ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

Talaban nodded. ‘I accept that, lady.’

‘But something troubles you.’

‘Yes. You talk of helping us, but, from what you describe, this Almeia is more powerful than you. Her armies are stronger than any force we can muster. I do not see how we can win.’

‘In truth I do not know if we can,’ she said. ‘But when faced with evil it is vital to oppose it, whether victory is achievable or not. And, for a while at least, my powers will continue to grow. Who knows what we might achieve? And now you must go and prepare for your meeting with the new council. Would you object if Touchstone remained here? He and I have much to talk about.’

Talaban felt a twinge of jealousy. But he bowed and forced a smile.

Ro walked him to the door. ‘She is an amazing woman,’ said the little Questor.

‘Indeed she is.’

As he left the house Ro took hold of his arm. ‘Do not let Rael deceive you, Talaban. There is no evil in her.’

‘Are you in love with her, Ro?’

‘With every fibre of my being.’

Boru sat in the prison cell, his golden-haired daughter cuddled in close to him. ‘I don’t like it here. I want to go,’ she said. He stroked her hair. So soft and fine, he thought, threads of lovingly woven sunlight.

‘We have to stay for a little while,’ he said. ‘The door • locked.’

‘Why are we locked in?’ she asked him. ‘Just rest, little one.’

‘I don’t want to rest. I want to go outside.’ ‘Sometimes we can’t do what we want to do.’ Boru cursed himself for a selfish fool. He had always known there was a chance he could be caught, but as each mission passed without incident he had become careless. For years now he had travelled between the cities, gathering information, passing messages between the Pajists and Anwar. And, in his arrogance, he had even started taking Shori on his trips. When the guards at the eastern gate had detained him he had still not realized it was over. But when they brought him here he knew the truth. The two of them were to die. And he was to blame. She stood up in his lap and tugged at his yellow and silver beard. ‘Don’t be sad,’ she said.

‘I love you, little one, and I am sorry.’

‘Why are you sorry? Have you done something wrong?’

‘Yes. I should have left you with your aunt.’

‘But I like coming with you,’ she said. ‘I like cross­ing rivers.’

The door opened. Boru took a deep breath and, gathering Shori in his arms, he rose.

Mejana stood there, two Avatar soldiers beside her. Boru blinked in surprise.

‘Bring him,’ she said. Then she walked down the corridor and out of his sight. The guards stepped aside. Boru carried Shori out and along the corridor, then up a flight of stairs. Mejana walked ahead of him and did not say a word. Finally they came to a long room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Some thirty people were seated around a huge table. At least half were Avatars, but the rest were Vagars, many of whom Boru knew. They were Pajists. He stood transfixed, his brain numb. What was happening here?

At the head of the table was a slim Avatar with piercing eyes and short-cropped blue hair. He rose and gestured Boru forward. A guard poked Boru in the back and he stumbled towards the table.

‘You are Boru, agent of Ammon?’ asked the Avatar.

‘I am.’

‘You know some of the people here.’

‘No.’

‘It was not a question, Boru. It was a statement of fact. You are not being tricked, and the Vagars you see here are not prisoners. They are new members of the High Council. I am Rael, the Questor General.’

‘What do you want with me?’ said Boru, his tone openly hostile.

‘Personally I would like to see you crystal-drawn, but that is no longer an option.’

‘It’s been done already, Avatar,’ snapped Boru. ‘Thirty years you took.’

Rael gave a humourless smile. ‘Do as you are bid and you could get them back.’