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.’
    ‘What are you thinking, bhaiya?’
    ‘Well . . . remember when we were trying to figure out how the Scytale worked? We used some of the monks as research subjects, to try out our ideas about the recipe variations? I’ve still got all those notes; all I’m missing is that key ingredient. If she tells us what it is, if we can make up the recipe, perhaps we could return to Khojana Mandira and see if the monks are willing to become Ascendant magi and help us fight Malevorn and Huriya.’
    Ramita’s eyes went round as saucers. ‘But they are Zains ! They are sworn to peace!’
    Alaron dropped his voice. ‘Shhh. I know. But Yash would do it, for one – we know he wanted to be a mage before he wanted to be a monk.’
    ‘But Huriya and Malevorn have the Scytale – they could make hundreds of magi.’
    ‘That’s true, but don’t forget they’d run the risk of losing control of the Scytale if they did that. I suspect they’ll have the same problem we had: they won’t know how to use it, and there’s no one they can trust to help them decode it. I reckon we’ve still got time to hunt them down before they use it, but we’re going to need help.’
    Ramita stroked Das’ head, then said decisively, ‘Let us do so then.’
    Sweet Heaven above, we’re about to make a deal with Hel’s Whore herself . . .
    Ramita seized his hand. ‘Alaron, I’ve not had the chance . . . Thank you . You gave up the Scytale for my son, and I’ll never forget that, bhaiya, not for as long as I live. You are a true brother to me.’
    He dropped his gaze. ‘No. I failed you.’
    ‘No, bhaiya,’ she told him earnestly, ‘that you most certainly did not!’

2
    The Emperor’s Great Prize
    The Ambrosia
The greatest secret of the Empire is the formula for the ambrosia, the potion used to raise the Blessed Three Hundred to the gnosis. It is encrypted into the Scytale of Corineus, which was devised by Baramitius. It is said that the ambrosia will either kill you, or raise you to the ultimate gnostic power, but a third fate exists. Some become Souldrinkers, which is another form of death.
O RDO C OSTRUO C OLLEGIATE, P ONTUS, 772
    Northern Lakh, on the continent of Antiopia
    Rami (Septinon) 929
    15 th month of the Moontide
    The slope below Malevorn Andevarion fell toward a barren plain somewhere north of Teshwallabad, where small herds of cattle wandered seeking water or shade, neither of which were evident to his eye. With Huriya’s Dokken, he’d fled the city after the battle for the Scytale of Corineus – the battle I won , he crowed silently as he moved his left hand to stroke the travel-worn leather satchel containing the artefact, reassuring himself it was still there. His right hand remained firmly on his sword-hilt as he ran his eye over his travelling companions.
    A dozen or more shapeshifters had entered the Mughal Dome, but only he and Huriya had emerged alive to join the six or seven who had been standing guard outside, led by the Lokistani archer-woman Hessaz, now the only other female left. Her hair was barely a stubble, and she was bony with dark, leathery skin. Lokistan was a mountainous land that bred hard, insular people like her. She was freshly widowed, and Malevorn pitied whatever man was stupid enough to go near her next. These few were all who remained of a hundred-strong Dokken shapeshifter pack, and they looked shattered, both physically and mentally.
    Huriya Makani was sitting in their midst: a tiny Keshi girl with the Ascendant-strength gnosis she’d gained by drinking the soul of the Dokken seeress Sabele. She might look like a sexy little bint – even if she was a mudskin – but as he had discovered to his cost, looks could be deceptive. She was the only one of the pack he feared. She was holding an infant, one of the twins of Antonin Meiros and his Lakh peasant wife. Mercer had the other, traded for the Scytale.
    The weak-minded fool! I’d have fought to the death to keep the Scytale.
    It was