Mark Lawrence The Broken Empire 01 - DropPDF1.droppdf.com/files/xpuK6/mark-lawrence-the-broken-empire-01-prin… · “Boy!” Bovid called out, his voice all hollow like, and weak.

TableofContents

TitlePageCopyrightPageDedicationAcknowledgementsChapter1Chapter2

Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5-FouryearsearlierChapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9-FouryearsearlierChapter10Chapter11-FouryearsearlierChapter12-FouryearsearlierChapter13-Fouryears

earlierChapter14Chapter15-FouryearsearlierChapter16-FouryearsearlierChapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23

Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34Chapter35Chapter36-Fouryears

earlierChapter37Chapter38Chapter39Chapter40Chapter41Chapter42Chapter43Chapter44Chapter45Chapter46Chapter47Chapter48

Chapter49

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Lawrence,Mark,1966–

p.cm.—(Thebrokenempire;bk.1)ISBN:978-1-101-54329-0

1.Princes—Fiction.2.Revenge—Fiction.I.Title.

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ToCelyn,thebestpartswereneverbroken

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

IwouldliketothankHelenMazarakisandSharonMackfortheirhelpandsupport.

1

Ravens!Alwaystheravens.Theysettledonthegablesofthechurchevenbeforetheinjuredbecamethedead.EvenbeforeRikehadfinishedtakingfingersfromhands,andringsfromfingers.Ileanedbackagainstthe

gallowspostandnoddedtothebirds,adozenoftheminablackline,wise-eyedandwatching.Thetown-squareranred.

Bloodinthegutters,bloodontheflagstones,bloodinthefountain.Thecorpsesposedascorpsesdo.Somecomical,reachingfortheskywithmissingfingers,somepeaceful,coiledabouttheirwounds.Fliesroseabovethe

woundedastheystruggled.Thiswayandthat,someblind,somesly,allbetrayedbytheirbuzzingentourage.“Water!Water!”It’s

alwayswaterwiththedying.Strange,it’skillingthatgivesmeathirst.AndthatwasMabberton.

Twohundreddeadfarmerslyingwiththeirscythesandaxes.Youknow,Iwarnedthemthatwedothisfora

living.Isaidittotheirleader,BovidTor.Igavethemthatchance,Ialwaysdo.Butno.Theywantedbloodandslaughter.Andtheygotit.War,myfriends,isathing

ofbeauty.Thoseassaysotherwisearelosing.IfI’dbotheredtogoovertooldBovid,proppedupagainstthefountainwithhisgutsinhislap,he’dprobablytakeacontraryview.Butlook

wheredisagreeinggothim.“Shit-poorfarmmaggots.”

RikediscardedahandfuloffingersoverBovid’sopenbelly.Hecametome,holdingouthistakings,asifitwasmyfault.“Look!Onegoldring.One!Awholevillageandonefeckinggoldring.I’dliketosetthebastardsupandknock’emdownagain.Feckingbog-farmers.”Hewouldtoo:hewasan

evilbastard,andgreedywithit.Iheldhiseye.“Settledown,BrotherRike.There’smorethanonekindofgoldinMabberton.”Igavehimmywarning

look.Hiscursingstolethemagicfromthescene;besides,Ihadtobesternwithhim.Rikewasalwaysontheedgeafterabattle,wantingmore.IgavehimalookthattoldhimIhadmore.More

thanhecouldhandle.Hegrumbled,stowedhisbloodyring,andthrusthisknifebackinhisbelt.Makincameupthenand

flunganarmabouteachofus,clappinggauntlettoshoulder-plate.IfMakinhadaskill,thensmoothingthingsoverwasit.“BrotherJorgisright,

LittleRikey.There’streasureaplentytobefound.”Hewas

wonttocallRike“LittleRikey,”onaccountofhimbeingaheadtallerthananyofusandtwiceaswide.Makinalwaystoldjokes.He’dtellthemtothoseashekilled,iftheygavehimtime.Likedtoseethemgooutwithasmile.“Whattreasure?”Rike

wantedtoknow,stillsurly.“Whenyougetfarmers,

whatelsedoyoualwaysget,

LittleRikey?”Makinraisedhiseyebrowsallsuggestive.Rikeliftedhisvisor,

treatingustohisuglyface.Well,brutalmorethanugly.Ithinkthescarsimprovedhim.“Cows?”Makinpursedhislips.I

neverlikedhislips,toothickandfleshy,butIforgavehimthat,forhisjokingandhisdeathlyworkwiththatflailofhis.“Well,youcanhavethe

cows,LittleRikey.Me,I’mgoingtofindafarmer’sdaughterorthree,beforetheothersusethemallup.”Theywentoffthen,Rike

doingthatlaughofhis,“hur,hur,hur,”asifhewastryingtocoughafishboneout.Iwatchedthemforcethe

doortoBovid’splaceoppositethechurch,afinehouse,highroofedwithwoodenslatesandalittle

flowergardeninfront.Bovidfollowedthemwithhiseyes,buthecouldn’tturnhishead.Ilookedattheravens,I

watchedGemtandhishalf-witbrother,Maical,takingheads,MaicalwiththecartandGemtwiththeaxe.Athingofbeauty,Itellyou.Atleasttolookat.I’llagreewarsmellsbad.Butwe’dtorchtheplacesoonenoughandthestinkwouldallturntowood-

smoke.Goldrings?Ineedednomorepayment.“Boy!”Bovidcalledout,

hisvoiceallhollowlike,andweak.Iwenttostandbeforehim,

leaningonmysword,tiredinmyarmsandlegsallofasudden.“Bestspeakyourpiecequickly,farmer.BrotherGemt’sa-comingwithhisaxe.Chop-chop.”Hedidn’tseemtoo

worried.It’shardtoworryamansoclosetotheworm-feast.Still,itirkedmethatheheldmesolightlyandcalledme“boy.”“Doyouhavedaughters,farmer?Hidinginthecellarmaybe?OldRikewillsniffthemout.”Bovidlookedupsharpat

that,painedandsharp.“H-howoldareyou,boy?”Againthe“boy.”“Old

enoughtoslityouopenlikea

fatpurse,”Isaid,gettingangrynow.Idon’tliketogetangry.Itmakesmeangry.Idon’tthinkhecaughteventhat.Idon’tthinkheevenknewitwasmethatopenedhimupnothalfanhourbefore.“Fifteensummers,no

more.Couldn’tbemore...”Hiswordscameslow,frombluelipsinawhiteface.Outbytwo,Iwouldhave

toldhim,buthe’dgonepasthearing.Thecartcreakedupbehindme,andGemtcamealongwithhisaxedripping.“Takehishead,”Itold

them.“Leavehisfatbellyfortheravens.”Fifteen!I’dhardlybe

fifteenandroustingvillages.Bythetimefifteencame

around,I’dbeKing!

Somepeopleareborntorubyouthewrongway.BrotherGemtwasborntorubtheworldthewrongway.

2

Mabbertonburnedwell.Allthevillagesburnedwellthatsummer.Makincalleditahotbastardofasummer,toomeantogiveoutrain,andhewasn’twrong.Dustrosebehinduswhenwerodein;smokewhenwerodeout.

“Who’dbeafarmer?”Makinlikedtoaskquestions.“Who’dbeafarmer’s

daughter?”InoddedtowardRike,rollinginhissaddle,almosttiredenoughtofallout,wearingastupidgrinandaboltofsamiteclothoverhishalf-plate.WherehefoundsamiteinMabbertonIneverdidgettoknow.“BrotherRikedoesenjoy

hissimplepleasures,”Makin

said.Hedid.Rikehadahunger

forit.Hungrylikethefire.Theflamesfairateup

Mabberton.Iputthetorchtothethatchedinn,andthefirechasedusout.Justonemorebloodydayintheyears’longdeaththroesofourbrokenempire.Makinwipedathissweat,

smearinghimselfalloverwithsootstripes.Hehada

talentforgettingdirty,didMakin.“Youweren’tabovethosesimplepleasuresyourself,BrotherJorg.”Icouldn’targuethere.

“Howoldareyou?”thatfatfarmerhadwantedtoknow.Oldenoughtopayacallonhisdaughters.Thefatgirlhadalottosay,justlikeherfather.Screechedlikeabarnowl:hurtmyearswithit.Ilikedtheolderonebetter.She

wasquietenough.Soquietyou’dgiveatwisthereortherejusttocheckshehadn’tdiedoffright.ThoughIdon’tsupposeeitherofthemwasquietwhenthefirereachedthem...Gemtrodeupandspoiled

myimaginings.“TheBaron’smenwillsee

thatsmokefromtenmiles.Youshouldn’taburnedit.”Heshookhishead,hisstupid

maneofgingerhairbobbingthiswayandthat.“Shouldn’ta,”hisidiot

brotherjoinedin,callingfromtheoldgrey.Welethimridetheoldgreywiththecarthitchedup.Thegreywouldn’tleavetheroad.ThathorsewasclevererthanMaical.Gemtalwayswantedto

pointstuffout.“Youshouldn’taputthembodies

downthewell,we’llgothirstynow.”“Youshouldn’takilledthatpriest,we’llhavebadlucknow.”“Ifwe’dgoneeasyonher,we’dhavearansomfromBaronKennick.”Ijustachedtoputmyknifethroughhisthroat.Rightthen.Justtoleanoutandplantitinhisneck.“What’sthat?Whatsayyou,BrotherGemt?Bubble,bubble?Shouldn’tastabbed

yourbulgyoldAdam’sapple?”“Ohno!”Icried,all

shocked-like.“Quick,LittleRikey,gopissonMabberton.Gottoputthatfireout.”“Baron’smenwillseeit,”

saidGemt,stubbornandred-faced.Hewentredasabeetifyoucrossedhim.Thatredfacejustmademewanttokillhimevenmore.Ididn’t,though.Yougot

responsibilitieswhenyou’realeader.Yougotaresponsibilitynottokilltoomanyofyourmen.Orwho’reyougoingtolead?Thecolumnbunchedup

aroundus,thewayitalwaysdidwhensomethingwasup.IpulledonGerrod’sreinsandhestoppedwithasnickerandastamp.IwatchedGemtandwaited.Waiteduntilallthirty-eightofmybrothers

gatheredaround,andGemtgotsoredyou’dthinkhisearswouldbleed.“Whereweallgoing,my

brothers?”Iasked,andIstoodinmystirrupssoIcouldlookoutovertheiruglyfaces.Iaskeditinmyquietvoiceandtheyallhushedtohear.“Where?”Iaskedagain.

