He did not know that in the instant he'd taken the apple the Demons could penetrate the inner spaces of his mind.

Although they could not see details, they could see that he did indeed have a powerful secret regarding the Niah-woman, but they could also understand that there were other secrets in there ... other amusements ...

Isfrael was still caught in his vision. The Mother walked by his side, not a god at all but a companion. She was asking his advice, and listening gratefully to his answers.

Qeteb saw a glimpse of what Isfrael wanted, perhaps more than anything else, and the vision altered slightly for the Mage-King ...

And Shra walked by his other side. She had transformed as did all female Baneswhen they died, and now she awaited him in the Sacred Groves. She waited for him ...

Isfrael lifted his hand and took a bite of the apple —

The Demons screamed with silent triumph.

— and realisation that the Demons did speak the truth flooded his being. They would help him to the Sacred Groves, and there they would leave him in peace, and all for the price of a piece of information that they would surely have figured out sooner or later for themselves.

Peace, power, and all for the tiniest of prices. Isfrael could hardly comprehend his good fortune.

Qeteb grinned, malevolent with exultation behind his mask. The apple always did the trick.

"Let me tell you about the Niah-woman," Isfrael whispered. "She is a treasure you can hardly comprehend. It all has to do with Acharites and death ..."

And Isfrael talked, the words tumbling out and falling over themselves. All Acharites carried the seeds of Enemy magic within themselves. Only those who'd come back through death could use it. Niah, if only she could speak and think, was a weapon that could breach the walls of Sanctuary, and perhaps could be thrown at the StarSon himself.

"Was that worth the Sacred Groves?" Isfrael finished. "Was it?"

"Oh, assuredly," Qeteb said, and his voice quivered with triumph.

The StarSon was his!

"I can't get to the Groves by myself," Isfrael said, desperate now that the Demons had their information to receive his payment. "I need your power to breach the defences that the Mother has placed around them."

"But how can we —" Qeteb started.

"All I need is power," Isfrael said. "Surely you must be more powerful than the Mother? Just create that small rent for me, and I will pass through, and then I can seal the fissure from the other side."

Qeteb glanced at his companions, and they all remembered the strange bowl that one of the Hawkchilds had found. It was of great magic, and StarLaughter — and curses that she had not yet been found! — had said it was of Avar magic.

Without a spoken word, but with mutual agreement, Qeteb lifted a hand and gestured at the sky.

A round-shaped object spun down, and Qeteb caught it in a hand.

"Tell me about this bowl," he said to Isfrael.

Isfrael's face brightened with excitement. "That is my mother's bowl!"

"And its significance is ..." Qeteb said patiently.

"It does many things, but one of its main purposes was to allow my mother to travel to and from the Sacred Groves."

"Do you know how to use it?"

Isfrael stared at the bowl, then raised his eyes to Qeteb's mask. "Yes. I can use it, but I will need your power added to the power of the bowl so that I can propel myself into the Groves. And

... one more thing."

I do hope your flesh is going to be sweet enough for all the trouble you are causing me, Qeteb thought, but he answered pleasantly enough. "Yes?"

"I take the bowl with me," Isfrael said. And then I shall be safe for all time! he thought.

"But of course," Qeteb said. "I would not dream of keeping it."

And even his visor seemed to smile reassuringly.

Isfrael relaxed with complete relief. "My people are in Sanctuary —" he began.

"No," said Qeteb. "No. They were not part of your original bargain."

"But—"

"No!"

Isfrael subsided. The Avar had abandoned him after all. And even then he had tried to save them.

He'd done his best. He had. He really had. Now he should concentrate on saving what was left.

"Very well," he said, and reached out for the bowl.

Isfrael may not have been told of the exact way in which Faraday had used the bowl to reach the Sacred Groves, but he was Mage-King of the Avar, instructed and expert in all of their secret arts. He knew the bowl for what it was: a conduit, a means of entering the Groves either when all other means were closed, or, as in Faraday's case, by a person who normally would not have the power or the knowledge to access the secret paths.

The Mother had forgotten the bowl when She'd closed the paths. She'd forgotten that She'd left the back door open.

And here it was, Isfrael thought, in the hands of the Demons. The silly Bitch, She needed him there to guide Her. Why, if he hadn't come along, the Demons would have accessed the Groves for themselves! The Mother was fortunate indeed that he was here to save Her and all who still dwelt within the Groves.

Isfrael placed the bowl on the ground. "I need water."

Instantly Sheol was at his side, solicitously offering him a pewter pitcher filled with clear, sweet water.

She poured it into the bowl, and as it swirled about, the water changed to a deep emerald colour.

Isfrael's chest constricted with excitement, and he had to fight to calm himself. He opened his right hand, and hesitated.

Qeteb, deep inside Isfrael's unwitting mind, instantly leaned out his own hand, one finger extended.

Isfrael stared at the mailed hand, then took a grasp of it —

It was deathly cold, as if it had been entombed for centuries within one of the great bergs thatdrifted in the Iskruel Ocean.

— and used one of the sharpened overlapping joints above a knuckle to slice a small way into his thumb.