The Edur’s scream trailed away. ‘The nests are getting more elaborate,’ Withal said. ‘I think he’s striving for a particular shape. Sloped walls, a triangular entrance. Then Mape wrecks it. What am I to take from all that?’
‘He can keep his damned sword. I’m not going. Over there. I’m not going over there and don’t try to make me.’
‘I have nothing to do. Nothing.’
Rhulad crawled towards him. ‘You made that sword!’ he said in an accusatory rasp.
‘Fire, hammer, anvil and quenching. I’ve made more swords than I can count. Just iron and sweat. They were broken blades, I think. Those black shards. From some kind of narrow-bladed, overlong knife. Two of them, black and brittle. Just pieces, really. I wonder where he collected them from?’
‘Everything breaks,’ Rhulad said.
Withal glanced over. ‘Aye, lad. Everything breaks.’
‘You could do it.’
‘Do what?’
‘Break that sword.’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Everything breaks!’
‘Including people, lad.’
‘That’s not good enough.’
Withal shrugged. ‘I don’t remember much of anything any more. I think he’s stealing my mind. He says he’s my god. All I need to do is worship him, he says. And everything will come clear. So tell xn Rhulad Sengar, is it all clear to you?’
‘This evil – it’s of your making!’
‘Is it? Maybe you’re right. I accepted his bargain. But he lied, you see He said he’d set me free, once I made the sword. He lies, Rhulad. That much I know. I know that now. This god lies .’
‘I have power. I am emperor. I’ve taken a wife. We are at war and Lether shall fall.’
Withal gestured inland. ‘And he’s waiting for you.’
‘They’re frightened of me.’
‘Fear breeds its own loyalty, lad. They’ll follow. They’re waiting too right now.’
Rhulad clawed at his face, shuddered. ‘He killed me. That man – not a Letherii, not a Letherii at all. He killed us. Seven of my brothers. And me. He was so… fast . It seemed he barely moved, and my kin were falling, dying.’
‘Next time will be harder. You’ll be harder. It won’t be as easy to find someone to kill you, next time. And the time after that. Do you understand that, lad? It’s the essence of that mangled god who’s waiting for you.’
‘Who is he?’
‘The god? A miserable little shit, Rhulad. Who has your soul in his hands.’
‘Father Shadow has abandoned us.’
‘Father Shadow is dead. Or as good as.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because if he wasn’t, he’d have never let the Crippled God steal you. You and your people. He’d have come marching ashore…’ Withal fell silent.
And that, he realized, was what he was coming to. A blood-soaked truth.
He hated religion, hated the gods. And he was alone.
‘I will kill him. With the sword.’
‘Fool. There’s nothing on this island that he doesn’t hear, doesn’t see, doesn’t know.’
Except, maybe, what’s in my mind now. And, even if he knew, how could he stop me? No, he doesn’t know. I must believe that. After all, if he did, he’d kill me. Right now, he’d kill me.
Rhulad climbed to his feet. ‘I’m ready for him.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes.’
Withal sighed. He glanced over at the two Nachts. Their contested driftwood was a scattering of splinters lying between them. Both creatures were staring down at it, bemused, poking fingers through the mess. The Meckros rose. ‘All right then, lad, let’s go.
She was behind the black glass, within a tunnel of translucent obsidian, and there were no ghosts.
‘Kurald Galain,’ Corlo said in a whisper, casting a glance back at them over one shoulder. ‘Unexpected. It’s a rotten conquest. That, or the Edur don’t even know it, don’t even know what they’re using.’
The air stank of death. Withered flesh, the breath of a crypt. The black stone beneath their feet was greasy and uncertain. Overhead, the ceiling was uneven, barely a hand’s width higher than Iron Bars, who was the tallest among the group.
‘It’s a damned rats’ maze,’ the mage continued, pausing at a branching.
‘Just take us south,’ Iron Bars said in a low growl.
‘Fine, but which way is that?’