“Surelyitisn’tjustmethatknows?DoIkeepsecrets

fromyou,mybrothers?”Rikelookedabitconfused

atthis,furrowinghisbrow.FatBurlowcameuponmyright,onmylefttheNubanwithhisteethsowhiteinthatsoot-blackface.Silence.“BrotherGemtcantellus.

Heknowswhatshouldbeandwhatis.”Ismiled,thoughmyhandstillachedwithwantingmydaggerinhisneck.“Wherewegoing,Brother

Gemt?”“Wennith,ontheHorse

Coast,”hesaid,allreluctant,notwantingtoagreetoanything.“Wellandgood.Howwe

goingtogetthere?Nearfortyofusonourfineoh-so-stolenhorses?”Gemtsethisjaw.Hecould

seewhereIwasgoing.“Howwegoingtoget

there,ifwewantusasliceof

thepiewhileit’sstillniceandhot?”Iasked.“LichRoad!”Rikecalled

out,allpleasedthatheknewtheanswer.“LichRoad,”Irepeated,

stillquietandsmiling.“Whatotherwaycouldwego?”IlookedattheNuban,holdinghisdarkeyes.Icouldn’treadhim,butIlethimreadme.“Ain’tnootherway.”Rike’sonaroll,Ithought,

hedon’tknowwhatgame’sbeingplayed,buthelikeshispart.“DotheBaron’smenknow

wherewe’regoing?”IaskedFatBurlow.“Wardogsfollowthe

front,”hesaid.FatBurlowain’tstupid.Hisjowlsquiverwhenhespeaks,butheain’tstupid.“So...”Ilookedaround

them,realslow-like.“So,the

Baronknowswherebanditssuchasourselveswillbegoing,andheknowsthewaywe’vegottogo.”Iletthatsinkin.“AndIjustlitabloodybigfirethattellshimandhiswhatabadideait’dbetofollow.”IstuckGemtwithmyknife

then.Ididn’tneedto,butIwantedit.Hedancedprettyenoughtoo,bubblebubbleonhisblood,andfelloffhis

horse.Hisredfacewentpalequickenough.“Maical,”Isaid.“Takehis

head.”Andhedid.Gemtjustchoseabad

moment.

WhateverbrokeBrother

Maicallefttheoutsideuntouched.Helookedassolidandastoughandassourastherestofthem.Untilyouaskedhimaquestion.

3

“Twodead,twowrigglers.”Makinworethatbiggrinofhis.We’dhavecampedbythe

gibbetinanycase,butMakinhadriddenonaheadtochecktheground.Ithoughtthenewsthattwoofthefour

gibbetcagesheldliveprisonerswouldcheerthebrothers.“Two,”Rikegrumbled.

He’dtiredhimselfout,andatiredLittleRikeyalwaysseesagibbetashalfempty.“Two!”theNubanhollered

downtheline.Icouldseesomeofthe

ladsexchangingcoinontheirbets.TheLichRoadisasboringasaSundaysermon.It

runsstraightandlevel.Sostraightitgetssoasyou’dkillforaleftturnorarightturn.Solevelyou’dcheeraslope.Andoneveryside,marsh,midges,midgesandmoremarsh.OntheLichRoaditdidn’tgetanybetterthantwocagedwrigglersonagibbet.StrangethatIdidn’tthink

toquestionwhatbusinessagibbethadstandingoutthereinthemiddleofnowhere.I

tookitasabounty.Somebodyhadlefttheirprisonerstodie,danglingincagesattheroadside.Astrangespottochoose,butfreeentertainmentformylittlebandnonetheless.Thebrotherswereeager,soInudgedGerrodintoatrot.Agoodhorse,Gerrod.Heshookoffhiswearinessandclatteredalong.There’snoroadliketheLichRoadfor

clatteringalong.“Wrigglers!”Rikegavea

shoutandtheywereallracingtocatchup.IletGerrodhavehishead.

Hewouldn’tletanyhorsegetpasthim.Notonthisroad.Notwitheveryyardofitpaved,everyflagstonefittingwiththenextsocloseabladeofgrasscouldn’thopeforthelight.Notastoneturned,notastoneworn.Builtonabog,

mindyou!Ibeatthemtothe

wrigglers,ofcourse.NoneofthemcouldtouchGerrod.Certainlynotwithmeonhisbackandthemallhalfasheavyagain.AtthegibbetIturnedtolookbackatthem,strungoutalongtheroad.Iyelledout,wildwiththejoyofit,loudenoughtowakethehead-cart.Gemtwouldbeinthere,bouncingaroundatthe

back.Makinreachedmefirst,

eventhoughhe’drodethedistancetwicebefore.“LettheBaron’smen

come,”Itoldhim.“TheLichRoadisasgoodasanybridge.Tenmencouldholdanarmyhere.Themthatwantstoflankuscandrowninthebog.”Makinnodded,still

huntinghisbreath.

“Theoneswhobuiltthisroad...ifthey’dmakemeacastle—”Thunderintheeastcutacrossmywords.“IftheRoad-menbuilt

castles,we’dnevergetinanywhere,”Makinsaid.“Behappythey’regone.”Wewatchedthebrothers

comein.Thesunsetturnedthemarshpoolstoorangefire,andIthoughtofMabberton.

“Agoodday,BrotherMakin,”Isaid.“Indeed,BrotherJorg,”he

said.So,thebrotherscameand

settoarguingoverthewrigglers.Iwentandsatagainsttheloot-carttoreadwhilethelightstayedwithusandtherainheldoff.ThedayleftmeinmindtoreadPlutarch.Ihadhimalltomyself,sandwichedbetween

leathercovers.Someworthymonkspentalifetimeonthatbook.Alifetimehunchedoverit,brushinhand.Herethegold,forhalo,sun,andscrollwork.Hereabluelikepoison,bluerthananoonsky.Tinyvermiliondotstomakeabedofflowers.Probablywentblindoverit,thatmonk.Probablypouredhislifeinhere,fromyoungladtogrey-head,prettyingupold

Plutarch’swords.Thethunderrolled,the

wrigglerswriggledandhowled,andIsatreadingwordsthatwereolderthanoldbeforetheRoad-menbuilttheirroads.“You’recowards!Women

withyourswordsandaxes!”Oneofthecrow-feastsonthegibbethadamouthonhim.“Notamanamongstyou.

Allpederasts,trailinguphere

afterthatlittleboy.”HecurledhiswordsupattheendlikeaMerssy-man.“There’safellaoverhere

gotanopinionaboutyou,BrotherJorg!”Makincalledout.Adropofrainhitmynose.

IclosedthecoveronPlutarch.He’dwaitedawhiletotellmeaboutSpartaandLycurgus,hecouldwaitsomemoreandnotgetwetdoingit.

ThewrigglerhadmoretosayandIlethimtellittomyback.Ontheroadyou’vegottowrapabookwelltokeeptherainout.Tenturnsofoilcloth,tenmoreturnstheotherway,thenstashitunderacloakinasaddlebag.Agoodsaddlebagmind,noneofthatjunkfromtheThurtans,gooddouble-stitchedleatherfromtheHorseCoast.Theladspartedtoletme

upclose.Thegibbetstankworsethanthehead-cart,acrudethingoffresh-cuttimber.Fourcageshungthere.Twohelddeadmen.Verydeadmen.Legsdanglingthroughthebars,raven-peckedtothebone.Fliesthickaboutthem,likeasecondskin,blackandbuzzing.Theladshadtakenafewpokesatoneofthewrigglers,andhedidn’tlook

toocheerfulforit.Infacthelookedasifhe’dpeggedit.Whichwasawaste,aswehadawholenightaheadofus,andI’dhavesaidasmuch,butforthewrigglerwiththemouth.“Sonowtheboycomes

over!He’sfinishedlookingforlewdpicturesinhisstolenbook.”Hesatcrouchedupinhiscage,hisfeetallbleedingandraw.Anoldman,maybe

forty,allblackhairandgreybeardanddarkeyesglittering.“Takethepagestowipeyourdung,boy,”hesaidfierce-like,grabbingthebarsallofasudden,makingthecageswing.“It’stheonlyuseyou’llgetfromit.”“Wecouldsetaslowfire?”

Rikesaid.EvenRikeknewtheoldmanjustwantedusangry,sowe’dfinishhimquick.“Likewedidatthe

Turstongibbets.”Afewchuckleswentupat

that.NotfromMakinthough.Hehadafrownonunderhisdirtandsoot,staringatthewriggler.Iheldupahandtoquietthemdown.“It’dbeashamefulwaste

ofsuchafinebook,FatherGomst,”Isaid.LikeMakin,I’drecognized

Gomstthroughallthatbeardandhair.Withoutthataccent

thoughhe’dhavegotroasted.“Especiallyan‘On

Lycurgus’writteninhighLatin,notthatpidgin-Romanotheyteachinchurch.”“Youknowme?”Heasked

itinacrackedvoice,weepyallofasudden.“OfcourseIdo.”Ipushed

bothhandsthroughmylovelylocks,andsetmyhairbacksohecouldseemeproperinthe

gloom.IhavethesharpdarklooksoftheAncraths.“You’reFatherGomst,cometotakemebacktoschool.”“Pr-prin...”Hewas

blubbingnow,unabletogethiswordsout.Disgustingreally.MademefeelasifI’dbittensomethingrotten.“PrinceHonorousJorg

Ancrath,atyourservice.”Ididmycourtbow.“Wh-whatbecameof

CaptainBortha?”FatherGomstswunggentlyinhiscage,allconfused.“CaptainBortha,sir!”

