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‘There is one,’ Sharenas said. ‘We gauge their deeds in life, for some. For others, we measure our distance from them, and the closer they are, the deeper we grieve. When you speak of a deluge of tears, I see not a blessed ocean, High Priestess, but a bitter sea. The laws that bind us are measured by the limits of our flesh, and the capacity of our souls. What you demand would empty us-’
‘Leaving what?’
‘The Abyss.’
‘A crowded soul, captain, is a place of shadows and gloom. Scour it clean, and nothing will remain to block the light. Hear me. I tell you, I am so afflicted. I am burned away inside. All that remains of the woman I once was is this shell you see before you, and see how even it is transformed by the Light burning in my soul.’ She stepped closer to Urusander. ‘Lord, do what needs to be done, to return Kurald Galain to peace. I will await you, and as proof of my power I will yield now this gift.’
Kagamandra Tulas rose suddenly, sending the chair toppling. Hands to his face, he staggered to the door, and then into the corridor. The sound of his feet as he fled was like that of a drunken man.
Sharenas snarled something Serap could not make out, and then rushed after her friend.
A moment later golden light spilled out from the High Priestess, filling the chamber. Blinded, Serap cried out.
She heard Syntara speak. ‘When all your grief for the dead is washed from you, what remains? Each of you, turn now from death and face life. Grieve not for the dead but for the living. For kin and stranger both. Grieve, until you are ready to come to me.
‘Come to me, and we will speak of justice.’
The light poured in, filling Serap’s flesh, her bones, setting all it touched to flame. She fell to her knees, and wept like a child.
Shuddering, Kagamandra Tulas leaned against the wall at the corridor’s end. Sharenas reached him, drew him round. He resisted, but her will would not be denied and a moment later she held him in her arms. ‘Damn that High Priestess,’ she hissed. ‘Shock weakened us and she pounced — no, I cannot guess at her ambitions. I know only to fear them. This much I have learned.’
‘Stop,’ he said. ‘There will be war now. Don’t you see that?’ He pushed her away with a hard shove that sent her stumbling. ‘I’ll not fight. This I swear! I’ll not fight!’
She stared at him from across the corridor. There were people in the main room and they had turned in alarm at this confrontation, but her eyes were for her friend and none other. ‘Kagamandra, please. The highborn will do nothing. Not yet. None of them — not even Anomander. They need to summon the Hust Legion. And the Wardens. They need to make an alliance with Sheccanto and Skelenal-’
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‘There is one,’ Sharenas said. ‘We gauge their deeds in life, for some. For others, we measure our distance from them, and the closer they are, the deeper we grieve. When you speak of a deluge of tears, I see not a blessed ocean, High Priestess, but a bitter sea. The laws that bind us are measured by the limits of our flesh, and the capacity of our souls. What you demand would empty us-’
‘Leaving what?’
‘The Abyss.’
‘A crowded soul, captain, is a place of shadows and gloom. Scour it clean, and nothing will remain to block the light. Hear me. I tell you, I am so afflicted. I am burned away inside. All that remains of the woman I once was is this shell you see before you, and see how even it is transformed by the Light burning in my soul.’ She stepped closer to Urusander. ‘Lord, do what needs to be done, to return Kurald Galain to peace. I will await you, and as proof of my power I will yield now this gift.’
Kagamandra Tulas rose suddenly, sending the chair toppling. Hands to his face, he staggered to the door, and then into the corridor. The sound of his feet as he fled was like that of a drunken man.
Sharenas snarled something Serap could not make out, and then rushed after her friend.
A moment later golden light spilled out from the High Priestess, filling the chamber. Blinded, Serap cried out.
She heard Syntara speak. ‘When all your grief for the dead is washed from you, what remains? Each of you, turn now from death and face life. Grieve not for the dead but for the living. For kin and stranger both. Grieve, until you are ready to come to me.
‘Come to me, and we will speak of justice.’
The light poured in, filling Serap’s flesh, her bones, setting all it touched to flame. She fell to her knees, and wept like a child.
Shuddering, Kagamandra Tulas leaned against the wall at the corridor’s end. Sharenas reached him, drew him round. He resisted, but her will would not be denied and a moment later she held him in her arms. ‘Damn that High Priestess,’ she hissed. ‘Shock weakened us and she pounced — no, I cannot guess at her ambitions. I know only to fear them. This much I have learned.’
‘Stop,’ he said. ‘There will be war now. Don’t you see that?’ He pushed her away with a hard shove that sent her stumbling. ‘I’ll not fight. This I swear! I’ll not fight!’
She stared at him from across the corridor. There were people in the main room and they had turned in alarm at this confrontation, but her eyes were for her friend and none other. ‘Kagamandra, please. The highborn will do nothing. Not yet. None of them — not even Anomander. They need to summon the Hust Legion. And the Wardens. They need to make an alliance with Sheccanto and Skelenal-’
His eyes widened. ‘What?’
‘Listen. A rival to Mother Dark was born in the room we just left.’
‘I would not listen. I stoppered my ears! I will not!’
Sharenas shook her head. ‘Not Syntara, friend. She was but a mahybe, set among us Tiste by the Azathanai. There is no hope of any of us gleaning the purpose of that, unless it was to see Kurald Galain destroyed. We have seen the beginning, but cannot know the end.’
‘There will be war!’ His shout bounced from the walls, echoed fierce into the Great Hall.
‘I am not blind, Kagamandra. But nor am I helpless, and neither are you!’
‘I will not fight!’
The door to the Campaign Room slammed open further up the corridor and both turned. A moment later, Urusander appeared.
His skin was white as alabaster, his once-grey hair shot through with threads of gold.
‘Here then,’ Sharenas said in a low voice, ‘comes her rival.’
Urusander strode past her and stood before Kagamandra Tulas, who stared at Urusander as if he had come face to face with a ghost, a singular apparition bearing with it a thousand losses exhumed, shaken clean, proffered like trophies. His back pushed harder against the wall when Urusander raised a hand, as if to touch him. A moment later the hand fell back.
‘Old friend,’ said Urusander. ‘I beg you, ride to them. Tell them that I was not behind this. Tell them that I will hunt down these murderers. Tell them the Legion is at their disposal.’
But Kagamandra shook his head. ‘I will not, sir. I go to find my betrothed. I will take her from Kurald Galain. As far away as we can ride. If need be, I will bind her with ropes, a gag about her mouth, a sack for a hood. Sir, leave me alone.’
There were tears on Urusander’s cheeks. He stepped back, his gaze dropping. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered.
‘I will go,’ said Sharenas.
