‘Setch is weak, is what he is. To have them both come from my loins shrinks my sack with shame.’
‘Amend that defect before you stand naked before Mother Dark.’
‘In so many ways I will give thanks to the darkness surrounding her. Now, my words remain bold as weapons, but my thoughts shy from reason. I am drunk and unmanned and the only retreat awaiting me is senseless slumber. Good night to you, old friend. When next we meet, it shall be Thel Akai ale and the gifting shall be from my hand to yours.’
‘Already you dream of vengeance.’
‘I do, and with pleasure.’
‘That nearly killed us,’ gasped Sechul Lath, his right arm hanging useless and broken in at least two places. He leaned forward as far as he could and spat out blood and mucus, which was better than swallowing it, as he had been doing since the stubborn woman’s death. The taste in his mouth belonged to violence and savage fear, and now it sat heavy in his stomach. ‘And I am still of two minds.’
Errastas, kneeling nearby, finished binding the deep wound on his thigh and then looked away, back down the glittering trail. ‘I was right,’ he said. ‘They’re coming. Her Tiste blood flows true.’
‘How will this work, Errastas? I am still uncertain…’ Sechul Lath looked down at the corpse. ‘Abyss below, but she was hard to kill!’
‘They are at that,’ Errastas agreed. ‘But this blood — see it flow down the path? See how it swallows gems, diamonds and gold, all of our stolen loot? There is power in this.’
‘But not Azathanai power.’
Errastas snorted, and then wiped blood from his nose. ‘We are not the only elemental forces in creation, Setch. I sense, however, that the power we spilled out here comes as much from outrage as anything else. No matter. It is puissant.’
‘I feel,’ said Sechul Lath, looking round, ‘that this place is not for us.’
‘Mother Dark dares to claim it,’ Errastas said, sneering. ‘Darkness — as if she could claim the domain as entirely her own! What arrogance! Look below, Setch — what do you see?’
‘I see Chaos, Errastas. An endless storm.’
‘We make this place a trap. Let its Tiste name stand. Spar of Andii it shall remain — it hardly confers a right to ownership. By our deeds we undermine its purity. K’rul is not the only one who understands the efficacy of blood.’
‘So you keep saying, but I wonder if we truly know what we’re doing.’
‘Perhaps you don’t, though Abyss take me I’ve tried explaining it to you often enough. I know, Setch, and so you’ll just have to trust me. K’rul would simply give power away, freely, to any who might want it. By this, he undermines its value. He dislodges the proper order of things. We will best him, Setch. I will best him.’ He pushed himself up against a boulder. ‘We haven’t long. They’re coming, that Jaghut and his Tiste hostage. Listen to me. Mother Dark understands the exclusivity of power, though she reaches too far, revealing outrageous greed. We must draw her into this fray. We must awaken her to the threat these new Warrens pose — to us all. It’s important that she resist him, and so occupy all of K’rul’s attention. So distracted, he will not see us, and most certainly not comprehend our intentions, until it is too late.’ He looked up at Sechul Lath. ‘There, I have explained it yet again. Yet I see disappointment in your eyes — what now?’
‘It felt blunt. Crass, even, the way you said it. It lacked subtlety.’
‘I yield the meaningless secrets, Setch, to better hold hidden the important ones. Think of prod and pull, if you like. Explore the concepts in your mind, and muse on the pleasures of misdirection.’
Sechul Lath studied Errastas, lying there propped up against a boulder, beaten half to death. ‘Are you truly as clever as you think you are?’
Errastas laughed. ‘Oh, Setch, it hardly matters. The suspicion is enough, making fecund the soil of imagination. Let others fill the gaps in my cleverness, and make of me in their eyes a genius.’
‘I doubt the veracity of your words.’
‘Well you should. Now, help me up. We must leave here.’
‘Exploiting the very freedom K’rul offers us.’
‘I delight in the irony.’
Sechul Lath turned and looked down at the corpse of the Jaghut, lying so near the edge of the spar. It was a fell thing, to murder someone. Errastas was right: outrage swirled in the air, thick as smoke. It felt heady enough to make his head spin.