Makinsnappedasaluteandsteppedup.Hehadbloodonhimfromthefirstwriggler.Wehadusadeathly

silencethen.Eventhechirpandwhirofthemarshhusheddowntoawhisper.Thebrotherslookedfromme,backtotheoldpriest,and

backtome,mouthshangingopen.LittleRikeycouldn’thavelookedmoresurprisedifyou’daskedhimninetimessix.Therainchosethat

momenttofall,allatonceasiftheLordAlmightyhademptiedhischamberpotoverus.Thegloomthathadbeengatheringsetthickastreacle.“PrinceJorg!”Father

Gomsthadtoshoutoverthe

rain.“Thenight!You’vegottorun!”Heheldthebarsofhiscage,white-knuckled,wideeyesunblinkinginthedownpour,staringintothedarkness.Andthroughthenight,

throughtherain,overthemarshwherenomancouldwalk,wesawthemcoming.Wesawtheirlights.Palelightssuchasthedeadburnindeeppoolswheremen

aren’tmeanttolook.Lightsthat’dpromisewhateveramancouldwant,andwouldsetyouchasingthem,huntinganswersandfindingonlycoldmud,deepandhungry.IneverlikedFatherGomst.

He’dbeentellingmewhattodosinceIwassix,mostoftenwiththebackofhishandasthereason.“Run,PrinceJorg!Run!”

oldGomstyhowled,

sickeninglyself-sacrificing.SoIstoodmyground.

BrotherGainswasn’tthecookbecausehewasgoodatcooking.Hewasjustbadateverythingelse.

4

Thedeadcameonthroughtherain,theghostsofthebog-dead,ofthedrowned,andofmenwhosecorpsesweregiventothemire.IsawRedKentrunblindandflounderinthemarsh.Afewofthebrothershadthesense

totaketheroadwhentheyran,mostendedinthemire.FatherGomststarted

prayinginhiscage,shoutingoutthewordslikeashield:“Fatherwhoartinheavenprotectthyson.Fatherwhoartinheaven.”Fasterandfaster,asthefeargotintohim.Thefirstofthemcameup

overthesuckingpool,andontotheLichway.Hehada

glowabouthimlikemoonlight,somethingthatyouknewwouldneverwarmyou.Youcouldseehisbodylimnedinthelight,withtherainracingthroughhimandbouncingontheroad.Nobodystoodwithme.

TheNubanran,eyeswideinadarkface.FatBurlowlookingasifthebloodwasletfromhim.Rikescreaminglikeachild.EvenMakin,

withahorroronhim.Iheldmyarmswidetothe

rain.Icouldfeelitbeatonme.Ididn’thavesomanyyearsundermybelt,buteventometherainfelllikememory.ItwokewildnightsinmewhenIstoodontheKeepTower,ontheedgeaboveahighfall,neardrownedinthedelugeanddaringthelightningtotouchme.

“OurFatherwhoartinheaven.Fatherwhoart...”Gomststartedtogabblewhenthelichcameclose.Itburnedwithacoldfireandyoucouldfeelitlickingatyourbones.Ikeptmyarmswideand

myfacetotherain.“Myfatherisn’tinheaven,

Gomsty,”Isaid.“He’sinhiscastle,countingouthismen.”Thedeadthingclosedon

me,andIlookedinitseyes.

Hollowtheywere.“Whathaveyougot?”I

said.Anditshowedme.AndIshowedit.There’sareasonI’mgoing

towinthiswar.Everyonealivehasbeenfightingabattlethatgrewoldbeforetheywereborn.Icutmyteethonthewoodensoldiersinmyfather’swar-room.There’sareasonI’mgoingtowin

wheretheyfailed.It’sbecauseIunderstandthegame.“Hell,”thedeadmansaid.

“I’vegothell.”Andheflowedintome,

coldasdying,edgedlikearazor.Ifeltmymouthcurlina

smile.Iheardmylaughingovertherain.Aknifeisascarything

rightenough,heldtoyour

throat,sharpandcool.Thefiretoo,andtherack.AndanoldghostontheLichway.Allofthemmightgiveyoupause.Untilyourealizewhattheyare.They’rejustwaystolosethegame.Youlosethegame,andwhathaveyoulost?You’velostthegame.That’sthesecret,andit

amazesmethatit’smineandminealone.Isawthegameforwhatitwasthenight

whenCountRenar’smencaughtourcarriage.Therewasastormthatnighttoo,Irememberthedinofrainonthecarriageroofandthethunderbeneathit.BigJanhadfairhauledthe

dooroffitshingestogetusout.Heonlyhadtimeformethough.Hethrewmeclear;intoabriarpatchsothickthattheCount’smenpersuadedthemselvesI’drunintothe

night.Theydidn’twanttosearchit.ButIhadn’trun.I’dhungthereinthethorns,andIsawthemkillBigJan.Isawitinthefrozenmomentsthelightninggaveme.Isawwhattheydidto

Mother,andhowlongittook.TheybrokelittleWilliam’sheadagainstamilestone.Goldencurlsandblood.AndI’lladmitthatWilliamwasthefirstofmybrothers,and

hedidhavehishooksinme,withhischubbyhandsandlaughing.SincethenI’vetakenonmanyabrother,andevilonesatthat,soI’dnotmissoneorthree.Butatthetime,itdidhurttoseelittleWilliambrokenlikethat,likeatoy.Likesomethingworthless.Whentheykilledhim,

Motherwouldn’tholdherpeace,sotheyslitherthroat.I

wasstupidthen,beingonlynine,andIfoughttosavethemboth.Butthethornsheldmetight.I’velearnedtoappreciatethornssince.Thethornstaughtmethe

game.Theyletmeunderstandwhatallthosegrimandseriousmenwho’vefoughttheHundredWarhaveyettolearn.Youcanonlywinthegamewhenyouunderstandthatitisagame.Letaman

playchess,andtellhimthateverypawnishisfriend.Lethimthinkbothbishopsholy.Lethimrememberhappydaysintheshadowsofhiscastles.Lethimlovehisqueen.Watchhimlosethemall.“Whathaveyougotfor

me,deadthing?”Iasked.It’sagame.Iwillplaymy

pieces.Ifelthimcoldinsideme.I

sawhisdeath.Isawhisdespair.Andhishunger.AndIgaveitback.I’dexpectedmore,buthewasonlydead.Ishowedhimtheempty

timewheremymemorywon’tgo.Ilethimlookthere.Heranfrommethen.He

ran,andIchasedhim.Butonlytotheedgeofthemarsh.Becauseit’sagame.AndI’mgoingtowin.

5

Fouryearsearlier

ForthelongesttimeIstudiedrevengetotheexclusionofallelse.Ibuiltmyfirsttorturechamberinthedarkvaultsofimagination.Lyingonbloody

sheetsintheHealingHallIdiscovereddoorswithinmymindthatI’dnotfoundbefore,doorsthatevenachildofnineknowsshouldnotbeopened.Doorsthatnevercloseagain.Ithrewthemwide.SirReillyfoundme,

hangingwithinthehook-briar,nottenyardsfromthesmokingruinofthecarriage.Theyalmostmissedme.I

sawthemreachthebodiesontheroad.Iwatchedthemthroughthebriar,silverglimpsesofSirReilly’sarmour,andflashesofredfromthetabardsofAncrathfootsoldiers.Motherwaseasytofind,in

hersilks.“SweetJesu!It’sthe

Queen!”SirReillyhadthemturnherover.“Gently!Showsomerespect—”Hebrokeoff

withagasp.TheCount’smenhadn’tleftherpretty.“Sir!BigJan’soverhere,

GremandJassartoo.”IsawthemheaveJanover,thenturntotheotherguardsmen.“They’dbetterbedead!”

SirReillyspat.“Lookfortheprinces!”Ididn’tseethemfindWill,

butIknewtheyhadbythesilencethatspreadacrossthemen.Iletmychinfallbackto

mychestandwatchedthedarkpatterningofbloodonthedryleavesaroundmyfeet.“Ah,hell...”Oneofthe

menspokeatlast.“Gethimonahorse.Easy

withhim,”SirReillysaid.Acrackranthroughhisvoice.“Andfindtheheir!”Withmorevigour,butnohope.Itriedtocalltothem,but

thestrengthhadrunfromme,

Icouldn’tevenliftmyhead.“He’snothere,SirReilly.”“They’vetakenhimasa

hostage,”SirReillysaid.Hehadpartofitright,

somethingheldmeagainstmywill.“SethimbytheQueen.”“Gentle!Gentlewithhim.

..”“Securethem,”SirReilly

said.“WeridehardfortheTallCastle.”

Partofmewantedtoletthemgo.Ifeltnopainanymore,justadullache,andeventhatwasfading.Apeacefoldedmewiththepromiseofforgetting.“Sir!”Ashoutwentup

fromoneofthemen.Iheardtheclankofarmour

asSirReillystrodeacrosstosee.“Pieceofashield?”he

asked.

“Founditinthemud,thecarriagewheelmusthavepusheditunder.”Thesoldierpaused.Iheardscraping.“Lookslikeablackwingtome...”“Acrow.Acrowonared

field.It’sCountRenar’scolours,”Reillysaid.CountRenar?Ihada

name.Ablackcrowonaredfield.Theinsigniaflashedacrossmyeyes,seareddeep

bythelightningoflastnight’sstorm.Afirelitwithinme,andthepainfromahundredhooksburnedineverylimb.Agroanescapedme.Mylipsparted,dryskintearing.AndReillyfoundme.“There’ssomethinghere!”

