PROLOGUE

CAPHAS THE MERCHANT WAS FRIGHTENED AS THE STRANGER approached his campfire in the woods to the north of the capital. Caphas had picked the spot with care, in a hollow away from the road, so that his fire would not be seen. Although the civil war was now ended, so great had been the losses on both sides that there were few troops left to patrol the wildlands, where renegades and deserters looted and stole. The merchant had thought long and hard about this journey, but with so many of his colleagues too terrified to enter the lands of Naashan he had seen an opportunity for huge profits from his goods: silks from Chiatze and spices from Sherak and Gothir. Now, as the full moon shone over the hollow, those profits seemed a long way away.
The rider emerged from the tree line above the camp, and angled his horse down the slope. The man�s hairstyle - the lower part of the head shaved clean, the upper hair swept into a fierce crest -showed him to be a Naashanite swordmaster. Caphas began to relax. It was unlikely such a man would prove to be a robber. There were far better ways for skilled fighters to make money in this war-torn country than by waylaying travelling merchants. The man�s clothes further reinforced this judgement. Though functional in appearance - a dark leather jerkin, the shoulders edged with chain mail, leather leggings and high riding boots also adorned with mail - they were richly made. His black horse was Ventrian pure bred. Such beasts were rarely seen on the open market, but would sell privately for between two hundred and four hundred gold raq. The rider was quite clearly no thief. Thoughts of robbery drifted away, only to be replaced by a fear of another kind.
The man dismounted and walked to the fire. He moved with the grace common to all swordsmen, thought Caphas, who rose to greet him. Up close the rider was younger than Caphas had first thought. In his twenties. His eyes were a piercing sapphire blue, his face handsome. Caphas bowed. �Welcome to my fire, sir,� he said. �It is good to find company in such bleak surroundings. I am Caphas.�
�Skilgannon,� said the man, offering his hand.
A deep, sickening terror struck Caphas. His mouth was suddenly dry. Aware that Skilgannon was staring at him he managed to say: �I ... was about to prepare a small meal. You would be most welcome to share it.�
�Thank you.� Skilgannon�s blue eyes scanned the campsite. Then he raised his head and sniffed the air. �Since you are not the person wearing the perfume I suggest you invite the women to join us. There are wild beasts in the woods. Not as many wolves as once there were, but still some bears and the occasional panther.� He swung away from Caphas and walked to the fire. It was then that the merchant saw the strange ornament he carried slung across his back. It was around five feet in length, slightly curved, the centre polished black. At each end were set beautifully sculpted ivory sections. Ornate and exquisite, it would - ha...

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