No wonder Quick Ben is hiding.
'They killed everyone,' Bottle said, shivering. 'A whole damned island's worth of people. And Monkan Isle, too – it's in the wind, now, the truth of that.'
'Be glad for that wind,' Koryk said. 'We've left that nightmare behind fast, damned fast, and that's good, isn't it?'
Cuttle sat straighter and looked at Fiddler. 'Sergeant, wasn't Sepik an Imperial principality?'
Fiddler nodded.
'So, what these Tiste Edur did, it's an act of war, isn't it?'
Bottle and the others looked over at the sergeant, who was scowling – and clearly chewing over Cuttle's words. Then he said, 'Technically, aye. Is the Empress going to see it that way? Or even care? We got us enough enemies as it is.'
'The Adjunct,' Tarr said, 'she'll have to report it even so. And the fact that we already clashed once with that damned fleet of theirs.'
'It's probably tracking us right now,' Cuttle said, grimacing. 'And we're going to lead it straight back to the heart of the empire.'
'Good,' Tarr said. 'Then we can crush the bastards.'
'That,' Bottle muttered, 'or they crush us. What Quick Ben did, it wasn't real-'
'To start,' Fiddler said.
Bottle said nothing. Then, 'Some allies you're better off without.'
'Why?' the sergeant demanded.
'Well,' Bottle elaborated, 'the allies that can't be figured out, the ones with motives and goals that stay forever outside our comprehension – that's what we're talking about here, Sergeant. And believe me, we don't want a war fought with the sorcery of the Holds.
We don't.'
The others were staring at him.
Bottle looked away.
'Drag 'im round the hull,' Cuttle said. 'That'll get him to cough it all up.'
'Tempting,' Fiddler said, 'but we got time. Lots of time.'
You fools. Time is the last thing we got. That's what she's trying to tell us. With this eerie wind, thrusting like a fist through Mael's realm – and there's not a thing he can do about it. Take that, Mael, you crusty barnacle!
Time? Forget it. She's driving us into the heart of a storm.
Chapter Twenty
Discipline is the greatest weapon against the self-righteous. We must measure the virtue of our own controlled response when answering the atrocities of fanatics. And yet, let it not be claimed, in our own oratory of piety, that we are without our own fanatics; for the selfrighteous breed wherever tradition holds, and most often when there exists the perception that tradition is under assault. Fanatics can be created as easily in an environment of moral decay (whether real or imagined) as in an environment of legitimate inequity or under the banner of a common cause.
Discipline is as much facing the enemy within as the enemy before you; for without critical judgement, the weapon you wield delivers – and let us not be coy here – naught but murder.
And its first victim is the moral probity of your cause. (Words to the Adherents) Mortal Sword Brukhalian The Grey Swords It was growing harder, Ganoes Paran realized, not to regret certain choices he had made. While scouts reported that the Deragoth were not trailing his army as it marched north and east across virtually empty lands, this very absence led to suspicion and trepidation. After all, if those hoary beasts were not following them, what were they up to?
Ganath, the Jaghut sorceress, had more or less intimated that Paran's decision to unleash those beasts was a terrible mistake. He probably should have listened to her. It was a conceit to imagine he could manipulate indefinitely all the forces he had let loose to deal with the T'rolbarahl. And, perhaps, there had been a lack of confidence in the capabilities of ascendants already active in this realm. The Deragoth were primal, but sometimes, that which was primal found itself assailed by a world that no longer permitted its unmitigated freedom.
Well, enough of that. It's done, isn't it. Let someone else clean up the mess I made, just for a change.
Then he frowned. Granted, that's probably not the proper attitude for the Master of the Deck. But I didn't ask for the title, did I?
Paran rode in the company of soldiers, somewhere in the middle of the column. He didn't like the notion of an entourage, or a vanguard. Fist Rythe Bude was leading the way at the moment, although that position rotated among the Fists. While Paran remained where he was, with only Noto Boil beside him and, occasionally, Hurlochel, who appeared when there was some message to deliver – and there were, blissfully, scant few of those.