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‘But it’s here, it’s right here.’ Che knew it in her heart. She could almost taste the metallic, sour savour of Tisamon in the air. ‘Call it out.’

‘I’ve called. It won’t answer. It’s staying where it wants to be,’ Maure explained. ‘It doesn’t need to talk to anyone else.’

‘Che, this is ridiculous,’ Tynisa said. ‘What money has this woman had from you?’

‘Listen to me!’ Che stood up, ignoring Maure’s attempt to hush her. ‘I know you’re here, Tisamon. I know you’re with Tynisa right now. I can practically see you riding her shoulders. Is this what you wanted? Is this what you’re reduced to? Come out and face me, will you?’

Only the rain answered her words. No spectre made itself known.

‘Che, this isn’t funny,’ Tynisa remarked after a suitable pause. ‘I don’t appreciate my father’s name being abused like this. If I thought this halfbreed put you up to it, I’d kill her right now, but it seems that you’re driving all this nonsense yourself. I know you got hurt in the war, Che, but to resort to this . . .?’

Che stared at her, seeing the embodiment of calm reason in Tynisa’s face, whilst the invisible shade of Tisamon lurked secure behind her eyes. She had assumed that Maure would haul the ghost out by main magical force. She had thought this must be what the necromancer’s work entailed. But now it seemed that the shade could continue simply to squat within Tynisa’s mind, like a creeping poison, and they could not touch it.

She looked helplessly about the room until she met Maure’s cautious gaze. ‘Well then,’ she said sickly. ‘If not that, then I must find some way myself. Whatever mantle I’ve been given must be good for something. I’m not done with this.’

‘Che—’ Tynisa started again, but the Beetle girl made a slashing motion in her direction, prompting an astonished silence.

‘Another,’ Che instructed Maure. ‘Call up another.’

‘I need some link, at least. I can’t just—’

‘His name was Achaeos, a Moth-kinden of Tharn. He was my lover, and he was dealt a wound by Tynisa, before his death,’ Che spat it out harshly, ignoring the way her sister flinched from the words. ‘Tell me that’s not enough.’

‘It will do.’ Maure grimaced again. ‘Achaeos of Tharn, then . . . Achaeos, beloved of Cheerwell Maker.’ She closed her eyes again. ‘Wherever your spirit resides, whatever still remains of it, come forth. Here stands your lover, Achaeos. Surely you must desire some words with her?’

Che sought within her mind, trying to piece together a complete picture of the man she had known. But it was like stepping out over a yawning chasm, because she now found that she was barely able to. For so long after his death she had borne her grief, had been tormented by dreams, had even thought that his angry ghost was haunting her. The actual man himself, the sum of the feelings she had invested in him, had receded under the weight of those mostly self-imposed torments. So now that she came to find him again, the surviving impressions were distant and cold.

But it must be enough. It will be enough. Achaeos!

Maure kept shaking her head, though. ‘There is nothing.’

‘Call him again.’

‘You don’t understand, Che. There is nothing.’ When it was plain to her that Che genuinely did not understand, she elaborated, ‘When I called on the Mantis, I felt the tug, a connection, even though he would not come forth. With this Achaeos, there is nothing. No touch, no contact . . . no ghost.’

Che stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked tightly.

‘I’m sorry, Che. No ghost. Whatever happened to him, he’s left nothing behind. Either some greater force has claimed him, or he has passed beyond, without so much as a scrap of him remaining. That’s rare, in fact, very rare, but it can happen.’

Che felt her hands begin to shake. ‘Some greater force . . .’ she managed to get out. As he had died, Achaeos had been in communion with the cursed Mantis spirits of the Darakyon, channelling their power into a grand ritual taking place in Tharn. Che had been helping him, lending what strength she could. She had felt the cold death sent by the Darakyon