Iheardhimcurseasthehook-briarfoundeverychinkinhisarmour.“Quicklynow!Pullthisstuffapart.”“Dead.”Iheardthe

whisperfrombehindSirReillyashecutmefree.“He’ssowhite.”Iguessthebriarnearbled

medry.Sotheyfetchedacartand

tookmeback.Ididn’tsleep.Iwatchedtheskyturnblack,andIthought.IntheHealingHallFriar

Glenandhishelper,Inch,dugthehooksfrommyflesh.Mytutor,Lundist,arrivedwhile

theyhadmeonthetablewiththeirknivesout.Hehadabookwithhim,thesizeofaTeutonshield,andthreetimesasheavybythelookofit.Lundisthadmorestrengthinthatwizenedoldstickofabodythananyoneguessed.“Thosearefire-cleaned

knivesIhope,Friar?”LundistcarriedtheaccentofhishomelandsintheUtterEast,andatendencytoleavehalf

ofawordunspoken,asifanintelligentlistenershouldbeabletofillintheblanks.“Itispurityofspiritthat

willkeepcorruptionfromtheflesh,Tutor,”FriarGlensaid.HesparedLundistadisapprovingglance,andreturnedtohisdigging.“Evenso,cleantheknives,

Friar.HolyofficewillprovescantprotectionfromtheKing’sireifthePrincediesin

yourhalls.”Lundistsethisbookdownonthetablebesideme,rattlingatrayofvialsatthefarend.Heliftedthecoverandturnedtoamarkedpage.“‘Thethornsofthehook-

briarareliketofindthebone.’”Hetracedawrinkledyellowfingerdownthelines.“‘Thepointscanbreakoffandsourthewound.’”FriarGlengaveasharpjab

atthat,whichmademecryout.HesethisknifedownandturnedtofaceLundist.Icouldseeonlythefriar’sback,thebrownclothstrainingoverhisshoulders,darkwithsweatoverhisspine.“TutorLundist,”hesaid.

“Amaninyourprofessioniswonttothinkallthingsmaybelearnedfromthepagesofabook,ortherightscroll.

Learninghasitsplace,sirrah,butdonotthinktolecturemeonhealingonthebasisofaneveningspentwithanoldtome!”Well,FriarGlenwonthat

argument.Thesergeant-at-armshadto“help”TutorLundistfromthehall.IguessevenatnineIhada

seriouslackofspiritualpurity,formywoundssouredwithintwodays,andfornine

weeksIlayinfever,chasingdarkdreamsalongdeath’sborderlands.TheytellmeIragedand

howled.ThatIravedasthepusoozedfromsliceswherethebriarhadheldme.Irememberthestinkofcorruption.Ithadakindofsweetnesstoit,asweetnessthat’dmakeyouwanttohurl.Inch,thefriar’saide,grew

tiredofholdingmedown,

thoughhehadthearmsofalumberjack.Intheendtheytiedmetomybed.IlearnedfromTutor

Lundistthatthefriarwouldnotattendmeafterthefirstweek.FriarGlensaidadevilwasinme.Howelsecouldachildspeaksuchhorror?InthefourthweekIslipped

thebondsthatheldmetomypallet,andsetafireinthehall.Ihavenomemoryofthe

escape,ormycaptureinthewoods.Whentheyclearedtheruin,theyfoundtheremainsofInch,withthepokerfromthehearthlodgedinhischest.ManytimesIstoodatthe

Door.Ihadseenmymotherandbrotherthrownthroughthatdoorway,tornandbroken,andindreamsmyfeetwouldtakemetostandthere,timeandagain.Ilackedthecouragetofollowthem,

heldonthebarbsandhooksofcowardice.SometimesIsawthedead-

landsacrossablackriver,sometimesacrossachasmspannedbyanarrowbridgeofstone.OnceIsawtheDoorintheguiseoftheportalstomyfather’sthrone-room,butedgedwithfrostandweepingpusfromeveryjoin.Ihadbuttosetmyhanduponthehandle...

TheCountofRenarkeptmealive.Thepromiseofhispaincrushedmyownunderitsheel.Hatewillkeepyoualivewherelovefails.Andthenonedaymyfever

leftme.Mywoundsremainedangryandred,buttheyclosed.Theyfedmechickeninsoup,andmystrengthcreptback,astrangertome.Thespringcametopaint

theleavesbackuponthe

trees.Ihadmystrength,butIfeltsomethingelsehadbeentaken.TakensocompletelyIcouldnolongernameit.Thesunreturned,and,

muchtoFriarGlen’sdistaste,Lundistreturnedtoinstructmeoncemore.Thefirsttimehecame,I

satabed.Iwatchedhimsetouthisbooksuponthetable.“Yourfatherwillseeyou

onhisreturnfromGelleth,”

Lundistsaid.Hisvoiceheldanoteofreproach,butnotforme.“ThedeathoftheQueenandPrinceWilliamweighheavyonhim.Whenthepaineaseshewillsurelycometospeakwithyou.”Ididn’tunderstandwhy

Lundistshouldfeeltheneedtolie.IknewmyfatherwouldnotwastetimeonmewhilstitseemedIwoulddie.Iknewhewouldseeme

whenseeingmeservedsomeend.“Tellme,tutor,”Isaid.“Is

revengeascience,oranart?”

6

Therainfalteredwhenthespiritsfled.I’donlybrokentheone,buttheothersrantoo,backtowhateverpoolstheyhaunted.Maybemyonehadbeentheirleader;maybemenbecomecowardsindeath.Idon’tknow.

Astomyowncowards,theyhadnowheretoflee,andIfoundthemeasilyenough.IfoundMakinfirst.He,atleast,washeadedbacktowardme.“Soyoufoundapair

then?”Icalledtohim.Hepausedamomentand

lookedatme.Theraindidn’tfallsoheavynow,buthestilllookedlikeadrownedrat.Thewaterraninrivuletsover

hisbreastplate,inandoutofthedents.Hecheckedthemarshtoeitherside,stillnervy,andloweredhissword.“Amanwho’sgotnofear

ismissingafriend,Jorg,”hesaid,andasmilefounditswayontothosethicklipsofhis.“Runningain’tnobadthing.Leastwaysifyourunintherightdirection.”HewavedahandtowardwhereRikewrestledwithaclumpof

bulrushes,themuduptohischestalready.“Fearhelpsamanpickhisfights.You’refightingthemall,myprince.”Andhebowed,thereontheLichwaywiththeraindrippingoffhim.IsparedaglanceforRike.

Maicalhadsimilarproblemsinapooltotheothersideoftheroad.Onlyhe’dgothisproblemsuptotheneck.“I’mgoingtofightthemall

intheend,”Isaidtohim.“Pickyourfights,”Makin

said.“I’llpickmyground,”I

said.“I’llpickmyground,butI’mnotrunning.Notever.That’sbeendone,andwestillhavethewar.I’mgoingtowinit,BrotherMakin,it’sgoingtoendwithme.”Hebowedagain.Notso

deep,butthistimeIfelthemeantit.“That’swhyI’ll

followyou,Prince.Whereverittakesus.”Forthemomentittookus

tofishingbrothersoutofthemud.WegotMaicalfirst,eventhoughRikehowledandcursedus.Astherainthinned,Icouldseethegreyandthehead-cartoffinthedistance.Thegreyhadthesensetokeeptotheroad,evenwhenMaicaldidn’t.IfMaicalhadledthegreyinto

themire,I’dhavelefthimtosink.WepulledRikeoutnext.

Whenwereachedhimthemudhadalmostfoundhismouth.Nothingbuthiswhitefaceshowedabovethepool,butthatdidn’tstophimshoutinghisfoulnessesalltheway.Wefoundmostofthemontheroad,butsixgotsuckeddowntooquick,lostforever;probablygetting

readytohauntthenextbandoftravellers.“I’mgoingbackforold

Gomsty,”Isaid.We’dcomeawaydown

theroadandthelighthadprettymuchgone.Lookingbackyoucouldn’tseethegibbets,justgreyveilsofrain.Outinthemarshthedeadwaited.Ifelttheircoldthoughtscrawlingonmyskin.

Ididn’taskanyofthemtogowithme.Iknewnoneofthemwould,anditdon’tdoforaleadertoaskandbetoldno.“Whatdoyouwantwith

thatoldpriest,BrotherJorg?”Makinsaid.Hewasaskingmenottogo;onlyhecouldn’tcomeoutandsayit.“Youstillwanttoburnhim

up?”Eventhemudcouldn’thideRike’ssuddencheer.

“Ido,”Isaid.“Butthat’snotwhyI’mgettinghim.”AndIsetoffbackalongtheLichway.Therainandthedarkness

wrappedme.Ilostthebrothers,waitingontheroadbehind.Gomstandthegibbetslayahead.Iwalkedinacocoonofsilence,withnothingbutthesoftwordsoftherain,andthesoundofmybootsontheLichway.

I’lltellyounow.Thatsilencealmostbeatme.It’sthesilencethatscaresme.It’stheblankpageonwhichIcanwritemyownfears.Thespiritsofthedeadhavenothingonit.Thedeadonetriedtoshowmehell,butitwasapaleimitationofthehorrorIcanpaintonthedarknessinaquietmoment.Andtherehehung,Father

Gomst,priesttotheHouseof

Ancrath.“Father,”Isaid,andI

sketchedhimabow.Intruththough,Iwasinnomoodforplay.Ihadmeahollowachebehindmyeyes.Thekindthatgetspeoplekilled.Helookedatmewide-

eyed,asifIwasabog-spiritcrawledoutofthemire.Iwenttothechainthat

heldhiscageup.“Braceyourself,Father.”

