'So the father is a flintberry addict, and the son is a target for assassination. And Durran of Slowshore is behind it all. Why should I believe you? Why should the sisterhood intervene? And what the hell did you do to that man?'

The High Priestess was in her usual mood, which was -- of course -- bad. They were in an ante-chamber near one of the embalming rooms, lit by lanterns, surrounded by jars and bottles. They had found the Priestess performing blessings on the fluids. She muttered the rituals, passing her hands over the containers; she cast strange shadows as she did so, as the ancient words twisted and reset the fabric of the world.

In the past, Hebdha would be terrified and monosyllabic in the face of the High Priestess's ire. But something in her had changed, some mental bonds permanently snapped by Massy's intervention earlier. She looked the other woman in the eye, and replied.

'Durran of Slowshore wants to own the throne, and he is eliminating the two things in his way; the current king, who he controls as an addict, and the young king to be, who he is trying to kill. To get to here, to the Tomb City, you have to travel through his kingdom, Norda. He saw this place as an irrelevance, a quiet place to commit treason. I suspect he now sees it as a threat.'

The old king walked through the wall, joining them in the chamber.

'Where the hell where you?' asked Massy.

Ignoring her, he spoke directly to the High Priestess. 'The child is at least partly correct. Having satisfied myself as to the fine character of my grandson, I went to Durran's quarters. He was preparing a letter, detailing the sudden and terrible death of the young Yaj from a tree serpent. I followed him when he ran out to all the commotion, and immensely enjoyed his shock at finding the boy extremely alive.'

The Priestess didn't stop her work as she replied.

'The fact that novice Hebdha is partly right does not make this stupid situation any better. And she is probably correct about him seeing us about a threat, too. What is he doing now? I presume you have someone watching him?'

The king nodded. 'I asked the eidolon Gauntlen of Stonerise, who I believe was once a spy, to follow him. The last I saw, Durran was having a conversation with his chief guard about what to do and how much we know.'

'Good. Now you, novice. You and this eidolon performed a mind join, didn't you?'

Hebdha nodded. 'I think so...'

'Oh, give me strength. You are not supposed to be able do that for another five years. That was stupid, both of you. Don't do it again unless I tell you.'

Massy was obviously about to reply, but stopped when another eidolon came in. The High Priestess looked up sharply.

'Gauntlen? What is it?'

'Durran has given orders to his guards that the sisterhood is planning another assassination, and to prevent this you should be butchered in your sleep. His guards are nervous about this act. They believe in us, even if Durran doesn't. This may be to our advantage.'

'This is ridiculous. Gauntlen, go back to watching Durran. You, Thomasina, assess the guards so we are prepared for them. You, go tell the sisters. And you,' she said, pointing at Hebdha, 'stop being so damn precocious before you get us all killed. You haven't even done your ceremony yet!'

She stopped her ritual.

'Actually, that gives me an idea. Novice Hebdha, we are going to do your ceremony, right now. I want the Yaj and that Durran character there too. In the Winnowing Hall in fifteen minutes, all of you. Stop staring at me, are you all idiots? Come on!'

She had never been in the Winnowing Hall before. From the outside it didn't look like much: a square, squat building with no decoration. She had expected – well, she wasn't sure what, but not this.

It wasn't a hall. It was an arena. Stone steps sloped down to the centre, which was surrounded by a bronze cage, so that viewers could sit and safely watch whatever was going on inside. She had been hurriedly washed and dressed, and led into the centre; and she now was sitting on a huge stone slab, wearing a gold mask, waiting to begin.

'Novices usually get a bit more preparation,' the High Priestess had said a few minutes before, as she had been ritually blessed. 'You'll just have to wing it. Try not to die.'

Massy appeared in the centre, next to her. They watched as the priestesses walked in, as Durran and the Yaj were led to prime positions next to the edge, their guards behind.

'So what actually happens now?' asked Massy, casually.

A humming started around them.

'I don't know!' she replied. 'It's a secret. I have to prove I can speak to the eidola. Winnowing means to separate the wheat from the chaff. '

'I wonder what happens to the chaff...?' mused Massy. 'I am sure you'll be fine.'

