‘I care nothing for your damned wards,’ the huge warrior replied, leaning his sword against a wall then taking a single step that placed him in the centre of the room. ‘I know that smell. Ghosts, spirits, it’s the stink of forgetting.’ ‘Forgetting?’ ‘When the dead forget they’re dead, witch.’ ‘Like your friends in that stone sword of yours?’ The eyes that fixed on her were cold as ashes. ‘They have cheated death, Samar Dev. Such was my gift. Such was theirs, to turn away from peace. From oblivion. They live because the sword lives.’ ‘Yes, a warren within a weapon. Don’t imagine that as unique
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