TheswordIdrewhadslitoldBovidTornottwenty-fourhoursbefore.NowIswungittofreeapriest.Thechaingavebeneathitsedge.They’dputsomemagic,orsomedevilry,inthatblade.FathertoldmetheAncrathswieldeditforfourgenerations,andtookitfromtheHouseofOr.SothesteelwasoldbeforeweAncrathsfirstlaidhandsuponit.Old

beforeIstoleit.Thebirdcagefelltothe

path,hardandheavy.FatherGomstcriedout,andhisheadhitthebars,leavingalividcross-workacrosshisforehead.They’dboundthecage-doorwithwire.Itgavebeforetheedgeofourancestralsword,twicestolen.IthoughtofFatherforamoment,imagedhisfacetwistinoutrageattheuseof

sohighabladeforsuchlowlywork.I’veagoodimagination,butputtinganyemotionontherockofFather’sfacecamehard.Gomstcrawledout,stiff

andweak.Astheoldshouldbe.Ilikedthathehadthegracetofeeltheyearsonhisshoulders.Sometheyearsjusttoughened.“FatherGomst,”Isaid.

“Besthurrynow,orthe

marshdeadmaycomeouttoscareuswiththeirwailinganda-moaning.”Helookedatmethen,

drawingbackasifhe’dseenaghost,thensoftening.“Jorg,”hesaid,allfullof

compassion.Brimmingwithit,spillingitfromhiseyesasifitwasn’tjusttherain.“Whathashappenedtoyou?”Iwon’tlietoyou.Halfof

mewantedtosticktheknife

intohimthereandthen,justaswithred-facedGemt.Morethanhalf.Myhanditchedwiththeneedtopullthatknife.Myheadachedwithit,asifaviceweretighteningagainstmytemples.I’vebeenknowntobe

contrary.Whensomethingpushesme,Ishoveback.Eveniftheonedoingthepushingisme.Itwouldhavebeeneasytoguthimthenand

there.Satisfying.Buttheneedwastoourgent.Ifeltpushed.Ismiledandsaid,“Forgive

me,Father,forIhavesinned.”AndoldGomsty,though

hewasstifffromthecage,andsoreineverylimb,bowedhisheadtohearmyconfession.Ispokeintotherain,low

andquiet.Loudenoughfor

FatherGomstthough,andloudenoughforthedeadwhohauntedthemarshaboutus.ItoldofthethingsI’ddone.ItoldofthethingsIwoulddo.InasoftvoiceItoldmyplanstoallwithearstohear.Thedeadleftusthen.“You’rethedevil!”Father

Gomsttookastepback,andclutchedthecrossathisneck.“Ifthat’swhatittakes.”I

didn’tdisputehim.“ButI’ve

confessed,andyoumustforgiveme.”“Abomination...”The

wordescapedhiminaslowbreath.“Andmorebesides,”I

agreed.“Nowforgiveme.”FatherGomstfoundhis

witsatlast,butstillheheldback.“Whatdoyouwantwithme,Lucifer?”Afairquestion.“Iwantto

win,”Isaid.

Heshookhisheadatthat,soIexplained.“SomemenIcanbindwith

whoIam.SomeIcanbindwithwhereI’mgoing.Othersneedtoknowwhowalkswithme.I’vegivenyoumyconfession.Irepent.NowGodwalkswithme,andyou’rethepriestwhowilltellthefaithfulthatIamHiswarrior,Hisinstrument,theSwordoftheAlmighty.”

Asilencestoodbetweenus,measuredinheartbeats.“Egoteabsolvo.”Father

Gomstgotthewordspasttremblinglips.Wewalkedbackalongthe

paththen,andreachedtheothersbyandby.Makinhadthemlinedupandready.Waitinginthedark,withasingletorch,andthehoodedlanternhunguponthehead-cart.

“CaptainBortha,”IsaidtoMakin,“timewesetoff.We’vegotawaysbeforeustillwereachtheHorseCoast.”“Andthepriest?”heasked.“Perhapswe’lldetourpast

theTallCastle,anddrophimoff.”Myheadachebit,hard.Maybeitwassomethingto

dowithhavinganoldghosthauntitswaythroughtothe

verymarrowofmybones,buttodaymyheadachesfeltmorelikesomebodyproddingmewithastick,herdingmealong,anditwasreallybeginningtofuckmeoff.“Ithinkwewillcallinat

theTallCastle.”Igroundmyteethtogetheragainstthedaggersinmyhead.“HandoldGomstyhereoverinperson.I’msuremyfatherhasbeenworriedaboutme.”

RikeandMaicalgavemestupidstares.FatBurlowandRedKentswappedglances.TheNubanrolledhiseyesandmadehiswards.IlookedatMakin,tall,

broadintheshoulder,blackhairplastereddownbytherain.He’smyknight,Ithought.Gomstismybishop,theTallCastlemyrook.ThenIthoughtofFather.Ineededaking.Youcan’tplaythe

gamewithoutaking.IthoughtofFather,anditfeltgood.Afterthedeadone,I’dbeguntowonder.Thedeadoneshowedmehishell,andIhadlaughedatit.ButnowIthoughtofFather,anditfeltgoodtoknowIcouldstillfeelfear.

7

WerodethroughthenightandtheLichwaybroughtusfromthemarsh.DawnfoundusatNorwood,drearandgrey.Thetownlayinruin.Itsashesstillheldtheacridghostofsmokethatlingerswhenthefireisgone.

“TheCountofRenar,”saidMakinatmyside.“HegrowsboldtoattackAncrathprotectoratessoopenly.”Heshedtheroadspeaklikeacloak.“Howcanweknowwho

wroughtsuchwickedness?”FatherGomstasked,hisfaceasgreyashisbeard.“PerhapsBaronKennick’smenraideddowntheLichway.ItwasKennick’smenwhocaged

meonthegibbet.”Thebrothersspreadout

amongtheruins.RikeelbowedFatBurlowaside,andvanishedintothefirstbuilding,whichwasnothingbutarooflessshellofstone.“Shit-poorbog-farmers!

JustlikefeckingMabberton.”Theviolenceofhissearchdrownedoutanyfurthercomplaint.IrememberedNorwoodon

feteday,hungwithribbons.Motherwalkedwiththeburgermeister.WilliamandIhadtreacle-apples.“Buttheseweremyshit-

poorbog-farmers,”Isaid.IturnedtolookatoldGomsty.“Therearenobodies.ThisisCountRenar’swork.”Makinnodded.“We’llfind

thepyreinthefieldstothewest.Renarburnsthemalltogether.Thelivingandthe

dead.”Gomstcrossedhimselfand

mutteredaprayer.Warisathingofbeauty,as

I’vesaidbefore,andthosewhosayotherwisearelosing.Iputasmileon,thoughitdidn’tfitme.“BrotherMakin,itseemstheCounthasmadeamove.Itbehovesus,asfellowsoldiers,toappreciatehisartistry.Haveyourselfaridearound.Iwant

toknowhowheplayedhisgame.”Renar.FirstFatherGomst,

nowRenar.Asthoughthespiritinthemirehadturnedakey,andtheghostsofmypastweremarchingthrough,onebyone.Makingaveanodand

canteredoff.Notintotownbutoutalongthestream,followingituptothethicketsbeyondthemarketfield.

“FatherGomst,”Isaidinmymostpolitecourt-voice.“Praytell,wherewereyouwhenBaronKennick’smenfoundyou?”Itmadenosensethatourfamilypriestshouldbetakenonaraid.“ThehamletofJessop,my

prince,”Gomstreplied,waryandlookinganywherebutatme.“Shouldwenotrideon?We’llbesafeinthehomelands.Theraidswon’t

reachpastHanton.”True,Ithought,sowhy

wouldyoucomeoutintodanger?“ThehamletofJessop?Can’tsayI’veevenheardofit,FatherGomst,”Isaid,stillniceasnice.“Whichmeansitwon’tbemuchmorethanthreehutsandapig.”Rikestormedoutofthe

house,blackerthantheNubanwithalltheashon

him,andspittingmad.Hemadeforthenextdoorway.“Burlow,youfatbastard!Yousetmeup!”IfLittleRikeycouldn’tfindhimselfsomeloot,thensomebodyelsewouldpay.Always.Gomstlookedgladofthe

diversion,butIdrewhisattentionback.“FatherGomst,youweretellingmeaboutJessop.”Itookthereinsfromhishands.

“Abog-town,myprince.Anothing.Aplacewheretheycutpeatfortheprotectorate.Seventeenhutsandperhapsafewmorepigs.”Hetriedalaugh,butitcameouttoosharpandnervy.“Soyoujourneyedthereto

offerabsolutiontothepoor?”Iheldhiseye.“Well...”“OutpastHanton,outto

theedgeofthemarsh,out

intodanger,”Isaid.“You’reaveryholyman,Father.”Hebowedhisheadatthat.Jessop.Thenameranga

bell.Abellwithadeepvoice,slowandsolemn.Sendnottoaskforwhomthebelltolls...“Jessopiswherethe

marsh-tidetakesthedead,”Isaid.IsawthewordsonthemouthofoldTutorLundistasIspokethem.Isawthemapbehindhim,pinnedtothe

studywall,currentsmarkedinblackink.“It’saslowcurrentbutsure.Themarshkeepshersecrets,butnotforever,andJessopiswhereshetellsthem.”“Thatbigman,Rike,he’s

stranglingthefatone.”FatherGomstnoddedtowardthetown.“Myfathersentyoutolook

atthedead.”Ididn’tletGomstdivertmewithsmall

talk.“Becauseyou’drecognizeme.”Gomst’smouthframeda

“no,”buteveryothermuscleinhimsaid“yes.”You’dthinkpriestswouldbebetterliars,whatwiththeirjobandall.“He’sstilllookingforme?

Afterfouryears!”Fourweekswouldhavesurprisedme.Gomstedgedbackinhis

saddle.Hespreadhishands

helplessly.“TheQueenisheavywithchild.SageoustellstheKingitwillbeaboy.Ihadtoconfirmthesuccession.”Ah!The“succession.”

