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‘Well, that is just it, young Arathan. By the time you and Korya return to Kurald Galain, the smoke will have cleared as it were. The dust settled, the mass burial trenches filled in, and so on and so forth. From this it is probably safe to assume the ousting of your father. Indeed, I would be surprised to find him anywhere in that realm.’
‘Then, what will I be returning to?’
‘Ashes and ruin,’ Gothos replied, with a satisfied smile.
* * *
‘I advise against this,’ Korya said, studying the Azath House with its freshly mangled, sapling-crowded yard. ‘The guardian is a ghost, and a miserable one at that. Truly, Ifayle, nothing of wisdom will come from that thing.’
‘And yet,’ said the Dog-Runner, ‘he was once of my kind.’
She sighed. ‘Yes, as I told you.’
‘Then I would speak with him.’
‘The house may not let us in. It’s stronger now … more potent. Can you not feel it?’
He glanced at her with his startling blue eyes. ‘I am not a Bonecaster. My sensitivities lie elsewhere.’ His attention sharpened on her. ‘Mahybe. Vessel. Yes, I see that you share something with this house.’
‘What?’
‘A similarity of purpose, perhaps.’ Abruptly he turned about to stare northward with narrowed intent. ‘My grieving kin are on the move.’
‘How – how do you know that?’
Shrugging, he said, ‘It is near time, isn’t it?’
Korya hesitated, unable to meet his gaze when at last he faced her again.
‘Ah,’ he said softly, ‘you wanted to get me away.’
‘Where they’re going is not for you,’ she said. ‘Now, will you speak with Cadig Aval or not? We’ve come all this way, after all.’
When she walked through the yard’s gate and on to the winding pathway, Ifayle followed.
‘You have a devious mind, Korya Delath. But you misapprehended. I am but an escort, a keeper of sorts. My mother forbade me to enter the realm of death.’
‘When did she do that?’
‘Not long ago. Her pronouncement upset me, but I understand. Grief cannot be borrowed. And yet, with her soon gone from me, it seems that I will come to know my own grief. It is, I think, like a flower passed from one to the next, generation upon generation. A solemn hue, a poignant scent that stings the eyes.’
They stood before the door. Korya nodded and said, ‘It seemed too easy, persuading you to come with me.’
‘Mother knew you for a sly one,’ Ifayle said, with a sad smile. ‘We have made our parting. I do not expect to see her again.’
‘Come with me,’ she suddenly offered, her breath catching as the notion took hold in her mind. ‘Come with us, me and Arathan, to Kurald Galain!’
He frowned. ‘And what awaits me there?’
‘No idea. Does it matter?’
‘My people—’
‘Will still be there, whenever you decide it’s time to go home.’ If you decide to go home at all, that is, she silently added. After all, with you along, fair Ifayle, I can take my time deciding.
‘I have seen this Arathan,’ Ifayle said musingly, ‘but we have not spoken. Indeed, it seems he deliberately avoids me.’
‘Haut says he is to be my protector,’ Korya said, ‘but to be honest, it’s probably the other way round. He’s led a sheltered life, has seen and experienced little. I see little future for Arathan, to be honest. It may be that our family will have to take him in.’ She sighed. ‘Your company on the journey, Ifayle, would be most welcome. Indeed, a relief.’
