‘Fuck off and drive the wagon,’ Isak snapped.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence Carel waved the pipe in Isak’s face and the white-eye took it, happy to have the distraction.
‘You were out three days,’ Carel said. ‘The king went after the Devoted troops when they retreated, but they were in better shape to march and they’re well ahead. He left you with a rearguard, but after a day I decided there was no telling when you were going to wake up, so we loaded you into this and went to catch ’em up. We reached the army mid-morning today — they keep having to stop and probe ahead because the Devoted have left divisions of troops staggered behind them — they’re not waiting for a fight, just looking to strafe any ragged edges, but it all needs a proper response.’
‘We’ll make good time on the road,’ Isak said after a moment. ‘Is anyone cutting cross-country?’
‘Aye, Vesna and Lahk have taken five divisions to harry their flanks, but given the ground this road’ll be the fastest route for as many infantry as we got.’
‘So now we chase them,’ Isak said wearily, ‘all the way to the Waste. Let’s hope the Chetse take exception to them, slow them up enough for us to force battle.’
‘Reckon they will? Where’s Ruhen going, anyway?’
‘Keriabral, Aryn Bwr’s fortress — where this all started, near enough.’
‘Why? What’s out there?’
Isak took a long draw on the pipe before replying, as though reluctant to voice the answer. ‘Why? Because I weakened the Gods, and now’s the time to challenge them, when they can’t defend themselves.’
‘And he can really do it?’
‘That and more,’ Isak said with a grim expression. ‘He’s got thousands of devoted worshippers, near-limitless power and half the opposition he expected.’
Carel fell silent.
‘And you can stop him?’ Tiniq asked in a quiet voice.
‘If I can catch him, I can kill him — not just his mortal body, Azaer too. And we still hold the majority of Crystal Skulls; without them he can’t make the Gods of the Upper Circle kneel, so he can’t avoid us forever.’ He sighed. ‘Unless he’s mad enough to kill them all. There’s always that.’
CHAPTER 34
Ilumene lit his cigar from a burning stick, puffed appreciatively at it and continued on. There were wary faces around the campfire; Devoted soldiers watching him like mice watching the cat. He ignored them; he enjoyed their fear, but he had better things on his mind.
Venn walked silently ahead through the regimented rows of tents, the white leather grip of his sword almost the only thing visible in the dark. Ilumene caught him up again before they had reached their destination, the tents of the Jesters and their acolytes at the edge of the main army camp.
‘Any guesses what this’s about?’
Venn shook his head.
The former King’s Man blew a lungful of smoke across Venn’s face. ‘Not even a guess?’
‘I suspect they will offer us a drink,’ Venn said at last, realising Ilumene was going to keep talking until he got a response.
‘Well, I won’t complain there. Doesn’t sound like ’em though, unsociable lot, our Jesters.’
‘It is an unusual sort of drink.’
‘Seen it before, then?’
Venn nodded. ‘In my years of bondage,’ he said solemnly, ‘I travelled the Waste for a time. The Jester clans welcomed me as befitting one bearing a holy charge.’
‘Too bad most others thought of you as the entertainment, eh?’
Venn stopped and looked Ilumene in the face. ‘Our reasons for being here are not so different.’
‘Never said they were.’ Ilumene looked Venn up and down. ‘Someone’s got prickly now he ain’t the fighter he used to be.’
‘I remain skilled beyond most others in this camp.’
‘Never said you weren’t,’ Ilumene said with a grin. He puffed away at his cigar and then continued, ‘Come on. If it’s some quaint barbarian custom we’re invited to, Rojak will complain if he misses it. Won’t bother me o’ course, but I reckon he’d keep you up the rest of the night singing all manner o’ filth. Minstrels are all the same, after all, just entertainment for the low masses.’ If Rojak responded to that in the privacy of Venn’s mind, the former Harlequin made no sign; he gracefully matched the taller man’s pace without appearing to hurry. They were admitted to the Jesters’ camp without a word by the white-masked guards and escorted by curt hand gestures to the tall tents where their Demi-God lords awaited them.
The small camp was strangely silent, even quieter than the subdued Devoted on three sides of them. The warriors were all loitering on the edges of a central square around which were the Jesters’ own tents. Over the last few weeks he had discovered there was a clear division within their ranks, though little difference in the way they dressed. The Harlequins wore their porcelain faces to ensure all roles and moods were conveyed solely by gesture, but Venn had suggested it had started as an echo of the serene faces of the divine, unencumbered by emotion. What ever the truth, the only way to tell white masked Acolytes and Hearth-Spears apart were the weapons they carried. The Acolytes, the elite, carried long, two handed swords; they worked as mercenaries alongside their lords. The Hearth-Spears, the men and woman of the clans, defended their homes with javelins or spears and oval shields.
Ilumene looked around. Most of the hundred elite Acolytes were assembled here, so whatever was going on, it looked like they were involved.
‘Lord Koteer, Blessed Sons of Death,’ Venn called as he approached the seated Demi-Gods, ‘I thank you for your invitation to attend this ritual.’
Koteer, the eldest of the Jesters who spoke for them all, looked up. His grey skin faded into the night’s darkness, leaving his white mask even more stark and ghostly. ‘We intend to raid the enemy — with your permission, Ilumene, as the voice of the Child,’ he announced. His voice was accented with age, but his words remained precise and clear. ‘We invite the Harlequins to join us.’
‘Just the Harlequins?’ Ilumene asked. ‘What if the rest of us want to join in the fun?’
Koteer regarded him. ‘It will be a night raid, tomorrow, when the moon is darkest. The Harlequins can move silently at night. Any others will betray us.’
‘Your Acolytes can see in the dark?’
Koteer gestured and the two disciples of Ruhen edged forward to get a better view. Smoky braziers flanked the entrance of each large tent; the flavour of incense was heavy on the air. Ilumene could make out a blackened bowl, some dark liquid bubbling gently within it, sitting upon a small iron brazier. Koteer unbuckled the vambrace from his left arm and pushed up his sleeve. Accepting a knife from the nearest Acolyte, the Demi-God started intoning something, then slit open his wrist, letting a stream of darkly glowing blood pour down into the bowl. Then he stirred the contents with the blade of the knife and handed it back.
With blood still dribbling from his wrist, he ran his fingers over the wound and spoke more arcane words in Elvish, the language of magic, and the wound sealed. An Acolyte came forward with a fresh piece of linen to wrap around the wrist and Koteer held that in place while his vambrace was buckled back on.
Another Acolyte stepped forward with a silver jug, poured something that looked like water into the bowl and stirred it again with a naked blade, then small flasks were passed forward by all the watching Acolytes and carefully filled by Koteer’s attendants.
‘The clans share our blood, one and all; many of the Acolytes are our sons, but they remain human,’ Koteer said. ‘This ritual temporarily brings out the divine in their blood. Mortals cannot endure that too often, but in times of war, the risks are worth taking.’
Venn said, ‘I will send thirty Harlequins to join you — I can spare no more; the risk of assassins remains too great.’
‘Acceptable,’ Koteer confirmed. ‘We will double back while the army moves on; the enemy are close enough