ThatsoundedmorelikethefatherIknew.AndtheQueen?Nowthatputanedgeontheday.“Sageous?”Iasked.“Aheathenbone-picker,

newlycometocourt.”Gomst

spatthewordsasiftheytastedsour.Thepausegrewintoa

silence.“Rike!”Isaid.Notashout,

butloudenoughtoreachhim.“PutFatBurlowdown,orI’llhavetokillyou.”Rikeletgo,andBurlowhit

thegroundlikethethree-hundred-poundlumpoflardthathewas.Iguessthatofthetwo,Burlowlooked

slightlymorepurpleintheface,butonlyalittle.Rikecametowarduswithhishandsoutbeforehim,twistingasthoughhealreadyhadthemaroundmyneck.“You!”NosignofMakin,and

FatherGomstwouldbeasusefulasafartinthewindagainstLittleRikeywitharageonhim.“You!Where’sthefecking

goldyoupromisedus?”Ascoreofheadspoppedoutofwindowsanddoorsatthat.EvenFatBurlowlookedup,suckinginabreathasifitcamethroughastraw.Iletmyhandslipfromthe

pommelofmysword.Itdoesn’tdotosacrificetoomanypawns.Rikehadonlyadozenyardstogo.IswungoffGerrod’ssaddleandpattedhisnose,mybackto

thetown.“There’smorethanone

kindofgoldinNorwood,”Isaid.Loudenoughbutnottooloud.ThenIturnedandwalkedpastRike.Ididn’tlookathim.GiveamanlikeRikeamoment,andhe’lltakeit.“Don’tyoubetellingme

aboutnofarmers’daughtersthistime,youlittlebastard!”Hefollowedmeroaring,but

I’dlettheheatoutofhim.Hejusthadwindandnoisenow.“Thatfeckerofacountstakedthemallouttoburnalready.”ImadeforMidwayStreet,

leadinguptotheburgermeister’shousefromthemarketfield.Aswepassedhim,BrotherGainslookedupfromthecook-firehe’dstarted.Heclamberedtohisfeettofollowandwatchthefun.

Thegrain-storetowerhadneverlookedlikemuch.Itlookedlessimpressivenow,allscorched,thestonessplitintheheat.Beforetheyburnedthemallaway,thegrainsackswouldhavehiddenthetrapdoor.Ifounditwithalittleprodding.Rikehuffedandpuffedbehindmeallthetime.“Openitup.”Ipointedto

theringsetinthestoneslab.

Rikedidn’tneedtellingtwice.Hegotdownandheavedtheslabupasifitweighednothing.Andtheretheywere,barrelafterbarrel,allhuddledupinthedustydark.“Theoldburgermeister

keptthefestivalbeerunderthegrain-tower.Everylocalknowsthat.Alittlestreamrunsdowntheretokeepitallniceandcool-like.Looks

like,what,twenty?Twentybarrelsofgoldenfestivalbeer.”Ismiled.Rikedidn’tsmileback.He

stayedonhishandsandknees,andlethiseyewanderupthebladeofmysword.Iimaginedhowitmusttickleagainsthisthroat.“Seenow,Jorg,Brother

Jorg,Ididn’tmean...”hestarted.Evenwithmyswordathisneckhehadamean

looktohim.Makinclatteredupand

cametostandatmyshoulder.IkeptthebladeatRike’sthroat.“Imaybelittle,Little

Rikey,butIain’tabastard,”Isaid,soft,inmykillingvoice.“Isn’tthatright,FatherGomst?IfIwasabastard,youwouldn’thavetorisklifeandlimbtosearchthedeadforme,nowwouldyou?”

“PrinceJorg,letCaptainBorthakillthissavage.”Gomstmusthavefoundhiscomposuresomewhere.“We’llrideontotheTallCastleandyourfather—”“Myfathercandamnwell

wait!”Ishouted.Ibitbacktherest,angryatbeingangry.Rikeforgotaboutthe

swordforamoment.“Whatthefeckisallthis‘prince’shit?Whatthefeckisallthis

‘CaptainBortha’shit?AndwhendoIgettodrinkthefeckingbeer?”Wehadourselvesasfullan

audiencethenaswe’dget,allthebrothersaboutusinacircle.“Well,”Isaid.“Sinceyou

asksonice,BrotherRike,I’lltellyou.”Makinraisedhisbrowsat

meandhetookagriponhissword.Iwavedhimdown.

“TheCaptainBorthashitisMakinbeingCaptainMakinBorthaoftheAncrathImperialGuard.TheprinceshitismebeingthebelovedsonandheirofKingOlidanoftheHouseofAncrath.Andwecandrinkthebeernow,becausetodayismyfourteenthbirthday,andhowelsewouldyoutoastmyhealth?”

Everybrotherhoodhasapeckingorder.Withbrotherslikemineyoudon’twanttobeatthebottomofthatorder.You’reliabletogetpeckedtodeath.BrotherJobehadjusttherightmixofwhippedcurandrabiestostayalivethere.

8

Sowesatonthetumbledstonesoftheburgermeister’shouseanddrankbeer.Thebrothersdrankdeepandcalledoutmyname.Somehadit“BrotherJorg,”somehadit“PrinceJorg,”butallofthemsawmewithneweyes.

Rikewatchedme,beer-foaminhisstubbledbeard,thelineofmyswordacrosshisneck.Icouldseehimweighingtheodds,aslowballetofpossibilitiesworkingtheirwayacrosshislowforehead.Ididn’twaitfortheword“ransom”tobubbletothesurface.“Hewantsmedead,Little

Rikey,”Isaid.“HesentGomstyouttofindproofI

wasdead,nottofindme.He’sgotanewqueennow.”Rikegaveagrinthathad

morescowlthangrininit,thenbelchedmightily.“Youranfromacastlewithgoldandwomen,toridewithus?Whatidiotwoulddothat?”Isippedmybeer.Ittasted

sour,butthatseemedrightsomehow.“Anidiotwhoknowshewon’twinthewarwiththeKing’sguardathis

side,”Isaid.“Whatwar,Jorg?”The

Nubansatcloseby,notdrinking.Healwaysspokeslowandserious.“YouwanttobeattheCount?BaronKennick?”“TheWar,”Isaid.“Allof

it.”RedKentcameoverfrom

thebarrels,hishelmbrimmingwithale.“Neverhappen,”hesaid.Helifted

thehelmandhalf-draineditinfourswallows.“Soyou’rePrinceofAncrath?Acopper-crownkingdom.Mustbedozenswithasgoodaclaimonthehighthrone.Eachofthemwiththeirownarmy.”“Morelikefifty,”Rike

growled.“Closertoahundred,”I

said.“I’vecounted.”Ahundredfragmentsof

empiregrindingawayateach

otherinanever-endingcycleoflittlewars,feuds,skirmishes,kingdomswaxing,waning,waxingagain,lifetimesspentinconflictandnothingchanging.Minetochange,toend,towin.Ifinishedmybeerandgot

uptofindMakin.Ididn’thavetolookfar.I

foundhimwiththehorses,checkinghisstallion,

Firejump.“Whatdidyoufind?”I

askedhim.Makinpursedhislips.“I

foundthepyre.Abouttwohundred,alldead.Theydidn’tlightitthough—probablyscaredoff.”Hewavedtowardthewest.“Theycameinonfoot,upthemarshroad,andovertheridgeyonder.Hadabouttwentyarchersinthethicket

bythestream,topickofffolksthattriedtorun.”“Howmanymen

altogether?”Iasked.“Probablyahundred.Foot

soldiersmostofthem.”Heyawnedandranahandfromforeheadtochin.“Twodaysgonenow.We’resafeenough.”Ifeltinvisiblethorns

scratchingatme,sharphooksinmyskin.“Comewithme,”

Itoldhim.Makinfollowedmebackto

thestepsandfallenpillarsattheburgermeister’sdoors.ThebrothershadMaicalstavinginasecondbarrel.“Whatho,Captain!”

BurlowcalledoutatMakin,hisvoicestillhoarsefromRike’sstrangling.Alaughwentupatthat,andIletitrunitscourse.Ifeltthethornsagain,sharpanddeep.

Sharpeningmeupforsomething.Twohundredbodiesinaheap.Alldead.“Cap’nMakintellsme

we’regoingtohavecompany,”Isaid.Makin’sbrowsroseatthat

butIignoredhim.“Twentyswords,roughmen,banditsofthelowestorder.Notthesortyou’dliketomeet,”Itoldthem.“Idlingalonginourdirection,weigheddown

withloot.”Rikegottohisfeetall

suddenlike,hisflailrattlingathiship.“Loot?”“Slugs,Itellyou.Growing

richoffthedestructionofothers.”Ishowedthemmysmile.“Well,mybrothers,we’regoingtohavetoshowthemtheerroroftheirways.Iwantthemdead.Everylastone.Andwe’lldoitwithoutascratch.Iwanttrip-pitsinthe

mainstreet.Iwantbrothershiddeninthegrain-towerandtheBlueBoartavern.IwantKent,Row,Liar,andtheNubanhere,behindthesewalls,toshootthemdownwhentheycomebetweentowerandtavern.”TheNubanheftedhis

crossbow,amonstrousfeatofengineering,workedintheoldmetalandembellishedwiththefacesofstrange

gods.Kenttossedthedregsfromhishelmandsetitonhishead,readywithhislongbow.“Nowtheymightcome

overtheridgeinstead,soRike’sgoingtotakeMaicalandsixotherstohideinthetanneryruins.Anyonecomesthatway,letthempastyou,thengutthem.Makinwillbeourscouttogiveuswarning.Thegoodfatherhereandyou

fivethere,you’regoingtostandwithmetotemptthemin.”Thebrothersneededno

telling.Well,Jobedid,butRikehauledhimoutofthebeerquickenoughandhewasn’tgentleaboutit.“Loot!”Rikeshoutedthe

wordsinhisface.“Getdiggingtrip-pits,shit-brains.”Theyknewhowtosetup

anambushthoselads.No

mistakethere.Nooneknewbetterhowtofightintheruins.Halfthetimethey’dmaketheruinsthemselves,halfthetimethey’dfightinsomebodyelse’s.“Burlow,Makin,”Icalled

themtomeastheotherssetabouttheirtasks.“Idon’tneedyoutoscout,Makin,”Isaid,keepingmyvoicelow.“Iwantyoutwotogotothethicketbythestream.Iwant

youtohideyourselves.Hidesoabastardcouldsitonyouandstillnotknowyouwerethere.Youhidedownthereandwait.You’llknowwhattodo.”“Prince—BrotherJorg,”

Makinsaid.Hehadabigfrownon,andhiseyeskeptstrayingdownthestreettooldGomstyprayingbeforetheburned-outchurch.“What’sthisallabout?”

