Anomander then tilted his head, as if to counter his own tension or affront. ‘High Mason,’ he said, ‘you speak of my love for Andarist, and my desire for the well-being of the new life awaiting him, as if they were in question. You speak, too, of this gift as if it embodies a threat, or indeed a curse.’
‘Such potential exists in every gift, and in its giving, First Son.’
‘The bargain made between myself and you,’ Anomander said, ‘involved the payment of coin for your services-’
‘Not precisely,’ the Azathanai replied. ‘You have paid for the protection and transport of this hearthstone, and its extraction from the Jhelarkan quarry. Your coin has purchased wagons, draught animals, and the necessary escort across the Bareth Solitude. For my talents, I take no coin.’
Anomander was frowning. ‘Forgive me, High Mason, but I surely paid for much more than what you have described.’
‘The Jhelarkan quarries are contested, Lord. Lives were lost in the procurement of this stone. Aggrieved families required compensation.’
‘This… distresses me,’ Anomander replied, and now Sparo could see the warrior’s taut fury.
‘The stone selected is unequalled in its capacity to contain and, indeed, sustain the sorcery I invest in it. If you wished a lesser gift, then you should not have made an approach to me. There are many highly skilled masons among the Azathanai, any one of whom could have served you well in the making of this gift. Yet you sought the finest worker of stone, to reflect the measure of your fealty to your brother and his pending union.’ The High Mason shrugged. ‘I have done as you requested. This hearthstone is without equal in the realm of the Tiste.’
‘And now you stand before us,’ said Anomander, ‘demanding my blood-vow.’
‘I do not,’ the High Mason replied, crossing his thickly muscled arms. ‘The stone demands. The words carved upon its face demand. The honour you wish to do to your brother demands.’
Andarist made to speak, dismay heavy on his features, but a quick shake of his brother’s head stilled him. Anomander said, ‘I have only your claim that the glyphs you have carved upon it — for the understanding of Andarist and Enesdia alone — do indeed avow love, fidelity and fecundity. And yet you ask of me, here and now, to give by blood and vow my binding to those secret words. Words that shall remain for ever unknown to me.’
‘I do,’ the High Mason replied. ‘On this, you have nothing but your faith. In my integrity, and, of course, in your own.’
Another moment, when it seemed nothing in the world could move, could break the stillness, and then Anomander drew a dagger from his belt and slid the edge across the palm of his left hand. Blood trickled down, dripped on to the ground. ‘Upon the hearthstone?’ he asked.
But the High Mason shook his head. ‘Unnecessary, First Son of Mother Dark.’
The hearthstone slowly settled into its bed of earth.
Sparo drew a sudden breath, almost sagged as the world righted itself once more. Looking at his lord, he saw Andarist, pale and shaken, possibly even frightened.
Neither brother had expected a moment so fraught, so heady with portent. Something had left them both, like a child in flight, and Anomander’s eyes were grave and older than they had been, as they held, steady as stone itself, upon the face of the Azathanai High Mason. ‘Then it is done?’
‘It is done,’ the Azathanai replied.
Anomander’s voice sharpened, ‘Then I must voice this unexpected concern, for I have placed my faith in the integrity of an Azathanai whom I know solely by reputation — his talent in the shaping of stone, and the power he is said to possess. In the matter of faith, Lord, you have gone too far.’
The Azathanai’s eyes thinned, and he slowly straightened. ‘What do you now ask of me, First Son?’
‘Binding of blood and vow,’ Anomander replied. ‘Be worthy of my faith. This and this alone.’
‘My blood you already have,’ the Azathanai replied, gesturing towards the hearthstone. ‘As for my vow… what you ask of me is without precedent. Tiste affairs are no concern of mine, nor am I about to avow allegiance to a noble of Wise Kharkanas, when it seems that such an avowal might well engulf me in bloodshed.’
‘There is peace in the Tiste realm,’ Anomander answered, ‘and so it shall remain.’ After a moment, when it was clear that the Azathanai would not relent, he added, ‘My faith in you shall not command your allegiance, High Mason. In your vow there shall be no demand for bloodshed in my name.’
Andarist turned to his brother. ‘Anomander, please. This is not necessary-’
‘This High Mason has won from the First Son of Mother Dark a blood-vow, brother. Does he imagine that a thing of little value? If there is no coin in this exchange, then is it not my right to demand the same of him in return?’
‘He is Azathanai-’
‘Are the Azathanai not bound by honour?’
‘Anomander, it’s not that. As you have said, binding by blood pulls both ways. As it now stands, all you have bound yourself to is this hearthstone. Your vow is to the upholding of your brother and the woman he loves, and the union thereof. If such was not your sentiment from the very first, then as the High Mason has said, best we not hear it now?’
Anomander stepped back as if rocked by a blow. He lifted his bloodied hand.
‘I do not doubt you,’ Andarist insisted. ‘Rather, I implore you to reconsider your demand on this Azathanai. We know nothing of him, beyond his reputation — yet that reputation is unsullied by questions regarding his integrity.’
‘Just so,’ replied Anomander. ‘And yet he hesitates.’
The High Mason’s breath hissed sharply. ‘First Son of Darkness, hear my words. Should you wrest this vow from me, I will hold you to it, and its truth shall be timeless for as long as both of us shall live. And you may have cause to regret it yet.’
Andarist stepped closer to his brother, eyes imploring. ‘Anomander — can’t you see? There is more to what you ask of him than either of us can comprehend!’
‘I will have his vow,’ Anomander said, eyes fixed on those of the High Mason.
‘To what end?’ Andarist demanded.
‘High Mason,’ Anomander said, ‘tell us of those ramifications which we do not as yet comprehend.’
‘I cannot. As I said, First Son, there is no precedent for this. Shall I be bound to your summons? Perhaps. Just as you may in turn be bound to mine. Shall we each know the other’s mind? Shall all secrets vanish between us? Shall we for ever stand in opposition to one another, or shall we stand as one? Too much is unknown. Consider carefully then, for it seems you speak from wounded pride. I am not a creature who weighs value in coin, and in wealth I ever measure all that cannot be grasped.’
Anomander was silent.
The Azathanai then held up a hand, and Sparo was shocked to see blood streaming down from a deep gash in the palm. ‘Then it is done.’
As he turned away, Anomander called out to him, ‘A moment, please. You are known by title alone. I will have your name.’
The huge man half swung round, studied Anomander for a long moment, and then said, ‘I am named Caladan Brood.’
‘It is well,’ said Anomander, nodding. ‘If we are to be allies…’
‘That,’ replied the High Mason, ‘still remains to be seen.’
‘No blood shed in my name or cause-’
Caladan Brood then bared teeth, and those teeth were sharp and long as those of a wolf. ‘That, too, Lord, remains to be seen.’
THREE
Not too many years ago, fewer indeed than she cared to think about, Korya Delath had lived in another age. The sun had been brighter, hotter, and when she had carried her dolls, a dozen or more, up the narrow, treacherous stone steps to the Aerie’s platform, she had delivered them into that harsh light with breathless excitement. For this was their world, cut clean with the low walls enclosing the platform casting the barest of shadows, and the heat rising from the stone was lifted up by the summer wind as if giving voice to a promise.