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‘Widowers with nothing to lose, but the taste of blood on the tongue invites a recurring thirst.’
‘For them, or you?’
Sharenas smiled across at the woman. ‘Pelk. Once on Urusander’s staff. You never had much to say.’
‘Sending soldiers out to fight and die demands little, as you well know, captain.’
‘You were a trainer. A weapon master.’
‘I did what must be done to make an army, captain,’ said Pelk, drawing closer, eyes now scanning the frozen, contorted bodies in the snow. ‘Made orphans of you all, and then showed you the teats of the only bitch left, and her name was War.’
The words chilled Sharenas – her first real sense of cold in what seemed weeks. ‘I am undecided about you two, so halt your advance, Pelk. Be warned, I am now a sorceress.’
‘A piss-poor one,’ Pelk snapped. ‘You look starved. You’re filthy, and you stink.’
‘These ones,’ said Gripp Galas. ‘They were hunting you? Whose company?’
‘Hallyd Bahann. If he isn’t dead, he should be.’ Sharenas paused, and then said, ‘I would have butchered them all in their damned tents, but as it was, I got to Esthala and her useless husband. And Serap Issgin. Before running out of time.’
‘And who set this task upon you, captain?’
Sharenas studied Pelk’s flat face, bemused by her question. ‘Urusander.’
‘By his command?’
‘By his utter uselessness.’
‘And these ones?’
‘Deniers, Pelk. That much should be obvious.’ She grinned at Gripp Galas. ‘Precious Legion soldiers, so finely trained and honed by Weapon Master Pelk there, hunted down like animals.’
Gripp Galas said, ‘We have food, captain.’
‘As do I.’
‘Then the choice is yours,’ he replied. ‘Feast here, or return to civilization.’
Her laugh broke into a cackle and she spread her arms, taking in the battlefield. ‘Yes! This civilization! Strip me down, bathe me, dress me, and see to the buckles of my belt and armour, and why, I can march in step with you. Orphan no longer, hey, Pelk?’
‘Better that than this, captain. Or have you truly acquired a taste for Tiste flesh?’
‘Haven’t we all? Oh, I know, my crime here is my lack of subtlety. No, take your bulging bellies and leave me be, both of you. I care not what mission drags you into this forest, and the Deniers won’t bother asking, either. Await the greeting arrows, but save your shocked looks for them, not me.’
She crouched, cut free a large piece of frozen meat from a woman’s thigh.
From the trees, ravens screamed their outrage.
Gesturing, Gripp Galas led Pelk off to their left, westward. The road was not far in that direction. Perhaps they thought it safer.
Well, my love, I’ll allow them this: if not safer, then certainly more civil in its habit of passage. To and fro, on matters of grave import. Enough self-importance to deflect an arrow’s flight? We’ll see, I suppose. Darling of mine, I have reached such a noble state, that even dignity tastes like raw meat.
Satisfied with the cut she now held in her left hand, she set off in the opposite direction.
* * *
Gripp’s sigh was rough, jagged. ‘Have we seen the future, Pelk?’
‘Now there’s a lesson,’ she replied as they wound among the blackened boles of the trees.
