The third dream came upon Kel without warning. There was no lurch of nausea or vertigo. She had been standing in the stable courtyard, dressed lightly in armour: a chainmail shirt beneath her tunic and steel greaves and cuisses. Neal was already mounting his mare, dressed similarly, and Kel was waiting to hand him the Royal standard he would carry with them. It was just after sunset and Daine was standing beside her with an oil lamp, holding it aloft so that Numair could saddle his own horse while speaking over his shoulder about the plan they had decided upon. They would go back to the blacksmith's shop near the river, fully armed and with Numair's authority to confiscate the slave for an investigation into any threatening magical properties that might be connected to her.

"I've done it before," Numair had said as he tightened his girth by lamplight, "To study objects suspected of being cursed; rings or weapons or things like that."

Kel lifted the standard up to Neal and he grasped the smooth wooden handle, resting one end on the toe of his left boot. The breeze caught the flag, making it unfurl with an audible snapping sound, and Kel fell into the dirt as if the noise had sent an arrow into the softest part of her stomach, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She was no longer standing in the cool darkness of a spring evening. The cold against her skin was the deep shadow cast by enormous earthen walls, encircling a city built on the edge of the desert. If she looked up, nearly blinded by the white burning of the sun, she could catch sight of figures stationed along the top of the wall. They were guardsmen, dressed in strange, foreign armour that Kel did not recognise. Beyond them was the silhouette of a spire, thrusting into the cloudless sky. It was the only building in the city taller than the sun-baked walls and Kel had to squint to make out its needle-like tip, around which the black smudged shapes of vultures flew. As Kel watched, one circled lower and lower until it was just above her head. Its wingbeats made strands of her hair flutter. Finally she stretched out her arm, which its talons closed upon with unexpected gentleness. As it settled itself there it folded its wings in a shiver of feathers, then tilted its ugly, naked head and regarded her sceptically with one black eye. Its weight on her arm was enormous and its grip threateningly tight. Suddenly it opened its cruel black beak and said, "This is the Hag's city, in the Hag's country."

A desert wind picked up and blew across the sand towards the city. The vulture turned its head grotesquely on its scrawny neck to watch as the wind whipped a dust devil into the city walls.

"But the desert," it said, "Is not the Hag's. Century by century, the Lord of the Desert draws nearer."

Lifting her free hand to shade her eyes, Kel looked out along the wall and saw in the distance a plank scaffolding built close within its shadow. There was a small crowd of people lingering around the platform, several mounted on fine southern horses and dressed richly in varying shades of purple and red.

"Jihuk made a wager with the Hag," croaked the vulture, "That he would produce a male heir: a young jackal prince. If he won, the Hag would give the boy her desert city, in which stands her first and greatest temple. If he lost, he would give his daughter as a slave to her people."

Through the crowd came a line of figures chained to one another. Two men accompanied them, both on horseback; one rode before and the other behind. Each held a long, serpent-like whip in his hand. They urged on the slaves, whose naked bodies were being scoured by the wind-borne sand. Slowly, climbing the steps carefully in their chains, they mounted the platform: a slave auction. The men swung down from their saddles and followed the slaves onto the plank stage. Kel watched them push slaves into line, cuffing one so hard across the ear that the dull sound of it carried several hundred metres to where she stood. On her arm, the vulture gave a dry, cough-like laugh and said, "The Hag does not lose her wagers."

The struck slave had flinched away, unable to raise chained hands in self-defence. Kel shivered violently as she saw that it was a girl of about twelve, shorter and thinner than the young men she was chained to and with hair as black as the Desert God's fur cape. From far in the distance, over the dunes, came the faint music of a plucked wire and a steady drumbeat.

Kel opened her eyes, lying flat on her back on the uneven cobbles of the courtyard. A light rain had begun to fall and her tunic was damp, smears of moisture glistening on the links of her chainmail. Her limbs felt heavy and stiff. She had never wanted to sleep so desperately before, not even after battle. If Neal and Daine were not already grasping her by the arms and hauling her to her feet, Kel would have been tempted to stay exactly where she was and fall asleep on the ground in the rain. While the two of them supported her, Numair put a gentle palm on her forehead and asked softly, "Another vision? You're very pale."

Kel nodded and spat, trying to rid her mouth of a sharp, metallic taste. Her knees, which had been trembling violently, steadied and she told Neal and Daine that they could let her go.

"What did you see?" said Daine, keeping one hand rested on Kel's shoulder.

"I was in the desert, in Carthak, I think. A vulture spoke to me."

Numair and Daine exchanged a startled look. Kel leaned over, grasping her knees and trying to breathe deeply, "The dreams are different, but… the same. They're like tiles in a mosaic."

"A speaking vulture." said Daine, "That sounds like a lesser god to me."

"It told me a story; a Carthaki god whose child was sold into slavery."

Numair's face tensed, his brow wrinkling into a deep frown. Then he turned and mounted his horse quickly, gesturing for Neal to do the same. Gathering his reins he said, "A mosaic, indeed: I believe I'm beginning to see the picture."

Kel hoisted herself into the saddle with difficulty, despite Daine's protests and urged Peachblossom after the others with one hand on the reins and the other on her sword hilt.