‘You have set your expectation against the compassion you claim to possess, and now the child bleeds anew.’
‘Very well, I will seek to withhold judgement on Draconus.’
‘Then, I fear, you will stand alone in the war to come.’
‘The thought,’ the First Son said, ‘of a highborn victory tastes as sour as does the thought of Urusander’s ascension. I am of a mind to see them both humbled.’
‘Ascension is a curious word in this context.’
‘Why?’
‘Mother Dark … Father Light. The titles are not empty, and if you think the powers behind them are but illusions, then you are a fool.’
Wreneck heard a gasp, but it was a moment before he realized that it had come from him. He was back, in a place of warmth. He had crossed the icy river all unknowing. He opened his eyes.
A tall warrior stood above him, studying him with calm eyes. Off to one side, seated on a scorched stump, was a huge figure wearing silver fur upon his broad shoulders, with something bestial in his broad, flat face that made Wreneck shiver.
‘The chill remains deep in your bones,’ the First Son said to Wreneck. ‘But you have returned to us, and that is well.’
Wreneck glared across at Caladan Brood. ‘First Son, why do you not kill him?’ he asked.
‘For what reason would I do that, even if I could?’ Lord Anomander asked.
‘He called you a fool.’
The First Son smiled. ‘He but reminds me of the risk in careless words. Well now, we found you in a grave, yet here you are, resurrected. But this winter has been hard on you – when did you last eat?’
Unable to recall, Wreneck said nothing.
‘I will prepare some broth,’ said Caladan Brood, reaching across to his pack. ‘If you will make this child your conscience, best he know the bliss of a full stomach.’
The First Son grunted. ‘My conscience, Caladan? He just urged vengeance against you.’
‘After riding the back of our conversation, yes.’
‘I doubt he understood much of it.’
The Azathanai shrugged as he withdrew items from the pack.
‘Why,’ Anomander persisted, ‘would I make this foundling my conscience?’
‘Perhaps only to awaken it within you, First Son, given his impulsive bloodlust.’
Lord Anomander looked back down at Wreneck. ‘Are you a Denier orphan, then?’ he asked.
Wreneck shook his head. ‘I was a stabler for House Drukorlat. But she was murdered and everything was burned down. They tried to kill me and Jinia, too, but we lived, only she’s hurt inside. I remember their names. I am going to kill them. The ones who did that to Jinia. I have a spear …’
‘Yes,’ the First Son said, his expression grave, ‘we found that. The shaft seems sound, lovingly tended, I would judge. But it could do with a better-weighted blade. You have their names, you say. What else do you recall of these murderers?’
‘Legion soldiers, sir. They were drunk, but they took orders and things. There was a sergeant. They thought I was dead, but I wasn’t. They were going to burn us all in the house, but I got me and Jinia out.’
‘Lady Nerys is dead, then.’
Wreneck nodded. ‘But Orfantal had already been sent away, and Sandalath, too. There was just the three of us left, but I wasn’t let in the house, and the barn burned down and she didn’t really want me any more anyway.’
Lord Anomander continued studying him. ‘And Sandalath … if I recall, she is now a hostage in Dracons Keep.’
Wreneck couldn’t remember if that was true, but he nodded. ‘And that’s where you’re taking me, isn’t it?’
‘A quiet listener, this one,’ said Caladan as he set a battered pot upon the embers.
‘Good men are,’ said Wreneck. ‘It’s only little boys who are too loud, getting whipped for it as is proper.’
Neither the First Son nor the Azathanai replied to this.
After a time, Wreneck sat up, and Caladan Brood brought to him a bowl of broth. Wreneck held it in both hands and felt how the heat seeped through to his fingers. The sensation was painful, but he welcomed it nonetheless.
Then Lord Anomander spoke. ‘It may comfort you to know that Orfantal is safe, in the Citadel.’
Wreneck glanced over, and then frowned down at the bowl and its steaming broth. ‘She said I sullied him. We had to stop being friends.’
‘Sandalath?’
‘No. Lady Nerys.’
‘Who was free with her cane.’
‘Me and Jinia had to know our place.’
‘Would you rather,’ Lord Anomander said, ‘that I did not deliver you to Dracons Keep? I recall Sandalath, from her time in the Citadel. She was clever, and seemed kindly enough, but time will change people.’
‘She liked it that Orfantal had someone to play with, but it was wrong. Lady Nerys explained it.’ Wreneck sipped at the broth. He had never tasted anything better. ‘I can’t stay long at Dracons Keep, even if Sandalath wants me there. I have bad men to kill.’
‘This,’ said Caladan Brood, ‘proves a most cruel conscience.’
‘Go slowly with that broth,’ Lord Anomander said. ‘Tell me your name.’
‘Wreneck.’
‘Have you brothers or sisters?’
‘No.’
‘Your parents?’
‘Just my ma. The man who made me with her was with the army. He also made horseshoes and other stuff, but he died to a horse-kick. I don’t remember him, but Ma says I’m going to be big, like he was. She sees it in my bones.’
‘You’ll not return to her?’
‘Not until I kill the ones who hurt Jinia. Then I’ll come back. I’ll find Jinia in the village and we’ll get married. She says she can’t have children, not any more, after what they did, but that doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t matter if Ma doesn’t like her either, because of how she’s been used and all. I’ll marry Jinia, and protect her for ever.’
Lord Anomander was no longer looking down at Wreneck. He was instead looking across at Caladan Brood. He said, ‘And so I now raise my standard, Azathanai, to a deserved future, and a conscience scrubbed clean. If not in the name of love, then what cause suffices?’
‘Draconus would stand with you, First Son, beneath such a standard. And thus the nobles are lost.’
Lord Anomander turned away, studied the barren trees with their scorched trunks that surrounded the glade. ‘Are we then past the age of shame, Caladan? No sting should I ridicule my fellow highborn?’
‘Its power has diminished. Shame, my friend, is but a ghost now, haunting every city, every town and village. It has less substance than woodsmoke, and but rubs the throat with little more than an itch.’
‘I shall make it a wildfire.’
‘In such a conflagration, First Son, guard your standard well.’
‘Wreneck.’
‘Milord?’
‘When your time comes … for vengeance. Find me.’
‘I don’t need any help. They stuck a sword in me and I didn’t die. They can try it again and I still won’t die. My promise keeps me alive. When you become a man, you learn to do what you say you will do. That’s what makes you a man.’
‘Alas, there are far fewer men in the world than you might think, Wreneck.’
‘But I’m one.’
‘I believe you,’ Lord Anomander replied. ‘But understand my offer before you reject it. When you find those rapists and murderers, they will be in a cohort, in Urusander’s Legion. There may well be a thousand soldiers between you and them. I will clear your path, Wreneck.’
Wreneck stared at the First Son. ‘But, milord, I am going to do it at night, when they’re sleeping.’
Caladan Brood grunted a laugh, and then spat into the fire. ‘It is a clever man who thinks hard on how to achieve his promise.’
‘I am loath to risk you, Wreneck. Find me in any case, and we can discuss the necessary tactics.’
‘You have no time for me, milord.’
‘You are a citizen of Kurald Galain. Of course I have time for you.’
Wreneck didn’t understand that; he was not sure what the word ‘citizen’ meant. The bowl was empty. He set it down and pulled the furs closer about him again.