And not even Kilmandaros can do that. Not with this one. At least, not now, while the gate is still sealed. She needs to die, but she must first be freed.
Against the madness of such contradictions, I wagered my very life. I walked into the heart of Chaos to challenge the absurdity of existence. And for that, I was torn in two.
My modest achievement.
‘The Forkrul Assail,’ he muttered, glancing back at Errastas. ‘They cannot be permitted to actually succeed in what they seek to do. You must know that. The Assail do not kneel before gods, not even Elder Ones.’
‘Their arrogance is boundless,’ the Errant said, baring his teeth. ‘We will exploit that, dear Knuckles. Mayhap they will slit the throats of the gods. But we are another matter.’
‘We will need K’rul before this ends, I think.’
‘Of us all, he best understands expedience,’ Errastas agreed.
Expedience? ‘And Mael. And Olar—’
‘That hag has her own plans, but she will fail.’
‘With a nudge?’
‘It won’t be hard,’ the Errant replied. ‘A nudge? More like a tap, the gentlest of prods.’
‘Don’t be premature in that. She’ll serve well as a distraction, for as long as possible.’
He was touching his socket again. Seeking benediction? Unlikely.
‘Azath,’ said Sechul Lath. ‘That was unexpected. How deep is your wound, Errastas?’
‘More indignation than blood,’ the Errant answered, grimacing. ‘I was sorely used. Someone will pay for that.’
‘Lifestealer?’
‘Ah, Knuckles, do you think me a fool? Challenge that one? No. Besides, there were children involved. Human children.’
‘Easier targets, then.’
Errastas must have caught something in Sechul’s tone, for his face darkened. ‘Don’t you dare think them innocent!’
‘I don’t,’ Sechul replied, thinking of his own unholy spawn. ‘But it was Feather Witch who swallowed your eye, was it not? And you say that you killed her, with your own hands. How then—’
‘Icarium’s stupid gambit in Letheras. It’s why I never found her soul. No, she carried my eye straight to him, the rotting bitch. And now he’s spat out fledgling warrens, and made of my eye a Finnest for an Azath. He remains the single force of true unpredictability in this scheme.’
‘Calm assures us otherwise.’
‘I don’t trust her.’
Finally, friend, you begin to think clearly again. ‘Just so,’ he said.
Errastas glanced over at Kilmandaros. ‘Can we not feed her or something? Hasten this healing?’
‘No. The wards Rake and the others set were profound. Tearing them down damaged her deeply, in ways no sorcerous healing can reach. Leave her in peace.’
Errastas hissed.
‘Besides,’ Sechul Lath continued, ‘they’re not all in place yet. You know that.’
‘I have waited so long for this. I want us to be ready when the time comes.’
‘And so we shall, Errastas.’
The Errant’s single eye fixed on Sechul Lath. ‘Calm is not the only one I do not trust.’
‘There will be ashes and death, but survivors will emerge. They always do. They will understand the necessity of blood. We shall be unchallenged, Errastas.’
‘Yet you sought to betray me. You and Kilmandaros.’
‘Betray? No.’ We dismissed you.
‘That is how I see it. How can I not?’
‘What you fail to understand, old friend,’ said Sechul Lath, ‘is that I don’t care about being unchallenged. I don’t care about a new world rising from the wreckage of this one. I am happy enough to wander the ruins. To mock those mortals who would try again.’ He gestured. ‘Leave the world to its wild ignorance – at least life was simple then. I turned my back on worshippers because I was done with them. Disgusted with them. I don’t want what we had, Errastas.’
‘But I do, Setch.’
‘And you are welcome to it.’
‘What of your children?’
‘What of them?’
‘Where do you see Oponn in the world to come?’
‘I don’t see them anywhere,’ Sechul Lath said.
Errastas drew a sharp breath. ‘You will kill them?’
‘What I made I can unmake.’
‘Your words please me, Knuckles. Indeed, I am relieved.’
It wasn’t much of a life, my children, was it? I doubt you will object overmuch. Prod and pull, yes, but in the end – after thousands and thousands of years of that pathetic game – what is achieved? Learned? By anyone?
Chance is a miserable bitch, a hard bastard. It shows a smile, but it is a wolf’s smile. What is learned? Only that every ambition must kneel to that which cannot be anticipated. And you can duck and dodge for only so long. It’ll take you down in the end.
A man slips the noose. A civilization steps from the path of its own hubris. Once. Twice. Thrice even. But what of the twentieth time? The fiftieth? Triumph falters. It always does. There was never a balance.
After all, common sense will tell you, it’s far easier to push than it is to pull.
‘How does Kilmandaros feel,’ Errastas asked, ‘about killing her own children?’
Sechul Lath glanced over at his mother, and then back at his companion. ‘Don’t you understand anything, Errastas? She doesn’t feel anything.’
After a moment, the lone eye shied away.
Now I think you understand.
What does the child want, that you did not have first? What do you own that the child does not want? Badalle had awoken this morning with these questions echoing in her head. The voice was a woman’s, and then a man’s. Both delivered in the same abject tones of despair.
She sat in the sun’s light as it bled in from the window, banishing the chill in her bones as would a lizard or a serpent, and struggled to understand the night’s visions, the dark, disturbing voices of strangers saying such terrible things.
It is what is passed on, I suppose. I think I see that.
She glanced over to where Saddic sat on the floor, his collection of useless objects arrayed around him, a lost look on his oddly wrinkled face. Like an old man with his life’s treasure. Only he’s forgotten how to count.
But what they owned, what they had, was not necessarily a good thing, a thing of virtue. Sometimes, what they had was poison, and the child’s hunger knew no different. How could it? And so the crimes passed on, from one generation to the next. Until they destroy us. Yes, I see that now. My dreams are wise, wiser than me. My dreams sing the songs of the Quitters, clever in argument, subtle in persuasion.
My dreams are warning me.
She turned away from the sun’s light and faced the chamber. ‘Is everyone ready?’
Saddic looked up guiltily, and then nodded.
Badalle twisted back and leaned out on the window ledge, craning round in order to see the western end of the plaza. Rutt was there, with Held in his arms. Others waited in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, as if figures on friezes had stepped out from their stone worlds.
It was just as well. They’d eaten all the fruit on the city’s trees.
And the crystal was stealing our souls.
‘Then it is time. Leave those things behind, Saddic.’
Instead, he began gathering them up.
A flash of anger hissed through Badalle, followed by fear. She didn’t understand either. Sighing, she dropped down from the ledge. ‘There will be Shards. Diamonds, Rubies and Opals. We will begin dying again.’