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‘Then will she blind our guest, or will our guest come in fire and refutation?’

‘Truth?’Advertisement

‘Truth.’

‘I imagine to each other they will have very little to say.’

Overhead the swirl of stars was bright, modest in its fiery light, bold in its unlit absence. Caplo studied it for a time as his brethren settled down to sleep, and then said, ‘Let us take a fresh grip upon the weapon and spare nothing in our charge upon a new slope, no matter its bristling facade. Note you the Warden’s intrigue?’

Resh yawned. ‘Her cousin is reputed fair indeed, although too winning for my tastes.’

‘Not one to succumb to your insistence, then? I am sure Spinnock Durav will little spare the loss.’

‘Her betrothed cleaves a forest of black grass in search for her.’

‘Slays myriad wolves and less handsome denizens.’

‘Seeks a suitable hole in which to drain ill Vitr Sea.’

Caplo sighed. ‘And sets siege upon her blandish indifference.’

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‘All to no avail. Perhaps there is a thieving bird eyeing the stone mantel, where unknown words flow.’

‘Words not yet written.’

‘Some things need no chisel, no carver’s hand.’

‘True enough, O warlock. But I think this Azathanai has other purpose, not aligned to Faror Hend. Besides, dear T’riss has not a mason’s talent, nor one’s stolid comportment.’

Resh looked up, heavy brows lifting. ‘You think not? Peruse yon knotted horse. Think not too hard on it, lest your pallor grow yet more sickly. If that is even possible.’

‘Since I never heed your words, Resh, I will in fact give it further thought. But not now. All this killing has made me sleepy.’

‘Bah, while my headache clatters a plain of spears.’

The horses’ heads drooped. Sweat formed lather about their bits and made white streaks against their slick necks. They were through the forest of grass, out upon the lifeless verge with slumped knolls and rotted crags facing them. Sharenas Ankhadu had not thought such a ride possible, and these mounts were done. This thought irritated her. Kagamandra Tulas had succumbed to a kind of wilful disregard in his mad hunt for his betrothed. She glanced over at the others in the troop and saw well their drawn faces, their glazed eyes. They had gone in search of one of their own, yet no one life was worth the lives of these horses.

She never could understand the desperate elevation of a person’s value over that of other, less privileged creatures, as if every sentient mind was a lofty citadel, a self-announced virtue the loss of which staggered the world.

True, some worlds were staggered. Death’s kiss was always personal, and cold lips offered no solace. Unseeing eyes had a way of looking through and past those who dared meet them. Landscapes lost colour and breaths felt dry on the tongue. But all these feelings only stung in their mockery. They were echoes of sudden absence, the wail of the lost.

Animals knew the same grief. She had seen as much, time and again. Loss was universal. It was life’s own language, after all.

No, she was not irritated. She was furious, and when Tulas took up the reins again, she snapped out a single word. ‘No.’

He swung to face her.

‘Unless you fancy a long walk home.’

After a moment, Kagamandra slumped.

‘We have found the trail,’ Sharenas went on. ‘Leading back the way we came, although, granted, not the very same route we took. Lord Tulas, Calat Hustain dispatched these Wardens with more than one task in mind. Of course, we must discover the fate of Faror Hend. But also, we must confirm the tale of Captain Finarra Stone. We can return to this place upon our return journey, and so follow her track. But now, after a time of rest, we must set out for the shore — the trail here is plain. West.’

‘I am of a mind to leave you to it, then,’ Tulas replied.

The captain of the troop, a short, squat man of middle years named Bered, now cleared his throat, adding a dry cough before saying, ‘It is best we remain together, Lord. These are hostile lands, and for all your courage you cannot claim familiarity with it. We accepted the pace, true, but with misgivings. Now we must walk our beasts and then rest. This air is foul and will only get worse.’

‘She is my betrothed.’

‘And she is our companion. A friend to each and every one of us here. But we have great faith in her abilities, Lord Tulas. Still, should she have fallen, then no haste on our part will avail what remains of her. We will trail her, but with the expectation that the trail shall find no grisly end. In the meantime, it is as Lady Ankhadu has said: we must make for the shore.’ pqdm.com