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Gripp said, ‘I shall set out tomorrow.’
‘No!’ Hish Tulla shouted. ‘He promised! Husband! You are free of him! Deny Kellaras – oh, forgive me, captain, I know it is not you – Gripp, listen! Deny Silchas. He has no right! Have you not already said so?’
‘I do this, wife, not for Silchas, but for Anomander.’
‘Don’t you understand?’ she demanded, leaning towards him. ‘He freed you. By solemn vow! Gripp, if you hunt him down, if you do what Silchas asks of you, he will be furious. He is no longer your master, and you no more his servant. The word given was Anomander’s – and that is the only one that will matter to him. Husband, please, I beg you. He is a man of honour—’
‘Who else can hope to find him and, more to the point, bring him back?’ Gripp asked her.
‘Husband, he freed you – he freed us – because that was what he wanted. It was his gift, to me and to you. Will you set it aside? Will you return it to his hands?’
‘Hish, you don’t understand—’
‘What is it that I do not understand, husband? I know these men—’
‘In many ways, yes, and better than any of us. I do not deny any of that, beloved. But it is also now clear to me that you don’t understand them in the ways that I do.’
She leaned back, expression tight, arms crossing. ‘Explain, then.’
‘Anomander will understand, Hish. Why I came, why I found him. He’ll understand, too, the words that I bring, and the necessity behind them.’
‘Why? He has no reason to!’
‘He has. Beloved, listen to me. Anomander …’ Gripp hesitated, his gaze faltering. A moment later, he seemed to tremble, and then, with a deep breath, he continued. ‘Beloved, Anomander does not trust Silchas.’
There was silence at the table. Kellaras slowly closed his eyes. Yes. Of course. And yet…
‘Then why,’ Hish asked, her voice rasping, ‘did he ever leave?’
‘For Andarist,’ Gripp replied without hesitation. ‘They are three, yes, with Anomander upon one point, Silchas the other. But the one who binds them, who maintains the balance – that one is Andarist. Anomander is facing more than one schism.’
‘Then,’ said Hish Tulla, suddenly rising, ‘you will bring him here first.’
‘I will,’ Gripp said.
‘Your pardons,’ Kellaras said, looking to them both, and ignoring Pelk’s sudden hand upon his left arm, ‘but no. He must return to the Citadel—’
‘Captain,’ said Hish in something like a snarl, ‘we have another guest.’
‘Andarist,’ said Gripp, slumping back in his chair.
‘Then … then, Abyss below, summon him! Here!’
‘No point,’ said Gripp. ‘He would refuse you. He has claimed a wing here in the house, barricaded, the doors locked. His flight into the wilderness, away from the scene of slaughter, brought him, eventually, to us. Well,’ he amended, ‘to Hish Tulla. Who, in his moment of greatest need, had taken him into her arms, when none other dared.’ After a moment, the old man shrugged. ‘We sent him our servants. None returned to us. Presumably, they feed him, keep the chambers clean …’
Kellaras slowly sat back, dumbfounded, appalled.
‘That is why,’ said Gripp, ‘when I find Anomander, it will be here that we come. Before Kharkanas.’
Kellaras nodded. ‘Yes, Gripp Galas. Yes. Of course.’
Pelk pulled at his arm, angled him on to his feet. Confused, he swung to her.
‘He leaves tomorrow, does Gripp,’ she said, trying to hold him with her eyes.
Kellaras glanced across at Hish Tulla, and saw in her face such desolation as to blur his vision. See me now, Oh Prazek and Dathenar? You are not alone in grieving over the discord I bring. This task of mine … I did not choose it. It finds me. Alas, it finds me.
* * *