“Yousaidyou’dfollowwhereverIled,Makin,”Ianswered.“Thisiswhereitstarts.Whentheywritethelegend,thiswillbethefirstpage.Someoldmonkwillgoblindilluminatingthispage,Makin.Thisiswhereitallstarts.”Ididn’tsayhowshortthebookmightbethough.Makindidthatbowofhis

that’shalfanod,andoffhewent,FatBurlowhurrying

behind.So,thebrothersdugtheir

traps,laidouttheirarrows,andhidthemselvesinwhatlittleofNorwoodremained.Iwatchedthem,cursingtheirslowness,butholdingmypeace.AndbyandbyonlyFatherGomst,myfivepickedmen,andIremainedonshow.Alltherest,atouchovertwodozen,laylostintheruins.FatherGomstcametomy

side,stillpraying.Iwonderedhowhardhe’dprayifheknewwhatwasreallycoming.Ihadanacheinmyhead

now,likeahookinsertedbehindbotheyes,tuggingatme.ThesameachethatstartedupwhenthesightofoldGomstymademethinkofgoinghome.Afamiliarpain,oneI’dfeltatmanyaturnontheroad.OfttimesI’dletthat

painleadme.ButIfelttiredofbeingafishonaline.Ibitback.Isawthefirstscoutonthe

marshroadanhourlater.Otherscamesoonenough,ridinguptojoinhim.Imadesurethey’dseenthesevenofusstandingontheburgermeister’ssteps.“Company,”Isaid,and

pointedtheridersout.“Shitdarn!”BrotherElban

spatonhisboots.I’dchosenElbanbecausehedidn’tlooklikemuch,agrizzledoldstreakinhisrustychainmail.Hehadnohairandnoteeth,buthehadabiteonhim.“They’snobrigands,lookatthemponies.”Helispedthewordsabit,havingnoteethandall.“YouknowElban,you

mightberight,”Isaid,andIgavehimasmile.“I’dsay

theylookedmorelikehouse-troops.”“Lordhavemercy,”Iheard

oldGomstymurmurbehindme.Thescoutspulledback.

Elbanpickeduphisgearandstartedforthemarketfieldwherethehorsesstoodgrazing.“Youdon’twanttodothat,

oldman,”Isaid,softly.HeturnedandIcouldsee

thefearinhiseyes.“Youain’tgonnacutmedownisyou,Jorth?”Hecouldn’tsayJorgwithoutanyteeth;Isupposeit’sanameyou’vegottoputanedgeon.“Iwon’tcutyoudown,”I

said.IalmostlikedElban;Iwouldn’tkillhimwithoutagoodreason.“Whereyougoingtorunto,Elban?”Hepointedovertheridge.

“That’stheonlyclearway.

Getsnarledupelsewise,orworse,backinthemarsh.”“Youdon’twanttogoover

thatridge,Elban,”Isaid.“Trustme.”Andhedid.Thoughmaybe

hetrustedmebecausehedidn’ttrustme,ifyougetmymeaning.Westoodandwaited.We

sightedthemaincolumnonthemarshroadfirst,thenmomentslater,thesoldiers

showedovertheridge.Twodozenofthem,house-troops,carryingspearsandshields,andabovethemthecoloursofCountRenar.Themaincolumnhadmaybethreescoresoldiers,andfollowingonbehindinaraggedline,welloverahundredprisoners,yokednecktoneck.Halfadozencartsbroughtuptherear.Thecoveredoneswouldbe

loadedwithprovisions,theothersheldbodies,stackedlikecord-wood.“HouseRenardoesn’t

leavethedeadunburned.Theydon’ttakeprisoners,”Isaid.“Idon’tunderstand,”

FatherGomstsaid.He’dgonepastscared,intostupid.Ipointedtothetrees.

“Fuel.We’reontheedgeofaswamp.There’snotreesfor

milesinthispeatbog.Theywantagoodblaze,sothey’rebringingeveryonebackheretohaveanicebigbonfire.”Ihadanexplanationfor

Renar’sactionsbutastomyown,likeFatherGomst,Iwasn’tsureIunderstoodeither.WhateverstrengthIhadontheroad,itcametomethroughawillingnesstosacrifice.ItcameonthedayIsetasidemyvengeanceon

CountRenarasathingwithoutprofit.AndyethereIwas,intheruinsofNorwood,withathirstthatcouldn’tbequenchedbyanyamountoffestivalbeer.Waitingforthatself-samecount.Waitingwithtoofewmen,andwitheveryinstincttellingmetorun.Everyinstinct,exceptforthatonetoholdorbreak,butneverbend.Icouldseeindividual

figuresattheheadofthecolumnquiteclearlynow.Sixriders,chain-armoured,andaknightinheavyplate.Thedeviceonhisshieldcameintoviewasheturnedtosignalhiscommand.Ablackcrowonaredfield,afieldoffire.CountOssonRenarwouldn’tleadahundredmenintoanAncrathprotectorate,sothiswouldbeoneofhisboys.MarclosorJarco.

“Thebrotherswon’tfightthislot,”Elbansaid.Heputahandonmyshoulder-plate.“Wemightfightapathoutthroughthetreesifwegettothehorses,Jorth.”Alreadytwentyofthe

Renarmenhastenedtowardthetreeline,holdingtheirlongbowsbeforethemsotheywouldn’tsnag.“No.”Iletoutalongsigh.

“I’dbestsurrender.”

Iheldoutmyhand.“Whiteflagifyouplease.”Thehouse-troopshad

deployedbythetimeImademywaydowntowardthemaincolumn.My“flag”shouldproperlybedescribedasgrey.Anunwholesomegreyatthat,tornfromFatherGomst’shassock.“Nobleborn!”Ishouted.

“Noblebornunderflagoftruce!”

Thatsurprisedthem.Thehouse-troops,fannedoutbehindourhorses,letmecrossthemarketfieldunhindered.Theylookedtobeasorrylot,themetalscalesfallingfromtheirleathers,rustontheirswords.Homebodiestheywere,toolongontheroadandnothardenedtoit.“Theladwantstobefirst

onthefire,”oneofthemsaid.

Askinnybastardwithaboiloneachcheek.Hegotalaughwiththat.“Nobleborn!”Icalledout.

“Flago’truce.”Ididn’texpecttogetthisfarwithmysword.Icaughtthestinkofthe

columnandcouldheartheweeping.Theprisonersturnedblankeyesuponme.TwoofRenar’sriders

cameforwardtointerceptme.

“Where’dyoustealthearmour,boy?”“Gofuckyourself,”Isaid.

Ikeptitpleasant.“Who’veyougotleadingthisshowthen?Marclos?”Theyexchangedalookat

that.Awanderinghedge-knightprobablywouldn’tknowonesonoftheHouseRenarfromthenext.“Itdoesn’tdotokilla

nobleprisonerwithout

orders,”Isaid.“BestlettheCount-lingdecide.”Bothridersdismounted.

Tallmen,veteransbythelookofthem.Theytookmysword.Theolderone,darkbeardedwithawhitescarunderbotheyes,foundmyknife.Thecuthadtakenthetopofhisnosetoo.“You’reabitofanugly

messaren’tyou?”Iasked.Hefoundtheknifeinmy

bootaswell.Ihadnoplan.Thepainin

myheadhadn’tleftanyroomforone.I’dignoredthewordlessvoicethathadledmeforsolong.Ignoreditforthejoyofbeingstubborn.AndhereIwasunarmedamongsttoomanyfoes,stupidandalone.Iwonderedifmybrother

Williamwaswatchingme.Ihopedmymotherwasn’t.

IwonderedifIwasgoingtodie.Ifthey’dburnme,orleavemeasamaimedthingforFatherGomsttocartbacktotheTallCastle.“Everyonehasdoubts,”I

saidasScar-facefinishedhissearch.“EvenJesuhadhismoment,andIain’thim.”Themanlookedatmeasif

Iweremad.MaybeIwas,butI’dfoundmypeace.ThepainleftmeandIsawthingsclear

onceagain.Theyledmetowhere

Marclossatonhishorse,amonstrousstallion,twentyhandsifitwasone.Heliftedhisvisorthenandshowedapleasantface,abitfatinthecheeks,quitejollyreally.Looks,ofcourse,canbedeceiving.“Whothehellareyou?”he

asked.Hehadanicebitofplate

on,acidetchedwithasilverinlayandburnishedsoitshoneeveninthedreariestoflight.“Isaidwhothehellare

you?”Hegotsomeredinhischeeksthen.Notsojolly.“You’llsingonthefire,boy,soyoumayaswelltellmenow.”Ileanedforwardasifto

hearhim.ThebodyguardsreachedformebutIdidthe

oldshakeandtwist.Evenwithmeinarmourtheyweretooslow.IusedMarclos’sfootasastep,whereitstuckoutfromthestirrup,andgotupalongsidehiminnotimeatall.Hehadanicestilettoinasheathsethandyinthesaddle,soIhadthatoutandstuckitinhiseye.Thenwewereoff.Thepairofusgallopingoutacrossthemarketfield.Howtosteala

horseisthefirstthingyoulearnontheroad.Webouncedalong,with

himhowlingandshakingbehindme.Acoupleofthehouse-troopstriedtobarthewaybutIrodethemdown.Theyweren’tgoingtogetupagaineither;thatstallionwasfearsomebig.Thearchersmighthavetakenashotorthree,buttheycouldn’tmakesenseofitfromthatdistance,

andwewereheadedintotown.Icouldhearthebodyguard

thunderingalongbehind.Itsoundedasiftheyknockedafewmendownthemselves.Theycameclose,butwe’dtakenthembysurprise,meandMarclos,andgotastartonthem.AndaswereachedtheoutskirtsofNorwoodtheydrewupshort.AtthefirstbuildingI

wheeledsharply,andMarclosobligedbyfallingoff.Hehitthegroundfacefirst.Anotheronethatwouldn’tbegettingupagain.Itfeltgood,Iwon’tlieaboutthat.IimaginedtheCountgettingthenewsashebrokehisfast.Iwonderedhowhe’dlikethetasteofit.Wouldhefinishhiseggs?“MenofRenar!”Ishouted

ithardenoughtohurtmylungs.“Thistownstands

underthePrinceofAncrath’sprotection.Itwillnotbesurrendered.”Iturnedthehorseagain

androdeon.Afewarrowsclatteredbehindme.AtthestepsIdrewupanddismounted.“Youcameback...”

