“Sure.” Doing my dark-adaption trick, I scanned the sightlines of ghostly windows in buildings around the little plaza, checking for ones that overlooked both my bench and the Cathedral steps. There were only two: one on the face of a third-floor gable, and the other a picture window at the front of a one-story shop. “And it tickles the fuck out of you to sit up there in your little garret room and watch me shiver.”
Caine, please. You insult me. Nor am I in the bootmaker’s. Unlike you, I’m not that easy to locate.
“Whatever.” It wasn’t worth pushing. “All right, I’m listening.”
You were the one who wanted to see me.
“That’d be nice.”
Oh, ha. You see? I pretend to appreciate your wit. You pretend not to hate me. Can we do business now? This must be important-or, I imagine, poor dim Tyrkilld would be dead already.
She’d been smack on about me changing my mind; right then I’d have cheerfully slapped the points off her ears for being a condescending elvish cunt. There’s only so much talking-down-to I can take, and I’ve had about five lives’ worth from Kierendal.
“I guess he told you I took a job for the Champion.”
I had hoped Tyrkilld’s welcome might leave you disinclined to help the Khryllians. You were supposed to come into this on our side.
“Whose side is that?”
Ours. The good guys. You know: truth, justice and the Ankhanan Way.
I made a face. “Since when do truth and justice have anything to do with the Ankhanan Way?”
She laughed at me: that elfin titter that sounds like somebody dropped a handful of glass bells off a cliff. Since Assumption Day, of course. You arranged it so yourself, didn’t you?
“Sure, funny. Now let’s talk about side of what, and why you dragged Orbek into it.”
Dragged? Me?
“Orbek went to Ankhana to visit friends-friends who are half-made Faces, just like he used to be. Three months later he’s shooting Knights of Khryl and playing Black Knife kwatcharr.”
Not playing, Caine. I could hear a shrug in her Whisper. A clever little feral like you shouldn’t have much difficulty figuring it out.
“I just want to hear you say it.”
Deliann doesn’t want you involved. Our Sainted Emperor feels you’ve done enough.
“He’s sentimental that way.”
Not sentimental, Caine. Squeamish. Our Sainted Emperor knows what happens when you get busy. Three years later we’re still rebuilding Ankhana.
“I’ve heard. So Orbek was just bait after all. Because you knew I’d come.”
I’m not squeamish.
“I remember. Tyrkilld will too.”
Oh?
“Must have come as a bit of a surprise that he lived long enough to report in this afternoon.”
It’s not the first time you’ve disappointed me.
“You sure he’s outlived his usefulness? He’s smarter than he plays, and he’s got a good heart.”
A fatal virtue, in this place and these times.
A tilt of my head: not quite ready to agree. “You were willing enough to use his heart when it suited you.”
So are you, I think.
“I quit playing good guy a long time ago.”
Her Whisper chipped sharp as an obsidian scalpel. Have you seen how you feral scum treat Folk here? They’re slavers, Caine.
“Some of them.”
No one ordered you here. No one even asked you. Especially not me. Let Deliann flash on me all year long. This is your choice. Nobody else’s.
“That’s what people keep telling me.”
How much do you know about what’s really going on?
“It’s what you know that worries me. What you don’t.”
This is your war I’m fighting, Caine. Don’t you understand that yet? Do you know what this place is?
“Yeah.”
We are the First Folk, Caine. I stood in this place when Panchasell Mithondionne carved it from the gutrock of this escarpment more than a thousand years ago. Do you know what your Artans have here? This is not just a dil-not just a gate to your hellworld-
“I told you: I know.”
Then you know why I need you here, Caine. This is the task I have been given by our Emperor. By your Emperor. To defend the dil T’llan against your people-
“Yeah, I get it.”
They’re your enemies too.
“Uh-huh. I say again: So? What’s your offer?”
Silence.
Hush of rain and the beat of my heart.
“Come on, Kier. What do you want me to do about it?”
Without hesitation: Kill the Champion. Kill Angvasse Khlaylock.
I laughed at her. It wasn’t easy; she’s not exactly funny. But I could fake it.
I can make it worth your while.
“No, you can’t.”
You don’t think you can do it?
“For starters.”
And the rest?
“I don’t want to.”
Silence.
She said, Really.
“Really.”
Silence.
Eventually: Why not?
“Reasons are for peasants.”
Silence.
I’d settle for Purthin.
“Oh, right. He knows me-”
So did Ma’elKoth.
My turn to fall silent. Eventually: “I thought you said you were fighting my war. Sounds like you want me to fight yours.”
BlackStone is under Khryllian protection. Before I can touch the Artans, we have to-
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Keep it up, Kier.”
A hush like a breath of wind: a sigh, maybe. What does the Champion want you to do?
“Is that your business?”
If I say it is.
“Leave the Artans to me. When I’m done, they won’t be a problem.”
How does that get me what I want?
“Didn’t say it would.” I let air leak out between my teeth. “Does Deliann know you don’t give a shit about this supposed mission of yours?”
Our Sainted Emperor and I have an understanding.
“He wants the dil T’llan protected. You want ogrilloi free in the Boedecken.”
Like I said.
“Because that’s what the Black Knives were in the first place. Part of Panchasell’s defense of the dil T’llan. I mean, ogrilloi were your dogs, right? Hunting dogs. Guard dogs. Isn’t that what you bred them for?”
We did better with them than we did with you.
“You are sentimental.”
There is no way in which ogrilloi are not superior to humanity. Stronger. Faster. More loyal, more faithful. More honest and more courageous. True always to their own nature-
“Yeah, so are horses. Except horses don’t eat people.”
Nor do ogrilloi. Not anymore.
“Tell that to the Smoke Hunt.”
If only I had the chance.
My teeth found that raw spot on the inside of my lip. “The Smoke Hunt isn’t yours?”
Mine? How would you think it mine? Random slaughter is your style.
I couldn’t argue. If shit were gonna be simple, God would’ve called somebody else.
The Smoke Hunt is the worst thing that has happened to our operation. Pointless, useless, wasteful bloodshed. They accomplish only the spread of terror; they keep the Khryllians on the highest alert, and ensure the constant vigilance and militarization of the entire population. They are the enemy of the ogrilloi as much as they are of the Khryllians-the Smoke Hunt justifies the oppression of Hell. Not that they wouldn’t have their uses, if properly directed-