'You talk as though the rock is your best friend.'

'It is.'

'Is this a new area?'

'The miners dug it out last year. One day they'll be back to follow these seams as far as they go.'

'Why didn't they keep going while they were here?'

'Because they found some interesting old stones and had to call me in to check them. Woe to any miner who smashes up good crystal in search of base silver or gold.'

'The bloody damn war! Is it ever going to end?'

Joe prised at a vein with the point of his pick. 'Been going for a hundred and fifty years, and the lyrinx came well before that, when the Forbidding was broken and wicked Faelamor opened the void into our world. I don't see it stopping anytime soon.'

Tiaan knew that story by heart. The twenty-seventh Great Tale, written by the chronicler Garthas, was the most important of the recent Histories, and taught to every child in the civilised world. It was based on the final part of the twenty-third Great Tale, The Tale of the Mirror, but that tale was no longer allowed to be told.

Many creatures had invaded Santhenar at the time of the Forbidding, two hundred and six years ago, though only one had thrived: the winged lyrinx. Intelligent predators with a taste for human flesh and a burning desire for their own world, they had been at war with humanity ever since.

'We're never going to defeat the lyrinx, are we, Joe?'

'I'd say not. They're too big, too smart and too damn tough. I hear that Thurkad has finally fallen.'

She had heard that too, and that there were a million refugees on the road. Thurkad was the fabulous, ancient city that had dominated the island of Meldorin, and indeed half the known world, for thousands of years. Tiksi was about as far as one could get from Thurkad and lyrinx-infested Meldorin, but the Histories had told Tiaan all about it. If such a powerful place had been overcome, what hope did they have?