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‘Lord Anomander has taken command of the Draconus Houseblades. Lastly, by signal flags above the Citadel, the Hust Legion even now makes for the Valley of Tarns. It is time to assemble and ride from the city.’
‘Lord Anomander takes command? Not Silchas Ruin?’
Pelk shrugged. ‘If he has not already announced it, he will, milady. The First Son of Darkness will defy Mother Dark.’
At that Gripp Galas turned, shock written deep in the lines of his face.
Pelk continued. ‘If Lord Anomander refuses you both, it is because he wants you to live. No, he needs you to live. There will be sorcery. The slaughter awaiting us may be absolute.’
‘What of our honour?’ demande
d Hish Tulla.
Pelk scowled. ‘In this new war of magic, milady, honour cannot exist. Respect dies with the distance, the very remoteness of murder. Battle becomes a chore, but one swiftly concluded, and only the ravens will dance.’ She set her hand again upon the pommel of her weapon. ‘All my skill, all that I gave my life to teaching – my very vow to see my students survive – is now meaningless. If death can strike without discrimination, then truly we are fallen. I see a future in which spirit dies, and if this day is to be my last, I will not regret it too much.’ She glanced at Gripp Galas. ‘I expect Kellaras to join me in the dust of death, so think not to chide me again, Gripp Galas.’
Neither Gripp nor Hish Tulla had anything to say to that.
Pelk nodded. ‘Now, by your leave, I will return to your uncle, and inform him of his command.’
‘See that they fight,’ Hish Tulla said, but her tone was empty, hollowed out. ‘You are his second in command. Make certain that he understands that.’
‘I will, milady, and should he betray, I will cut him down in the instant.’
‘I doubt,’ said Hish Tulla as she gestured her servants closer again – this time to begin removing her armour – ‘Venes Turayd holds any delusions about your resolve, Pelk.’ She turned her head to her husband. ‘What say you, beloved? Shall we ride to my western keep?’
Gripp frowned at her. ‘You will surrender all responsibility?’
‘He loves us too dearly, does he not? We shall depart, bearing the cuts of our freedom.’ She shrugged. ‘Our trail will be obvious enough, by the blood we drip. Pelk, keep Rancept close.’
‘Of course, milady, if such a thing is possible—’
‘I said keep him close, Pelk. There is sorcery in that man, far older than anything Hunn Raal might use.’
‘Rancept?’
‘He is Shake, Pelk. A Denier, if you must use the term. But more than that, he once dwelt among the Dog-Runners. He is the child of a different mother. Hold him to your side, Pelk, for I would see you again.’
Pelk bowed.
Hish Tulla said to her husband, ‘You did as Kellaras asked. You returned Lord Anomander to his senses. He commands you no longer.’
‘Yes, beloved.’
‘Never again.’
He nodded.
Pelk departed the chamber, feeling strangely elated, almost content. Whatever came of this day, love would survive. She understood Lord Anomander, and the offence he had taken at Gripp’s return. In this one instance, honour had lost the battle, and simple decency would prevail.
She approached the outer door, eager to both delight and irritate Venes Turayd. Then they would set out for the Valley of Tarns, leading the Houseblades of House Tulla, and she would ride behind Venes and, at her side, old bent Rancept, his breaths as harsh as those of the horse he straddled.
Kellaras would live or he would die. No different from Pelk herself. And you, Ivis, you old fool. Find your new love if you can when all this is done. We’re past every regret, and the past has lost all its claws, all its teeth, and can hurt us no more.
Now, time had come to face the dying day. She kicked open the door.
TWENTY-FIVE
ALTHOUGH IT LEFT HIM WITH CONFUSED EMOTIONS TUGGING him this way and that, the idea pursued Orfantal, and L. no matter where his mind raced, the idea swept up around him the instant he paused. Children should be able to choose their own mothers. Of course such a thing was impossible. And yet, was it not even worse that mothers could not choose their children? He knew enough about being unwanted and unwelcome. He knew even more about being a disappointment.
