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He saw no weapons on her. Nor was she wearing armour. She walked up and reached out, snaring thick fingers under the strap of his helm, and then dragged him close. He strained as she lifted him from the ground to peer into his face. Then, before he began choking, she lowered him down and released him. Saying nothing, she stepped past and made her way into the tower.
Arathan still felt her hard knuckles under his jaw. The muscles of his neck and back throbbed with pain. Fumbling, he unstrapped the helm and dragged it from his head, and then pulled off his leather cap. The rain pelting his head was like ice. He turned and looked out into the city, until Hellar nudged him.
Collecting up the reins, he led his mounts through the doorway.
Within was a single room, at least fifteen paces across. Calaras stood near the wall opposite, and his father had been emptying a bag of feed in front of him. Draconus had turned and straightened with the strange woman’s arrival.
She was divesting herself of her furs near the centre of the room, dropping them to the stone floor around her feet. Beneath them she was naked. ‘Of all your spawn, Suzerain,’ she said in a thin voice, ‘I sensed no madness in this one.’ She looked up with an almost shy glance and added, ‘I trust you killed all the others. A big stone to crush their skulls, and then you wrenched free their heads from their bodies. Dismembered and fed into the fires of the hottest forge. Until nothing but ashes remained.’
‘Kilmandaros,’ said Draconus. ‘You are far from your home.’
She grunted. ‘No one ever visits. For long.’ Her attention swung to Arathan as he edged his horses past her. ‘Is he awakened?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Draconus replied. ‘And yes.’
‘Then you did not save him for me.’
‘Kilmandaros, we met your husband upon the trail.’
‘And my son, too, I expect. With that wretched friend of his, who did what you asked of him.’
To that Draconus said nothing, turning instead to his son. ‘Arathan, ready us a small fire when you are done with your horses. There is fuel against the wall to your left.’
Discomforted, struggling to keep his eyes from the woman’s nakedness, Arathan set down his helm and concentrated on unsaddling Hellar and Besra.
‘We also met your sister in spirit, if not blood,’ Draconus said.
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He saw no weapons on her. Nor was she wearing armour. She walked up and reached out, snaring thick fingers under the strap of his helm, and then dragged him close. He strained as she lifted him from the ground to peer into his face. Then, before he began choking, she lowered him down and released him. Saying nothing, she stepped past and made her way into the tower.
Arathan still felt her hard knuckles under his jaw. The muscles of his neck and back throbbed with pain. Fumbling, he unstrapped the helm and dragged it from his head, and then pulled off his leather cap. The rain pelting his head was like ice. He turned and looked out into the city, until Hellar nudged him.
Collecting up the reins, he led his mounts through the doorway.
Within was a single room, at least fifteen paces across. Calaras stood near the wall opposite, and his father had been emptying a bag of feed in front of him. Draconus had turned and straightened with the strange woman’s arrival.
She was divesting herself of her furs near the centre of the room, dropping them to the stone floor around her feet. Beneath them she was naked. ‘Of all your spawn, Suzerain,’ she said in a thin voice, ‘I sensed no madness in this one.’ She looked up with an almost shy glance and added, ‘I trust you killed all the others. A big stone to crush their skulls, and then you wrenched free their heads from their bodies. Dismembered and fed into the fires of the hottest forge. Until nothing but ashes remained.’
‘Kilmandaros,’ said Draconus. ‘You are far from your home.’
She grunted. ‘No one ever visits. For long.’ Her attention swung to Arathan as he edged his horses past her. ‘Is he awakened?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Draconus replied. ‘And yes.’
‘Then you did not save him for me.’
‘Kilmandaros, we met your husband upon the trail.’
‘And my son, too, I expect. With that wretched friend of his, who did what you asked of him.’
To that Draconus said nothing, turning instead to his son. ‘Arathan, ready us a small fire when you are done with your horses. There is fuel against the wall to your left.’
Discomforted, struggling to keep his eyes from the woman’s nakedness, Arathan set down his helm and concentrated on unsaddling Hellar and Besra.
‘We also met your sister in spirit, if not blood,’ Draconus said.
Kilmandaros made a hissing sound. ‘I leave her to grow fat on superstitions. One day the Forulkan will hunger for Dog-Runner land, and we will resume our war and, perchance, end it.’
‘You would make weapons of your followers?’
‘What other good are they, Suzerain? Besides, the Forulkan do not worship me. They have made illimitable law their god, even as they suffer its ceaseless corruption at their own hands. At some point,’ she said, moving close to stand directly behind Arathan, ‘they will deem manifest their right to all that the Dog-Runners own, and make of this law a zealotry to justify genocide.’
‘Foolish,’ Draconus pronounced. ‘I am told that there are Jaghut among the Dog-Runners now, assuming thrones of godhood and tyranny. Did the Forulkan not suffer sufficient humiliation against the Tiste, that they would now make bold claims against both Dog-Runner and Jaghut?’
‘That depends,’ she said, ‘on what I whisper in their ears.’
Feeling the breath of her words on the back of his neck, Arathan quickly went to the other horse and began removing the tack.
She came close again.
‘Tyranny breeds,’ Draconus said from across the room, ‘when by every worthy measure it should starve.’
‘Scarcity begets strife, Suzerain, is what you meant. It was hunger that sent my children against the Tiste-’
‘Hunger for iron. The need was manufactured, the justification invented. But this is a stale argument between us. I have forgiven you, but only because you failed.’
‘And so I weigh your magnanimity, Suzerain, and find it light on the scales. But as you say, this is behind us now.’
When her hand slipped round, over Arathan’s left hip, and slid down to his crotch, Draconus said, ‘Leave off, Kilmandaros.’
The hand withdrew and Kilmandaros moved away. ‘The night is young,’ she said, sighing. ‘I know his desires and would satisfy them. This is between him and me, not you, Suzerain.’
‘I have words that will drive you away,’ Draconus said.
‘You would do that to me? And to him?’
‘Arathan will cease to concern you, I’m afraid. But that is a consequence of what I must tell you, not its purpose.’
