‘What am I to do?’ Trull asked, suddenly hesitating and looking to where stood the squat woman wearing the skin of a panther. She and the Imass who had carried the Finnest were both now crouched at the form of a third Imass, a warrior. The woman was cradling the dead or unconscious warrior’s head. ‘Onrack… my friend…’
‘Kin first,’ Seren Pedac said. Then she raised her voice and called out to the Imass. ‘Does the fallen one live?’
‘Yes,’ the warrior replied. ‘My father lives.’
A sob broke from Trull Sengar and he sagged against her. Seren staggered beneath his weight for a moment, then straightened. ‘Come, my love.’
This caught Trull’s attention as, perhaps, nothing else would. He searched her face, her eyes.
‘We must return to my house,’ she said, even as dread clawed at her heart-another, after all 1 have done to those who came before him. Errant forgive me. Another. ‘I carry a sword,’ she added. ‘And would bury it before the threshold.’ And shall 1 then kneel there, dirt on my hands, and cover my eyes? Shall I cry out in grief for what is to come? For all that I will bring to you, Trull Sengar? My burdens-
‘I have dreamed you would say that, Seren Pedac’
She closed her eyes for a long moment, and then nodded.
They resumed their journey, and when they reached Fear Sengar, she let Trull settle down onto the ground, and he set the spear down, then reached out to touch his brother’s ashen, lifeless face.
From nearby, Udinaas-his face streaked in tears-spoke in a harsh, grating voice. ‘I greet you, Trull Sengar. And I must tell you… your brother, Fear… he died as a hero would.’
Trull lifted his head, stared across at the Letherii. ‘Udinaas. You are wrong. My brother sought… betrayal.’
‘No. He saw you, Trull, and he knew the mind of Silchas Ruin. Knew you could never stand against the White Crow. Do you understand me? He saw you.’
‘Is that helpful?’ Seren Pedac snapped.
Udinaas bared bloodstained teeth. ‘With the only alternative betrayal, Acquitor, then yes. Trull, I am… sorry. And yet… Fear-1 am proud of him. Proud to have known him.’
And she saw her beloved nod, then manage a sorrow-filled smile at the ex-slave. ‘Thank you, Udinaas. Your journey-all of you-your journey, it must have been long. Difficult.’ He glanced to her, then back to Udinaas. ‘For remaining at my brother’s side, I thank you both.’, Oh, Trull, may you never know the truth.
Onrack the Broken opened his eyes to an ancient dream, and its conjuration twisted like a knife in his soul. Not oblivion, then. Such peace is denied me. Instead, my crimes return. To haunt.
And yet… Ulshun Pral-
An ancient dream, yes, and hovering just beyond, a far younger dream-one he had not even known to exist. The Ritual of Tellann had stolen from so many men of the Imass this reaching into the future, this creation of sons, daughters, this rooting of life into the soil that lived on.
Yes, that had indeed been a dream-
Kilava Onass suddenly frowned. ‘You stare, Onrack, with all the intelligence of a bhederin. Have you lost your wits?’
Dreams did not berate, did they?
‘Ah,’ she then said, nodding, ‘now I see you of old-1 see the panic that ever fills a man’s eyes, when all he longed for is suddenly within reach. But know this, I too have longed, and I too now feel… panic. To love in absence is to float on ever still waters. No sudden currents. No treacherous tides. No possibility of drowning. You and I, Onrack, have floated so for a very long time.’
He stared up at her-yes, he was lying on hard stone. In the cavern of the gates.
Then Kilava smiled, revealing those deadly canines. ‘But I fared better, I think. For you gave me a gift, from that one night. You gave me Ulshun Pral. And when I found this… this illusion, I found for our son a home, a haven.’
‘This realm… dies,’ Onrack said. ‘Are we all illusions now?’
Kilava shook her head, the luxuriant black hair shimmering. ‘Gothos gave to our son the Finnest. As for the rest, well, your son has explained it to me. The white-skinned Tiste Andii, Silchas Ruin, delivered the seed of an Azath, a seed in the guise of a child. To accept the Finnest, to use its power to grow. Onrack, soon these gates will be sealed, each and all drawn into the House, into a squat, clumsy tower. And this realm-with an Azath House here, this realm no longer wanders, no longer fades. It is rooted, and so it will remain.’
Behind her, Ulshun Pral said, ‘Gothos said Silchas Ruin would one day come for the Finnest. Gothos thought that was… funny. Jaghut,’ he then said, ‘are strange.’
Kilava Onass added, ‘To win his freedom, Silchas Ruin bargained with an Azath, an Azath that was dying. And now he has done what was asked of him. And the Azath is reborn.’
‘Then… we need not have fought.’
Kilava scowled. ‘Never trust a Tiste Andii.’ Her luminous eyes flickered away briefly. ‘It seems there were other… issues.’
But Onrack was not ready to think of those. He continued staring up at Kilava Onass. ‘You, then, that night in darkness.’
Her scowl deepened. ‘Were you always this thick? I cannot remember-by the spirits, my panic worsens. Of course it was me. You bound me to stone, with your eyes and hand. With, Onrack, your love. Yours was a forbidden desire and it wounded so many. But not me. I knew only that I must give answer. I must let my heart speak.’ She laid a hand on his chest. ‘As yours now does. You are flesh and blood, Onrack. The Ritual has relinquished your soul. Tell me, what do you seek?’
He held his eyes on hers. ‘I have found it,’ he said.
Every bone in his body ached as he forced himself to his feet. At once his gaze was drawn to where he had last seen Trull Sengar; and a growing dread was swept from his mind upon seeing his friend.
Trull Sengar, you are as hard to kill as I am.
A moment later, he saw the tears on his friend’s face, and’ it seemed there would be, grief this day, after all.
At the mouth of a fissure not far away, in a small clearing, Rud Elalle stood in the midst of carnage. Where one of his mother’s sisters had died. Where three Imass had died.
And somewhere beyond, he knew in his heart, he would find the body of his mother.
He stood on blood-soaked ground, and wondered what it was that had just died within his own soul.
Some time later, much later, he would find the word to describe it.
Innocence.
Quick Ben still hobbled like an old man, amusing Hedge no end. ‘There you are,’ he said as they made their way towards the cave and its tunnel leading to the Gates of Starvald Demelain, ‘exactly how you’ll look twenty years from now. Creepy and gamey. Pushing wobbly teeth with a purple tongue and muttering rhymes under your breath-
‘Keep talking, sapper, and you’ll know all about loose teeth. In fact, I’m surprised a few weren’t knocked right out when that bone hit you. Gods below, that is probably the funniest thing I have ever seen.’
Hedge reached and gingerly touched the huge lump on his forehead. ‘So, we did our task today. How do you think the others fared?’
‘We’ll soon find out,’ the wizard replied. ‘One thing, though.’
‘What?’
‘There is now an Azath House growing in this damned realm.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Oh, lots of things. First, this place is now real. And it will live on. These Imass will live on.’
Hedge grunted. ‘Rud Elalle will be pleased. Onrack, too, I imagine.’
‘Aye. And here’s another thing, only I don’t think it’ll please anyone. In that Azath House there will be a tower, and in that tower, all the gates.’
‘So?’
Quick Ben sighed. ‘You damned idiot. The Gates of Starvald Demelain.’
‘And?*
‘Just this. Shadowthrone, and Cotillion. Who like using the Azath whenever it suits them. Now they’ve got a way in. Not just to this realm, either.’
‘Into Starvald Demelain? Gods below, Quick! Is that why we just did all that? Is that what brought you here?’