They tried to track him, but once they had scrambled up the bank they couldn't even guess at which direction Aracnan had taken, and the ground held no clues that any man had walked there. Finally, unwilling to waste much more time chasing ghosts, the wagon-master called off the futile hunt and they recommenced their journey in near-silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Isak jumped when Carel leaned over to whisper in his ear, some hours later, 'Nyphal was looking down upon us, I'm sure; I felt her presence.'

Was that what I felt? A Goddess?' asked Isak, unsure whether he could have described what he had felt as divine. The mercenary nodded, his eyes fixed on the western horizon, where the Gods lived. He'd seen Aracnan's anger, contained though it was, and had no doubt the Goddess had intervened for them. 'We'll stop at the next shrine and sacrifice there. I'm not sure what Aracnan wanted with you, but he meant you no good – of that I'm certain.'

He kept his frown for a moment, then shook it off and nudged Isak with a laugh. The Gods were looking down on you, boy, so maybe they've plans for you after all. You might find out there are worse things in life than bales of cloth.'

Isak sat with his lips firmly set, determinedly looking north to the cool, wooded valleys and mist-shrouded mountains the tribe called home: the land where the God Nartis raged in the sky above a city of soaring spires and the dark-haired Farlan tribe; north, to the Lord of Storms.

CHAPTER 2

Tirah, the seat and heart of an autocrat's power: a city that slumbered warily at the heart of the Spiderweb Mountains. Crowned by seven great towers and wreathed in curling mist, Tirah was famed throughout the Land as the oldest of human cities, and one of the most beautiful.