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‘You have left spawn among the mortals,’ K’rul said to Vix. ‘They name themselves Trell, and make war with the Thelomen.’
Vix reached up to straighten his thin, wispy moustache, ensuring that the long black braids properly flanked his broad, tusked mouth. ‘I am profligate, to be sure. As for war, well, of course, why ever not?’
‘But you claim the Thelomen as your spawn as well,’ K’rul pointed out.
‘Just so. They actually share the same god. Me. And yet in my name they unleash hate and venom upon each other. Is that not amusing? Mortals are petty and vicious, unthinking and spiteful, inclined to stupidity and wilfully ignorant. I do so love them.’ He then made the habitual gesture K’rul had seen countless times before: reaching up to lightly brush the stitches sealing shut the lids of his left eye. ‘I contemplate a third breed, an admixture of Thelomen, Trell and Dog-Runner, whom I shall name Barghast. I expect they will war against everyone.’
‘Dog-Runner? I would think Olar Ethil might object to that, Vix.’
‘I piss in her fire. See how she objects to that.’
Sighing again, K’rul settled into a cross-legged position, facing Cera Planto once more. ‘And what have you been up to, my dear?’
‘We thought to explore an Azath House.’
‘In a boat?’
‘Unsuccessfully. But no matter. Eventually, Vix will lose this war of obstinacy and send us on our way once more. I foresee innumerable adventures in the offing.’ She collected up a small wooden carrying case, setting it on her lap before unclasping the lid and opening it. ‘In the meantime, I found a most iridescent breed of beetle on a tropical island, and had Vix collect as many of them as possible.’ She drew out a mortar and pestle, and then a bronze jar. ‘The wings, when finely ground and mixed with a drop of beeswax and olive oil, make for a most delightful kohl, don’t you think?’
‘Very enticing,’ K’rul said.
‘But you look pale. Decidedly too masculine, too, but never mind that. Almost bloodless, one might say. Have you been up to no good again?’
‘I have given freely of my power, Cera, not to any breed of mortal, but to all breeds of mortal. My blood swirls in the cosmos, swims to unmindful currents.’
Her deep blue eyes had narrowed and she now regarded him with vague disappointment. ‘Did you hear that, Vix? And you boasted of profligacy.’
Behind K’rul, Vix said, ‘Beware the Thelomen finding potent magic. Hmm. I shall have to pay them a visit, assuming once more the role of vengeful god.’
‘Do not wait too long,’ K’rul said to the tusked Azathanai behind him, ‘lest they do the swatting down.’
‘What a mess you’ve made,’ Vix said.
Shrugging, K’rul said, ‘It’s done. But now, with Skillen at my side, we set out to force some order upon the maelstrom.’
‘How?’ Cera Planto asked.
‘Dragons.’
‘Oh,’ said Cera. ‘Poor Skillen Droe!’
* * *
At last the mountains were behind Hanako and Lasa Rook, and ahead lay a level plain where even the forest dwindled, giving way to tufts of wiry grasses that looked sickly clinging to the salty clay. Hanako staggered woodenly beneath Erelan Kreed’s slack weight, while at his side Lasa Rook hummed a children’s song the words of which Hanako barely remembered, only that it was a tale of some orphan – and how many of those were there, anyway? – stealing fruit from some orchard, and some old witch who lived in an apple tree. One night the lad reached up and plucked the wrong fruit. Don’t mess with witches! ran the refrain, They’re rotten to the core!
Lasa Rook stopped humming abruptly, and then said, ‘Hanako of the Scars, your burden is exhausting you, leaving you little energy or attention to lavish upon me, and you well know how I enjoy being lavished. The situation, darling, is unsupportable.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Hanako, ‘if you could carry your own bedroll, and this cooking gear—’
‘Really? You would ask that of me? Why, if you were one of my husbands … but no, this time, in your ignorance, I shall forgive you. There is a force in the world – in all worlds, no doubt – like invisible fingers, ever plucking and pulling us down. Thus, as the years draw on, the face sags, the breasts too, and the belly and all places where the flesh bulges. It follows, sweet boy, that one must endeavour to diminish such burdens as best as one can. See this youthful visage? It remains so precisely because I have husbands to carry everything. Now, here you are, in their stead. If misery attends you, it is because you are yet to claim your reward. I am not to blame if you flatly refuse my appreciation!’
Hanako mumbled a mostly inarticulate apology.
They continued on, in uncomfortable silence, until they almost stumbled upon a lone figure before them. The man was seated cross-legged on the hard-packed clay, his back to them. An empty wooden bowl was at his side. He was gaunt, wizened and mostly hairless, and as Hanako and Lasa drew up to either side of him, he spoke without opening his eyes or shifting his head. ‘I believe the universe is expanding.’
The two Thel Akai halted, Hanako groaning as he let the body of Erelan Kreed slip down from his shoulder and into his arms, and then, as he crouched, on to the ground.
‘There is a manner,’ the stranger continued, ‘in which the soul can free itself of the flesh, and so wing swift as thought into the reaches of space. I have been contemplating this, as I dined. As one does. And it has occurred to me that the expanding universe is nothing more and nothing less than mortal souls in eternal flight. And that, should you somehow appear at the very edge of this ever-expanding creation, you would find the very first soul, impossibly ancient, so far along on its journey from its mortal flesh that not even dust remains of that body. We must be grateful to that soul, don’t you think? For … all of this.’
