'You want to pray?' Carel asked in a dubious tone. He'd known Isak for most of the white-eye's life; Isak had always resented piety when it was imposed upon him.

Isak shrugged. 'I should probably get into the habit one of these days, now that I'm important.'

'Still, it's not something I'd expect from you,' the marshal said softly, careful to keep his voice low so no one could overhear them. The soldiers were handpicked, men of the Palace Guard and completely trustworthy, but this was too astonishing a secret to entrust to anyone else.

'Nor from him,' Isak reminded him with a smile. 'Stop fretting like an old woman; Tila can do that perfectly well for the two of you.'

'Then what is this about?' Carel said, puzzled.

Isak sighed. 'It's nothing important, I just want to enjoy this view for a few minutes and clear my head. He's been finding his memories, the ones locked away in the Crystal Skulls. While part of him had been with me since I was born, there's much that has been missing for millennia, and it's not all cheering. The defeated have fewer happy memories.' As he spoke, his fingers went automatically to the glassy shape now fused onto his cuirass. Having felt the vast power they con¬tained, he'd been reluctant to test the ancient artefacts but, strangely, their presence was still comforting.

'What sort of memories?'

'Battles, the death of his son, sometimes just senseless fragments, like my dreams, and sometimes things that explain much.'

'Such as?' Carel encouraged softly.