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‘Faith belongs to the mortal mind,’ said Resh, ‘but one look in the mirror will tell you that it is a lamb in the care of the wolf.’
‘And now you are flayed by guilt, left crushed by your own recriminations? I did not think self-pity could be made sacred, but it seems that you have managed it easily enough, warlock, and would make indulgent weeping its libation. And what is to be your sacrifice? Why, only yourself, of course.’
He snorted. ‘Speaks the woman who tramples upon her own rank. Who tells me that Calat Hustain has no more need for her.’
After a moment, Finarra offered a wry shrug. ‘Then we find comfort in our company.’
Resh looked away. He sighed. ‘I have no leash to bind Caplo Dreem. Must I deliver another crime into the presence of Mother Dark?’
‘He is your friend, not mine.’
‘Was. Now, I am not so sure.’ He met her eyes. ‘Do you seek to guard against his treachery? Will you draw your blade to defend Mother Dark?’
‘Against a dozen beasts? Death will come swiftly.’
‘Then why refuse my desire to send you away?’
‘I will travel to Kharkanas, warlock, in your company or alone.’
‘What do you seek there?’
She said nothing. The truth was, she had no answer to his question, but she felt bound to the fate of the Shake now, like a leaf joining a mass of detritus, impelled by the gathering of its own weight as it swung into the current. But what waited downstream remained unknown. Resh sought a purpose for his brothers and sisters, and believed that he would find knowledge in his study of the Terondai.
And what of Caplo Dreem, blood-tainted and, these days, almost emptied of words? A feral promise glimmered in his eyes. He was now a man quick to bare his teeth. Only a fool would not fear what he had become.
‘The sorcery,’ said Resh, cutting into her thoughts, ‘now pours like blood from a fatal wound. If we are not careful, captain, Kurald Galain will drown in its flood.’
‘Then use it, warlock. Use it up if you can.’
‘A dangerous invitation.’
‘Are you a child, then?’ she snapped. ‘Unmindful of constraint?’
‘A child?’ He seemed to consider the suggestion, indifferent to the challenge in her tone. ‘Yes, I believe. All of us now. Children. Crowded into a small room, and upon the floor in its centre, a chest filled with knives.’
Suddenly chilled, Finarra Stone turned away, gathering up her gloves and cape from the bench near the door. ‘Will you just stand there? Am I to be Caplo’s only escort, then?’
They were startled by a sudden racking cough from Sheccanto. The nurse, sitting almost forgotten beside the bed, lunged forward to catch the old woman before she fell. Rocked by the jostling of the nurse, Sheccanto said, ‘The royal blood is thinned, but I taste it still. The Watch withers in his solitude, a prince dreaming of his sister. She will know the sword in her hand, and she will rise at the day’s end, and so be known as Twilight. Neither monk nor nun, but one of the blood. The Shake must have a queen. Upon the shore … a queen.’ Her eyes widened and she stiffened in the nurse’s arms. ‘Oh bless me! My children do not deserve that!’
She slumped back, head lolling. ‘Let the Vitr take it,’ she mumbled. ‘Silver fire … the flesh from the bones …’
Resh advanced towards her. ‘Higher Grace, do you speak prophecy?’
She lifted her head with sudden strength and met the warlock’s eyes. ‘Prophecy? Fuck prophecy. Immortal shadow, I see the reasons. He is forever restless. You’ll know him by that habit.’ Then her seamed face stretched into a tortured smile. ‘Oh, clever boy. I give him that.’
‘Higher Grace?’
‘When the First Son comes to you, answer his need. Die for the love you have never known, and never will. Die to save what you will never see. Die in the name of children not yet born. Die for the cause not your own. Go, lover of men, go. Nine assassins await you.’ Then she pulled an arm loose from the nurse’s grip and pointed at Finarra Stone. ‘She knows the sword in her hand. Warlock! Kneel to Twilight. Kneel to your queen.’ An instant later, Sheccanto slumped back once more, eyes closing.
Resh leaned closer.
The nurse shook her head. ‘Sleep, warlock, that is all.’
Reeling, Resh pulled away. He faced Finarra with fevered eyes.
‘It means nothing,’ Finarra said. ‘Pay her words no heed. Come, the day is nearing its end. We must set out now, or wait until the morning.’
When she quitted the bedchamber, Resh followed. He said nothing in her wake, but Finarra’s mind was filled with the look he had given her, its raw need, its terrible thirst.
