Jame the Kencyr had come out of the Haunted Lands, chill home now only to the dead. At her back - the hungry cries of the unclean, undead creatures that tracked her. Before her - the city. Behind shuttered windows, the good citizens - and the bad - kept silent vigil. Tonight was the Feast of Dead Gods. Tonight only Jame would run, frightened and lost, through the unpeopled darkness. And beyond the city stretched always the unknown and the Dream, as she sought her lost brother. As armed with her father's sword and ring and the half-sleeping, half-wakened powers of her ancestry, she searched across bleak outlands and terrible distances, confronted strange and looming foes.