nothing, Ullsaard crossed his arms and legs and waited. He knew he was not an educated man, but he had never lacked for cleverness. He had learned quickly his lessons, though they were of a practical rather than philosophical nature. For all that, the things Lakhyri and Askhos told him were very confusing; he suspected he would never get any better explanation from either of them. There was one question that nagged at him as he sat tapping a finger against his arm, trying to be patient.

  "The Blood," he said, startling Askhos who had closed his eyes. "I understand it is your link from generation to generation, through the Crown somehow. But what is so special about it? A man's seed carries him into his sons and daughters, not his blood."

  Askhos smiled at the question and sat up, suddenly animated.

  "Our bodies are but one thing given different forms," said the dead king. "Blood, seed, muscle, bone, all of it springing from the same place. We call it the Blood, but it is in everything that makes us, from the hair on our heads to the nails on our toes. The Blood we share is not the blood of normal men; not wholly the blood of men at all."

  "You'll be spewing Salphorian myths about spirits coming down and fucking women in their sleep," laughed Ullsaard. "Your Brotherhood dispelled all of that myth. Talk sense."

  "Myth is not the same as fact, Ullsaard," said Askhos. "The Brotherhood seeks to expunge superstition, legend, because it is a fabrication. Yet they are perhaps stories based upon truth, on tales first told by our most distant ancestors. They are corruptions of the truth, but they lead to questions that men should not ask. Our Blood comes not from men, but from something else."

  Ullsaard was about to challenge this when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw Noran lying on the rugs beside the chair, eyes closed, hands folded neatly to his chest. He appeared fresh-skinned and healthy, with none of the deathly pallor Ullsaard had seen when he had last visited his friend.

  Seeming to step from the shadows cast by a brazier, Lakhyri reappeared, stooping down to lay his fingertips upon Noran's brow.

  "Join us," the priest whispered.

  Noran awoke with a gasp and looked around with frantic eyes for a moment before springing to his feet. His words were incoherent as he staggered a few paces, eyes roving until they fell upon the king.

  "Ullsaard!" Noran seemed startled by the sound of his own voice, which was as mellow and enunciated as it had been before his injuries. "Ullsaard?"

  The king jumped up and embraced his friend with a laugh. Noran lifted up his hands and examined them, wiggling his fingers with a smirk. The smile faded and he pulled from Ullsaard's arms.

  "This does not feel right," said Noran. He looked around the pavilion room, eyes fearful. They stopped when they fell upon Lakhyri. "What are you?"

  "Questions can wait," said the high priest. "Time is now being counted, Ullsaard. I have recovered your friend's essence from the pit into which it had fallen, but to do so I draw on the strength of your body. Every beat of Noran's heart steals one from you."

  "What does he mean?" said Noran. As he turned back to the king, he spied Askhos on the couch and gave a delirious giggle. "Do you know who you look like?"

  "It doesn't sound like we have much time for explanations," said Ullsaard, grabbing his friend by the shoulders to gain his attention. "Think of this as a dream. That is King Askhos, and this is Lakhyri, the founder of the Brotherhood. You have been brought here to help me."

  "How?" asked Noran. Ullsaard looked to Lakhyri for the answer.

  "Outside of your dream, your body is in an unwaking sleep," said the priest. "You are in Magilnada with two of Ullsaard's wives and are being held hostage."

  "Hostage?"

  "Concentrate, Noran, please," said Ullsaard. "Listen to Lakhyri but save your questions."

  The high priest waited for a moment, until Noran nodded that he was ready to continue.

  "Anglhan had turned against your king, and to stop Ullsaard from taking back the city he threatens your life and that of Allenya and Meliu." Ullsaard frowned and raised a finger to silence Noran as he looked to speak again. Lakhyri carried on in a patient tone. "I will allow Ullsaard to give up some of his life to restore yours. Do not ask how; know only that it can be done. Through me, his energy will pass from his body into this dream and from this dream into your body, restoring some of your strength. You will revive and when you do so, you must escape the city with your queens."

  Noran nodded uncertainly.

  "I don't know if you are free to move around, if you're imprisoned, in Anglhan's palace or anything else," said Ullsaard. "Nobody expects you to recover, and you must use that surprise to free Allenya if you can. I have troops outside the city, in disguise near the city gate, who will escort you here once you are out of Magilnada."

  "Right," said Noran. "Lots of questions, no time. I understand, I think. So, what happens now?"