You have heard how Hadrian Marlowe slew the Cielcin at Gododdin, how he tore the Pale King from its throne and set the heavens on fire. You have heard how he slew the demon princes Aranata and Ulurani; how he battled the iron devils of the White Hand; how he riddled with daimons from the ancient world, the bastard offspring of Felsenburgh’s thrice-damned daughters. You have heard how he loved his lady, his witch doctor of the Tavrosi clans—though they were forbid to wed and to conceive. You have heard also how he defied Death itself, and Time, and spoke with he who might be, who must be: the
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