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Wreneck stared after the man, and saw now that the Houseblades were making up an encampment.
No, I cannot wait that long. I need to talk to Orfantal before his mother does. I need to explain things.
Wreneck continued forward, in time to arrive close to Lord Anomander even as Silchas Ruin and another man reined in.
To one side, Gripp Galas turned to Pelk and Wreneck heard him say, ‘Lady Hish Tulla is in the city. Find her, Pelk—’
‘In a moment,’ Pelk replied, her gaze fixed on the man beside Silchas Ruin, and Wreneck saw that he studied her in return.
As Pelk moved forward, the man dismounted, and an instant later they were in each other’s arms.
All this before either brother had spoken, and both lords now looked on, startled perhaps, while Pelk and the man embraced.
From where Wreneck stood, he saw the man’s eyes shut, his lips moving as he whispered to her, and she held him all the tighter.
Silchas Ruin broke the moment. ‘Brother, did you find Andarist?’
‘I have set that aside, Silchas,’ replied Anomander. ‘The sword at my hip retains its name, forged in the heat of my outrage. And yet, had I imagined our Mother’s staying hand, I might have set Vengeance upon the blade of my dagger instead. Of all the myriad scenes in the tumult of possibility awaiting us, I would not shy from striking from darkness and shadow. A blow between the shoulder blades no longer seems so crass.’
Anomander’s words drew round all who stood near enough to hear them. When Pelk and Kellaras pulled apart, Pelk stepped back and then, with a nod towards Gripp Galas, set off for the city gate. Wreneck watched her go with an ache in his chest. Jinia sent me away, because of all the broken things inside her. But one day I will return to her, and my love will mend every broken thing inside both of us. Even the stables that caught fire, which is when everything awful first began. Milady said that I was to blame. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was my fault after all. I can’t remember. Could be I killed all those horses. I need to fix that hurt – because it still hurts, if I was the one who did it, and if it wasn’t Sandalath who met her man there and the lantern they’d lit so they could see each other getting drunk on the wine he’d brought with his one arm. If it wasn’t that after all, but me, spying on them and watching what they did when they put their hips together and moved like dancing on the straw, and the horses shuffled and nickered and the lantern light was steady, but the straw stalks were pushed up against the lantern by their feet, up against the hot glaze. I should have seen that, instead of watching them.
It began there, all the hurts. Began with the screams of dying horses, and two shadowy figures running out before the flames got them, and there was Lady Nerys with her cane and she shrieked at me since I was standing right there, watching the fire and listening to the horses, and those blows came down and they hurt so bad but then I got hit on the head and things went numb and strange and that’s why I don’t remember anything any more about that night.
Except what I maybe made up. Her and that one-armed man.
But it was you who cared for me after that, Jinia. And I didn’t forget. I can’t forget. And that’s why I’ll fix everything. Soon. I just need to kill some people first.
‘A dagger from the shadows. You describe betrayal, my brother.’
‘Array before me all manner of obstacles, vengeance finds its own path.’
With a grunt, Gripp Galas said, ‘Just ask Hunn Raal. About betrayal. See how he weighs it in his own mind, Lord Silchas. If need be, I will be the hand and the knife both—’
At that Anomander swung to face his old friend. ‘No. I forbid it, Gripp Galas. Too often have you struck in my stead. Your time as my quiet justice is done. Have we not spoken? Return to your wife. I am past all need for you.’
The harsh words seemed to batter at Gripp Galas, and all the fire of his own rage died in his old man’s eyes. With a single bow, he turned away and walked, unsteadily to Wreneck’s eyes, towards Kharkanas, trailing in Pelk’s wake.
‘We await word on the disposition of the Hust Legion,’ Silchas said to Anomander.
The First Son spoke to Kellaras. ‘Captain, are our Houseblades assembled?’
‘Yes, milord. And the highborn have indeed answered the call. The Greater Houses are all here.’
Silchas Ruin made to speak then, but his brother spoke first. ‘Silchas, I thank you for all that you have done. I know you were reluctant, and yet you indulged me in my efforts to reconcile with Andarist.’ He hesitated, and then continued. ‘It may be that the blood of family, so quick to turn sour on the tongue, had misguided me. In the name of one family, I neglected the other. We three brothers matter less than the Tiste Andii – is this not the burden of command?’
Silchas Ruin’s voice was flat. ‘There have been developments, Anomander. Of those, in a moment. What do you now intend?’
‘I must defy our Mother, in the name of her sons and daughters. Silchas, I will draw my sword. I will take command.’
Silchas was silent for a long moment, and then he nodded. ‘I thank you for that, brother. Give me command of our Houseblades and I will be more than content. Of the more grave demands awaiting us, I leave them to you.’
Anomander sighed and nodded. ‘And these developments?’
Silchas made a gesture for patience before turning to Kellaras. ‘Captain, return to our company. I will be inspecting them shortly.’
Kellaras glanced at Anomander, who remained expressionless, and then the captain saluted Lord Silchas Ruin, wheeled his horse, and set off.
To Wreneck’s eyes, the world seemed to acquire a glow, as of golden light trembling on water. He could smell the old gods of the forest, closing in, crowding around him. But they said nothing, as if they were, one and all, holding their breath.
