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‘Sir, I meant retribution from Lord Draconus.’
Ivis started. He scowled. ‘Nothing upon you or them, Yalad. Make that plain. I will face Lord Draconus alone. I will take responsibility for what happened.’
‘Respectfully, sir, we don’t agree with that. None of us.’
‘Then you’re fools.’
‘Sir, what has happened to Lady Sandalath?’
‘She was broken.’
‘But … the other thing? The child—’
Ivis shook his head. ‘Enough. We will not speak of that.’
Nodding, Yalad fell back a few steps, leaving Ivis once more alone with his thoughts, which, he realized, proved an unwelcome return. The child deserves no reprobation. Surely, among all things before us, birth must be deemed innocent. There is no culpability in conception, none that should stain her. Nor, I suspect, the unwelcoming mother.
Ah, Sandalath, you have become a most ill-used hostage, your fates arrayed before us in condemnation of our promises to protect you. The blame is mine, as I stood in place of Lord Draconus, and again and again I have failed you.
Now comes sorcery with a rapist’s cock, the blunt demand denying all mercy. Crown the need, bedecked in raiment, and glory in the release, and all the power it announces with an unwanted child’s cry.
What spirit, freed of its chains as the flames rose, laid you down upon the stone floor? Caladan Brood shies from all comment. But something fierce with outrage burns in that Azathanai. I would know its face. I would know its name.
What had happened to Sandalath in Dracons Hold was a far crueller embrace than the one Olar Ethil had given to Ivis. He knew with a certainty that the fire-spirit, the goddess of the Dog-Runners, had taken for herself no active role in Sandalath’s fate. And yet … I felt her glee. And her turning of pain into vengeance invoked crimes I could not discern – perhaps even the crime of Sandalath’s fate. There was something old in all this, something full of ancient wounds and past betrayals.
We were all sorely used. And so, with grinding inexorability, his thoughts returned to his sense of helplessness, and his gaze fixed once more upon the broad back of Caladan Brood. Foolish Azathanai. You meddle among us, and we feel your contempt. But upon the day we have had enough of your torment, you will know the wrath of the Tiste. As did the Jhelarkan and the Forulkan.
Lord Anomander, let not these fools seduce you.
They were in darkness now, swallowed by the immanence of Mother Dark’s influence. Blind as indifference, this strange faith. The faint ethereal blue glow of the fallen snow made for a ghostly path, beckoning them into the last stretch of forest before the land opened out to the environs of the Wise City. Two, perhaps three days to the north gate.
Yalad returned. ‘Sir, our scouts flanking to east report birds.’
‘Birds?’
‘Many, many birds.’
‘How distant?’
‘Perhaps a third of a league, sir. They also say the snow beneath the trees has seen the passage of people.’
‘Which way?’
‘Every way, sir.’
‘Very well, collect a squad and pull out to the side. I will speak to Lord Anomander, and then join you.’
Nodding, Yalad moved off. Picking up his pace, Ivis hurried forward. ‘Milord!’
Both Anomander and Caladan halted and turned.
‘There has been a killing, Lord Anomander,’ Ivis said. ‘To the east, third of a league.’
‘You wish to investigate?’
‘Yes, milord.’
‘I will accompany you.’
