‘Except for Hedge. Whiskeyjack sent Hedge back — to Fiddler.’
‘Did he now?’
‘Remember Pale, Ganoes Paran?’
‘As much of it as I could, which wasn’t much.’
‘Right — you weren’t there yet, not when we got together on a hill outside the city, to shake things down one more time. Or, if you
‘What about it, Quick?’
‘It’s just … we were all there. Trying to make sense of things. And now I’ve got this feeling … we’re all going to meet again. To bring it all to an end.’
‘One way or another.’
‘Aye.’
‘How do you gauge our chances, High Mage?’
‘Miserable.’
‘And our weapons?’
‘With me vouching for Fiddler, and you for your sister,’ he said, with a wry grin, ‘the best we could hope for, I suppose.’
‘And here I have two more — the infamous Kalam and Quick Ben. You know, if I wasn’t such a realist, I’d be feeling confident right now.’
A scowl replaced the grin. ‘Did you really have to put it quite that way, High Fist?’
He felt her eyes on him as he swung on to the horse. Settling in the saddle, gathering the reins, he squinted at the broad, terraced valley stretching away to his right. Rich lands, he mused. Then he glanced across at her. ‘What?’
Minala shook her head. ‘He’s going to get you killed for real one of these days. You know that, don’t you?’
Kalam snorted. ‘Whatever you think you’ve seen, Minala, you’ll just have to take my word: you really have no idea what we’ve survived, me and Quick.’
‘Fine. Impress me.’
‘Probably not possible, but I’ll try anyway. Jaghut and Crimson Guard Avowed in Mott Wood. Tiste Andii assassin-mages and highborn demons in Darujhistan. More Claw than you could count.’ Looking across at her, seeing her flat expression, he sighed. ‘And we ain’t so bad on our own, neither. Icarium, the Pannion Domin, K’Chain Nah’ruk and Soletaken dragons — Quick’s faced down them all. As for me … if I could raise up every person and every demon and every whatever I’ve personally killed, I’d have an army big enough to drown the Forkrul Assail in piss, never mind a knockdown fight.’
She continued staring at him, and then she said, inflectionless, ‘You are both insufferable.’
‘Some nerve,’ he rumbled, ‘after all that attention I just gave you.’
On all sides, Paran’s Host was forming up, preparing to march — they had a third of a day’s light left and it seemed the High Fist wasn’t much interested in resting his troops.
Minala took a drink from her waterskin and then spoke again. ‘Were all you Bridgeburners the same? Arrogant, self-important, narcissistic?’
‘Aye, and we earned every strut.’
‘Rubbish.’
‘In fact,’ Kalam went on, ignoring her comment, ‘it’s probably why they decided to wipe us out. Every officer they threw at us couldn’t hold up. We were a company run by the sergeants, Whiskeyjack first and foremost, but even then the sergeants voted on stuff, the orders they’d give to the captains and lieutenants, the orders to go down to the rest of us. As you might imagine, the high command didn’t much like that. Oh, we might listen to a few, the ones we knew would do right by us — Dassem, Dujek, the ones we knew were worth their salt. But the rest? Not a chance.’
‘Meaning you were ungovernable.’
‘Meaning we were actually thinking of taking down the Empress. Aye, looking on it that way, Laseen had to wipe us out. She had no choice, and if it didn’t sit well with her — having to kill off her toughest soldiers — well, I suppose we gave her few options.’
‘Well now,’ Minala said, ‘finally, a little honesty.’
‘So now I’m with the Host, wife. Which brings me to the question, what are you doing here? It ain’t safe, wherever we’re going.’
‘Shadowthrone’s children,’ she said. ‘Those that survived, I mean. I couldn’t look them in the eye, not after what happened. I couldn’t bear it any longer. And I could see — Cotillion and Shadowthrone, they were up to something. But mostly,’ she seemed to shudder, ‘the children, and what happened outside the throne room. I’ll grant you, Quick Ben didn’t hesitate, even when it looked like he was going to die. He didn’t hesitate.’
‘Icarium,’ Kalam muttered. ‘Maybe one day I’ll face off against him, and we’ll see.’
Minala snorted. ‘That’d put a quick end to your arrogance, Kalam Mekhar.’
A signaller waved a banner, and it was time to ride down to join the vanguard. Kalam thought about Minala’s last words, and sighed.
They kicked their horses into motion.
And Kalam asked, ‘Love, tell me again, about that Tiste Edur with the spear …’
Commander Erekala of the Grey Helms entered the tent to find Brother Serenity standing in a corner at the back, draped in shadows and facing the canvas wall. There was no one else present and Erekala was brought up short.
‘Pure?’
Serenity slowly turned. ‘Have you ever been buried alive, Erekala? No, I would imagine not. Perhaps, in the occasional nightmare … no matter. Earlier this day I felt the murder of Sister Belie. And every one of her officers — all dead. The siege has been shattered, and our enemy is now loose within our demesne.’
Erekala blinked, but said nothing.
‘Take off your helm,’ Serenity said. ‘Do you see, over there? A carafe. Foreign wine. I admit to having acquired a taste for it. It serves well in easing my … misgivings.’ And he went over to pour himself a goblet. He poured a second goblet and gestured to it.
Helm now unstrapped and under one arm, Erekala shook his head and said, ‘Misgivings, Pure? Is not the cause just?’
‘Oh indeed, Erekala, there will be justice in our tide of retribution. But there will also be crime. We do not spare the children. We do not ask them to remake their world, to fashion a new place of humility, respect and compassion. We give them no chance to do better.’
‘Pure,’ said Erekala, ‘as the teachings of the Wolves make plain, each and every generation is given a new chance. And each time, they but perpetuate the crimes of their fathers and mothers. “From the blow that strikes the innocent child to the one that lays waste to a forest, while the magnitude of the gesture may vary, the desire behind the hand does not.” So the Wild would say, if it but had the words to speak.’
Serenity’s eyes glittered in the shadows. ‘And you see no presumption?’
Erekala cocked his head. ‘Pure, the presumptions of the Perish Grey Helms are unending. Yet if we refuse or are unable to comprehend the suffering of the innocent — be it babe or beast — what do our words replace, if not all that we would not hear, would not countenance, lest it force us to change our ways, which we will never do. If we would speak for the Wild, we must begin with the voice of human conscience. And when conscience is not heeded, or is discarded, then what choice remains to us?’
‘How clearly you enjoy such debate, Erekala. You remind me of better days … peaceful days. Very well, I will consider what the world would be like, for all within it, if conscience was more than just a whispering voice. If, indeed, it could raise a hand in anger. And, when even a sound beating is not enough, it might then close that hand about a throat and take the life from the transgressor.’
‘It is our greatest presumption, Pure,’ said Erekala, ‘that we be the hand of conscience.’
‘Holding a sword.’
