Withal scratched his head. See what happens when you marry an older woman? And face it, it doesn’t take a Tiste Andii to have about a hundred thousand years of history behind her. ‘All right,’ he said slowly, ‘what now, then?’
She gestured after the refugee she’d sent scampering. ‘He doesn’t know if Nimander and the others were with the Shake-there were thousands-the only time he saw Yan Tovis was at the landing, and she was three thousand paces away. But, then, who else could have managed to open the gate? And then keep it open to admit ten thousand people? Only Andii blood can open the Road, and only royal Andii blood could keep it open! By the Abyss, they must have bled one of their own dry!’
‘This road, Sand, where does it lead?’
‘Nowhere. Oh, I should never have left Nimander and his kin! The Shake not only listened to Blind Gallan, they then went and believed him!’ She stepped closer and raised a hand, as if to strike him.
Withal backed up a step.
‘Oh, gods, just get the horses, Withal.’
As he set off, he glanced-with odd longing-after the still-running refugee.
A short time later they sat mounted, pack-horses behind them, while Sandalath, motionless, seemed to study something in front of them that only she could see. The waves thrashed to their left, the burnt forest stank on their right. The Nachts fought over a thick, massive length of driftwood that probably weighed more than all three put together. That’d make a good club… for a damned Toblakai. Sink brace plugs, wrap the knobby end in hammered iron. Stud with beaten bronze rivets and maybe a spike or three. Draw wire down the length of the shaft, and then sink a deep and heavy counterweight butt-
‘It’s healing, but the skin is thin.’ She suddenly had a knife in her hand. ‘I can get us through, I think.’
‘Do you have royal blood then?’
‘Snap shut that trap or I’ll do it for you. I told you, it’s a huge wound-barely mended. In fact, it seems weaker on the other side, which isn’t good, isn’t right, in fact. Did they stay on the Road? They must have known that much at least. Withal, listen well. Ready a weapon-’
‘A weapon? What kind of weapon?’
‘Wrong choice. Find another one.’
‘What?’
‘Stupidity won’t work. Try that mace on your belt.’
‘That’s a smith’s hammer-’
‘And you’re a smith, so presumably you know how to use it.’
‘So long as my victim lays his head on an anvil, aye.’
‘Can’t you fight at all? What kind of husband are you? You Meckros-always fighting off pirates and such, or so you always said-’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Unless they were just big fat lies, trying to impress your new woman.’
‘I haven’t used a weapon in decades-I just make the damned things! And why do I need to anyway? If you wanted a bodyguard you should have said so in the first place, and I could have hired on to the first ship out of Lether Harbour!’
‘Abandon me, you mean! I knew it!’
He reached up to tear at his hair and then recalled that he didn’t have enough of it. Gods, life can be damned frustrating, can’t it just? ‘Fine.’ He tugged loose the hammer. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Now, remember, I died the first time because I don’t know anything about fighting, and I don’t want to die a second time-’
‘What’s all this talk about fighting and dying? It’s just a gate, isn’t it? What in Hood’s name is on the other side?’
‘I don’t know, you idiot! Just be ready!’
‘ For what? ’
‘For anything!’
Withal slipped his left foot out of its stirrup and swung down to the littered sand.
Sandalath stared. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to piss, and maybe whatever else I can manage. If we’re going to end up in a hoary mess, I don’t want fouled breeches, not stuck in a saddle, not riding with a horde of shrieking demons on my tail. Besides, I probably only have a few moments of living left to me. When I go I plan on doing it clean.’
‘Just blood and guts.’
‘Right.’
‘That’s pathetic. As if you’ll care.’
He went off to find somewhere private.
‘Don’t take too long!’ she shouted after him.
There was a time, aye, when I could take as damned well long as I pleased.
He returned and would have climbed back into the saddle, but Sandalath insisted he wash his hands in the sea. Once this was done, he collected up the hammer, brushed sand from it, and then mounted the horse.