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your life for us?’
    Slave shrugged, uninterested in talking with this man. He was intrigued by the odd fading of the rage he had felt when he dropped the Claw. Were the Claw and his rage linked? If so, how?
    Slowly, Slave reached out and took up the weapon. It was cool to the touch, smooth and hard. He wrapped his fingers around the carved grip and raised it to his face.
    â€˜Never seen one of those,’ the tall slave said.
    â€˜Not many around,’ Slave replied.
    â€˜My name’s Korbinian.’
    â€˜Slave.’
    â€˜Not any more, I don’t think,’ Korbinian said.
    Slave did not respond, instead preferring to rock back on his heels and continue contemplating his only possession in the world. Not even the sound of Korbinian’s approaching feet distracted him.
    â€˜What is that?’ Korbinian asked.
    â€˜Warrior’s Claw,’ he said, without raising his eyes.
    â€˜You’re fast with it,’ Korbinian commented. ‘Until you dropped it.’
    Slave grunted, wondering again about the rage and this weapon. How could they be linked?
    â€˜You don’t say much, do you?’ Korbinian said.
    Slave raised his eyes to stare at Korbinian, waiting for the flinch as the former slave caught the full impact of the silver eye. He did not merely flinch, but actually took a step backwards while raising his hands defensively.
    â€˜Are you the Beq?’ Korbinian whispered.
    â€˜The what?’
    â€˜The Beq, who will come before.’
    â€˜Before what?’
    Korbinian dropped to his knees. ‘I have heard of you, the Scarred Man, the Beq. Stories of Vogel, of the Place …’ His voice tailed off as Slave rose from his crouch. ‘Why are you here, Beq?’
    Slave shook his head and began to walk away.
    But Korbinian sprang to his feet to grab Slave’s arm.
    â€˜Beq? Why have you saved us, just to leave us here to die?’
    Slave tried to shake the hand off, but Korbinian held tight. ‘You are nothing to me,’ Slave snarled. ‘Go your own way.’
    â€˜We will follow you, Beq,’ Korbinian said, releasing Slave’s arm and dropping again to his knees. ‘It is better to be at the left arm of chaos than in its way.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    Korbinian lowered his face onto the icy ground. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with fear. ‘The great Revenant has risen. We of the visions have known it, and feared it. The Tahir of our clan has seen a strange thing — the Beq who comes before bears the mark of the Great Revenant, but follows it not. The Beq will raise the Revenant’s Claw, show its army the way, release the Revenant, but will be surrounded by peace.’
    â€˜Ha!’ burst out Slave. ‘I cannot be this Beq. I know no peace.’
    â€˜Being surrounded by peace is not the same thing as knowing peace.’
    Slave hesitated, turned and stood over Korbinian, looking down at the man’s back. ‘I don’t understand any of what you are saying,’ he admitted finally. ‘But I think I should.’ He stooped and gripped the man’s shoulder. ‘Would you walk with me a while? You can tell me about the Revenant.’
    Korbinian rose slowly. At full height, he towered over Slave. With his pale skin, brown eyes and dark hair, he looked not unlike Ileki. ‘I will walk with you, Beq,’ he said.
    â€˜Call me Slave.’
    Korbinian nodded. ‘The others?’ He gestured at the other released slaves. They were standing motionless, watching the exchange.
    â€˜What about them? They are free to do whatever they want.’
    â€˜They are all my clan.’ Korbinian turned away to stare at them. ‘They are all that is left of my clan. Can they come with us?’
    Slave shrugged and started to walk south, towards Leserlang. If they wanted to follow, it was their decision.
    â€˜The Great Revenant,’ Korbinian started, ‘was summoned by the