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‘Some other task commands him.’
‘Hunn Raal will grant us no favours in the court, Infayen.’
‘No, he will turn on us all.’
‘We need to consider our … options.’
‘That is your need, Tathe Lorat, not mine. The Infayen line finds a grave in every battle. That said, perhaps you would take my daughter under your care when that time comes.’
‘You trust me in this? I will see her sullied. The light of her young eyes dulled with use. Children are like dolls, and this woman here at your side plays rough.’
Infayen turned and smiled at her. ‘You’ve not met my daughter yet, have you?’
Tathe Lorat shrugged. ‘Have you met mine?’
‘Menandore is no fool.’
‘Nor is Sheltatha Lorat, I assure you.’
Infayen frowned. ‘And yet …’
Shrugging, Tathe Lorat drew her heavy cloak about her shoulders and turned back to the camp. ‘Break them young, and all that they make of themselves afterwards lies thinly over the scars.’
Infayen swung round and joined the other captain as they walked back into the army’s encampment. She sighed. ‘Some mothers should never be mothers at all.’
‘I expect both our daughters would agree with you, Infayen Menand.’
* * *
The master blacksmith of Urusander’s Legion was a squat, broad, scar-faced man of middle years. He stood with his back to his forge, limned in its fiery glow, his small eyes narrowed on Hunn Raal. ‘Now what?’
The Mortal Sword of Light glared at the smith. ‘Maybe it’s not big enough,’ he said.
‘Big enough for what?’
‘Legion discipline seems to have failed your manners, Bilikk.’
‘The commander sent me to work in Gurren’s stead. I’m as much the town’s smith as the Legion’s. Besides,’ he added, ‘word is you don’t take the title of captain no more. Mortal Sword? What the fuck is that? Ain’t no Legion rank I ever heard of. You lookin’ for worshippers now? Fuck that on a stick.’
There was a sound from the door to Gurren’s old house and Witch Hale emerged, drawing a tattered shawl about her narrow shoulders. ‘Hunn Raal,’ she said, making the name a sneer. ‘What you’re calling for here isn’t Legion work. Heard you went and stood in a fire. Burned half your clothes off, but left you uncharred. That’s ugly magic, Raal. You want to stay away from the flame bitch, she’s got appetites you don’t want to know.’ She cocked her head, regarding Hunn Raal. ‘Or maybe it’s too late. It is, isn’t it?’
‘You were not invited, witch,’ Hunn Raal said. ‘Don’t test my patience. Go.’
‘Me and Bilikk got history between us now,’ Hale replied. ‘Where he goes, I go.’
‘This is Liosan business.’
‘And we all got stained, didn’t we? Only, when your mind decides it’s not sure, wh
y, the glow fades.’ She lifted an arm, letting the loose sleeve slip down, revealing her scrawny, ashen wrist. ‘’Tis strange purity that washes off, don’t you think?’
‘The stains of your sins hardly surprise me, witch. Your magic’s a sordid thing. Unwelcome on this sanctified ground, and do not think for a moment that all of Neret Sorr isn’t sanctified, in the name of Tiste Liosan.’
‘I feel it,’ she said. ‘But I don’t fear it. Neither does the flame bitch.’
‘You think you can stand against me?’
‘I don’t care about you, Raal. It’s Bilikk I mean to guard this night.’