The priestesses were all in place now. Behind her she could hear a weird scraping, thudding noise.

'Look,' said Massy, pointing. 'All the priestesses are mind joined, like we were.'

She looked up. It was true: she could see eidolons and living priestesses in perfect synchronisation. Even friendly Sister Annabelle had a five hundred year old warlord bound to her, and she was uncharacteristically scowling and fidgeting with a massive axe.

The young Yaj was staring at her and gasping. No, not at her. Past her, where the scraping was getting louder.

The room was silent now. Everyone had taken their places, was still, staring into the arena. She could see the high priestess, in full ceremonial robes. She raised her left hand slowly, and...

'Get up!' shouted Massy.

She jumped from the slab as best she could in the too-big robes, the gold mask heavy on her face. She whirled around and saw the largest tree serpent she had ever seen gliding into the arena.

Its six black eyes glittered in the torch light, and its primary frill was down, flush with its massive body.

'I thought you said they didn't get that big.' said Massy, dryly.

'I didn't know! What do I do?'

'You're the priestess, you tell me. Presumably everyone else has been through this.'

She was backing away across the sandy floor, trying to keep the slab of rock between her and the beast. It didn't seem like much of a barrier.

'I don't understand! They don't ever come into the tomb city, never mind the cenobium. Something keeps them away.' She was gabbling, trying to turn everything she could over in her mind, trying to figure out the riddle. The serpent lazily lifted its head, sniffing. She could see its secondary frills start to ripple.

'Is it bad when it does that?'

'Shut up, Massy! I need to think. It's not as simple as...? Massy, I am sorry for telling you to shut up. Could you stand there, please?'

With the nonchalance of the already dead, Massy strolled to where she was pointing, a handful of paces in front of the serpent, directly in its path.

The effect was immediate. The serpent flattened all its frills, lowered its head, stopped in its tracks. She could hear it breathing heavily, its hissing the only noise in the room.

She breathed a sigh of relief. 'They're frightened of you. Of the eidola. So I just need to use you to get it out of here.'

And then she saw the grin on Massy's face. 'And you knew! And didn't tell me.'

'Hardly a trial if someone else does it for you, is it? By the way, these are the chaps who herded it in, lovely couple, joint rulers of the province of Dho from around three hundred years ago. Say hello, Jonlun and Smo.'

A pair of eidola appeared, grinning and waving, completely incongruous in the tense, silent atmosphere of the arena. She looked at them, at the audience. The priestesses were nodding and smiling, obviously pleased at what they could see. The guards had pulled the Yaj back as far from the cage as they could, protecting him; he was staring in awe at the motionless serpent. And Durran was right at the edge of the arena, hands on the bars, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out the trick. She looked at him through her mask and he looked at her through the cage.

'I have an idea. I am not sure if it's what the High Priestess wanted, but I think it solves all our problems. Can you bring your new friends round here, please?'

Massy's grin became wolfish. 'You are going to do something stupid, aren't you?'

'Smo, is it? Can you sort of herd it that way?'

The three eidola worked together, goading the snake; the more they shouted at it, the more agitated it became, first rasping, and then shaking, and then calling its hoarse cry, and then suddenly rearing up in fear, thrashing its huge bulk upwards.

It smashed its head into the cage near where Durran stood. Everyone flinched, but Durran, secure in his arrogance that this was a ploy to intimidate him, stayed and laughed.

But Hebdha was right. The cage was mostly for show, the same way the ritual was. Normally the only people in here were priestesses, able to drive the serpent away themselves, and they had no need for protection. So the bars were old and corroded, and they gave and shook. And the only thing the snake could see with no eidola nearby was Durran, with nothing but some ancient brass in between them.

The cage broke suddenly with a shriek of metal. Before the guards could act the snake had plunged its massive head through and, in its panic, lashed out at the unprotected human. Its three sets of teeth all extended and it slashed through his right arm and chest, and blood fountained across the stone steps and sand. She could see the huge jaws dragging him by his arm which suddenly, with a horrible noise of tearing meat, separated from his body, the shoulder joint ripped out. The priestesses were running down, trying to protect the Yaj, but it was too late for Durran as the maddened snake screamed its feeding cry and gulped down his corpse.