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‘Yes sir.’ It struck Faror, suddenly, that in Calat Hustain and his wife, Toras Redone, she saw a possible fate for her and Kagamandra Tulas. It seemed they knew little of each other and were content to keep it that way. That Calat did not know his wife’s mind on the matter of her faith, and what it might lead her to do with her legion, struck her as pathetic, and, in this instance, potentially disastrous.
‘One last thing,’ Calat Hustain said, ‘you are to bypass Kharkanas. Cross the river well downstream and avoid contact with Legion garrisons or troops.’
She thought back to her commander’s earlier words. ‘Sir, I could seek out my betrothed in the city, if only upon my return from the Hust Legion encampment.’
‘You could, but you shall not. Kharkanas is about to become a web. With an indifferent mistress at its centre, I foresee a convergence of
… males, each one eager for her embrace.’
‘Sir, your analogy invites the notion that whoever wins will end up being devoured… by Mother Dark. This seems an odd victory.’
He grunted. ‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’
Neither spoke for a time, until Faror Hend began to wonder if she had been dismissed.
Then Calat spoke. ‘You were displeased when the Yan Shake assumed responsibility for the Azathanai. I imagine they now regret their presumption.’
She thought back to Caplo Dreem with his airs of superiority, and Warlock Resh’s bludgeoning presence. ‘It would be pleasing to think so, sir. But then, by the Azathanai’s will, their river god was resurrected.’
‘Just so, and from this added injury to their ambitions, Warden, I wager your name has been cursed more than once.’
‘Sir, you imply a taint of cynicism to the brothers and sisters of the cult.’
‘You think me pessimistic by nature, Warden? Perhaps you are right. When Captain Finarra Stone is busy speaking with Mother Sheccanto, take the measure of the Shake. I will value your opinion on their determination.’
‘Sir, I am already of the opinion that Urusander’s Legion will regret antagonizing the Shake.’
‘If they rely upon the neutrality of the Wardens, then indeed they will.’
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‘Yes sir.’ It struck Faror, suddenly, that in Calat Hustain and his wife, Toras Redone, she saw a possible fate for her and Kagamandra Tulas. It seemed they knew little of each other and were content to keep it that way. That Calat did not know his wife’s mind on the matter of her faith, and what it might lead her to do with her legion, struck her as pathetic, and, in this instance, potentially disastrous.
‘One last thing,’ Calat Hustain said, ‘you are to bypass Kharkanas. Cross the river well downstream and avoid contact with Legion garrisons or troops.’
She thought back to her commander’s earlier words. ‘Sir, I could seek out my betrothed in the city, if only upon my return from the Hust Legion encampment.’
‘You could, but you shall not. Kharkanas is about to become a web. With an indifferent mistress at its centre, I foresee a convergence of
… males, each one eager for her embrace.’
‘Sir, your analogy invites the notion that whoever wins will end up being devoured… by Mother Dark. This seems an odd victory.’
He grunted. ‘Yes, it does, doesn’t it?’
Neither spoke for a time, until Faror Hend began to wonder if she had been dismissed.
Then Calat spoke. ‘You were displeased when the Yan Shake assumed responsibility for the Azathanai. I imagine they now regret their presumption.’
She thought back to Caplo Dreem with his airs of superiority, and Warlock Resh’s bludgeoning presence. ‘It would be pleasing to think so, sir. But then, by the Azathanai’s will, their river god was resurrected.’
‘Just so, and from this added injury to their ambitions, Warden, I wager your name has been cursed more than once.’
‘Sir, you imply a taint of cynicism to the brothers and sisters of the cult.’
‘You think me pessimistic by nature, Warden? Perhaps you are right. When Captain Finarra Stone is busy speaking with Mother Sheccanto, take the measure of the Shake. I will value your opinion on their determination.’
‘Sir, I am already of the opinion that Urusander’s Legion will regret antagonizing the Shake.’
‘If they rely upon the neutrality of the Wardens, then indeed they will.’
Shock rippled through Faror Hend and then she nodded. ‘We delivered T’riss to the Shake, sir, it is true. Rather, I did, and so I must bear some responsibility for all that has happened.’
‘Hardly. The Azathanai set out seeking an audience with Mother Dark. She would have managed it sooner or later even if unaccompanied.’
‘But would she have resurrected the river god if she had not encountered the Shake?’
He shrugged. ‘That we will never know. We deceive ourselves if we imagine that we proceed through life with any semblance of control over what is to come, and we should be thankful for the humility. For if it had been otherwise, if indeed every event in history were guided by our hands, then we have long since relinquished any claim to virtue. Every triumph we might weigh would be little more than a redressing of scales to answer our own crimes in the past.’ He gestured, as if dismissing not only his own words, but all of history and its host of sordid truths.
‘Sir, when I depart the monastery, will Spinnock Durav remain with the captain?’
‘Spinnock Durav will be riding with me to the Sea of Vitr, Warden.’
‘Oh. I see.’
He studied her. ‘Observe well the likely failure of my intercession, Faror Hend, and consider for yourself the crimes your loss of control shall force upon not just you, but many others.’
She felt herself grow cold and was unable to respond.
Calat Hustain looked away. ‘Dismissed,’ he said.
Faror Hend stepped out back into the main hall, her thoughts in turmoil. She saw her captain seated in her place at Spinnock’s side. The thought of joining them sickened her. This is Finarra’s work. She’s spun lies in Calat’s ear. Spinnock needs no mothering from you, captain, and by age alone you are a poor meet to his challenge.
Fury warred with shame in her. And now I must ride with you, obedient at your side. I am no child to be so curbed, and one day I will show you all the truth of that.
Glancing up, Finarra Stone caught Faror’s eye. The captain rose and approached.
‘Our mounts are being readied, Warden,’ she said.
‘Very good, sir. I will see to my kit.’
‘There is a pallor to your cast,’ Finarra said. ‘Are you unwell?’
Faror shook her head. ‘No sir.’
The captain ventured a faint smile. ‘I dread to think that the substance of the message you are to deliver to the Hust Legion has so stolen the life from your face.’