FatherGomstlookedconfused.“Idid,”Isaid.Iturnedto

faceElban.“Nofightinga

retreatnow,eh,brother?”“You’reinsane.”The

wordsescapedinawhisper.Forsomereasonhedidn’tlispwhenhewhispered.Theriders,Marclos’s

personalguard,ledthecharge.Nowthattheyhadfiftyfootsoldiersaroundthem,theyhadfoundtheircourage.Upontheridgethetwodozenhouse-troopstooktheircueandbegantorun

withtheslope.Thearchersstartedtoemergefromthethicketforbetteraim.“Thesebastardswillburn

youaliveiftheytakeyouthatway,”IsaidtothefivebrothersIhadwithme.ThenIpausedandIlookedthemintheeye,eachone.“Buttheydon’twanttodie.Theywon’twanttogobacktotheCounteitherway.Wouldyoutakeoldbonfire-Renarhisdead

sonback,andsmoothitoverwithan‘ohyes,butwekilledscavengers...therewasthisboy...andanoldmanwithnoteeth...’?“Somarkmenow.You

fightthesetamesoldiers,andyoushowthemhell.Showthemenoughofitandthebastards’llbreakandrun.”IpausedandcaughtBrotherRoddat’seye,forhewasaweaselandliketorun,sense

ornosense.“Youstickwithme,BrotherRoddat.”Ilookedtothethicket,over

theheadsofthemensurgingupfromthemarketfieldandsawanarcherfallamongthetrees.Thenanother.Anarmouredfigureemergedfromtheundergrowth.Thearchersinfrontofhimstillhadtheireyesontheadvance.Hetooktheheadfromthefirstonewithacleanswing.

Thankyou,Makin,Ithought.FatBurlowcameoutatarunthen,barrellinghisarmouredbulkintothebowmen.Thetroopsfromtheridge

passedbyRike’spositionandhisladssettoguttingthemfrombehind.NotthesortofoddsLittleRikeyfavoured,buttheword“loot”alwaysdidhaveanuncannyeffectonhim.ChooOm!TheNuban’s

crossbowshotitsload.Hecouldn’treallymisswithsomanytargets,butbyrightsheshouldn’tbeabletopickhismanwiththatthing.Evenso,bothboltshittheleadriderinthechestandliftedhimoutofhissaddle.Kentandtheothertworosefrombehindtheburgermeister’swalls.Theydidadouble-takewhentheysawwhatwascoming,butchoiceswereinshortsupply

andtheyhadplentyofarrows.TheRenartroopshitour

trip-pitsatfulltilt.IswearIheardthefirstanklesnap.Afterthatitwasallyellingasmanwentoverman.KentandLiarandRowtooktheopportunitytosendadozenmorearrowsintothemainmassoftheattack.TheNubanloadedhismonsteragainandthistimenearly

tooktheheadoffahorse.Theriderwentoverthetop,andthebeastfellontohim,brainsspillingontheground.Someofthosesoldierboys

didn’tliketheroadsomuchanymoreandtooktofindingawaythroughtheruins.Ofcoursetheyfoundmorethanaway,theyfoundthebrotherswhowerewaitingthere.Thearchersbrokefirst.

Thereisn’tmuchamaninapaddedtunic,withaknifeathiship,candoagainstadecentswordsmaninplatearmour.AndevenBurlowwasmorethandecent.Threeoftheridersreached

us.Wedidn’tstayonthestreettomeetthem.WefellbackintotheskeletonofwhatusedtobeDecker’sSmithy.Sotheyrodein,slowly,ashcrunchingunderhoof.Elban

leaptthefirstonefromanalcoveoverthefurnaces.Tookthatriderdownsweetassweethedid,hissharplittleknifehittinghomeoverandover.Ifyourecall,IsaidElbanhadabitetohim.Twobrotherspulledthe

secondriderdown,feintinginandoutuntiltheygotanopening.Hehadnoroomtomovehishorsearound.Shouldhavegotoff.

ThatleftmeandScar-face.Hehadabitmoretohim,andhaddismountedbeforehefollowedus.Hecameatmeslowandeasy,thetipofhisswordwavingbeforehim.Hewasn’tinahurry:there’snorushwhenthebestpartoffiftymenarehardonyourheels.“Flago’truce?”Isaid,

tryingtogoadhim.Hedidn’tspeak.Hislips

pressedtogetherinatightlineandhesteppedforward,realslow.That’swhenBrotherRoddatsteppedupbehindhimandstuckaswordthroughthebackofhisneck.“Shouldhavetakenyour

moment,Scar-face,”Isaid.Igotbackontothestreet

justintimetomeetsomehugered-facedbastardofahouse-trooperwho’drunhiswayupthehill.Hepretty

muchexplodedastheNuban’sboltshithim.Thentheywereonus.TheNubanpickeduphismattockandRedKentgrabbedhisaxe.Roddatcamepastmewithhisspearandfoundamantopinwithit.Theycameintwowaves.

Therewerethedozenorsowho’dkeptupwithMarclos’sbodyguardandthenbehindthem,anothertwentycoming

ataslowerpace.Therestlaystrewnalongthemainstreetordeadintheruins.IranpastRoddatandthe

manhe’dskewered.Pastacoupleofswordsmenwhodidn’twantmebadenough,andIwasthroughthefirstwave.Icouldseethatskinnybastardwiththeboilsonhischeeks,thereinthesecondwave,theonewho’djokedaboutmeonthefire.

Mechargingthesecondwave,howlingforBoil-cheeks’sblood.That’swhatbrokethem.Andthemenfromtheridge?Theyneverreachedus.LittleRikeythoughttheymightbecarryingloot.Ireckonmorethanhalfof

theCount’smenran.Buttheyweren’ttheCount’smenanymore.Theycouldn’tgoback.Makincameupthehill,

bloodalloverhim.HelookedlikeRedKentthedaywefoundhim!Burlowcamewithhim,buthestoppedtolootthedead,andofcoursethatinvolvesturningtheinjuredintothedead.“Why?”Makinwantedto

know.“Imean,superbvictory,myprince...butwhyinthenameofallthehellsrunsucharisk?”Iheldmyswordup.The

brothersaroundmetookastepback,buttohiscredit,Makindidn’tflinch.“Seethissword?”Isaid.“Notadropofbloodonit.”Ishoweditaround,thenwaveditattheridge.“Andouttherethere’sfiftymenwho’llneverfightfortheCountofRenaragain.Theyworkformenow.They’recarryingastoryaboutaprincewhokilledtheCount’sson.Aprincewho

wouldnotretreat.Aprincewhoneverretreats.Aprincewhodidn’thavetobloodhisswordtobeatahundredmenwiththirty.“Thinkaboutit,Makin.I

madeRoddatherefightlikeamadmanbecauseItoldhimiftheythinkyou’renotgoingtogiveup,they’llbreak.NowI’vegotfiftyenemieswho’reouttheretellingeveryonewho’lllisten,‘ThatPrinceof

Ancrath,he’snotgoingtobreak.’It’sasimplesum.Iftheythinkwewon’tbreak,theygiveup.”Alltrue.Itwasn’tthe

reason,butitwasalltrue.

9

Fouryearsearlier

Thebatonstruckmywristwithaloudcrack.Myotherhandcaughtholdasitrose.Itriedtotwistitfree,butLundistheldtight.Evenso,I

couldseehissurprise.“Iseeyouwerepaying

attentionafterall,PrinceJorg.”IntruthIhadbeen

somewhereelse,somewherebloody,butmybodyhasahabitofkeepingwatchformeatsuchtimes.“Perhapsyoucan

summarizemypointsthusfar?”hesaid.“Wearedefinedbyour

enemies.Thisholdstrueformen,andbyextension,theircountries,”Isaid.I’drecognizedthebookLundistbroughttothelesson.Thatourenemiesshapeuswasitscentralthesis.“Good.”Lundistpulledhis

batonfreeandpointedtothetablemap.“Gelleth,Renar,andtheKenMarshes.Ancrathisaproductofherenvirons;thesearethewolves

atherdoor.”“TheRenarhighlandsare

allIcareabout,”Isaid.“Therestcangohang.”Irockedmychairontothebacktwolegs.“WhenFatherorderstheGateagainstCountRenar,I’mgoingtoo.I’llkillhimmyselfiftheyletme.”Lundistshotmealook,a

sharpone,toseeifImeantit.There’ssomethingwrongaboutsuchblueeyesinanold

man,butwrongornothecouldseetotheheartwiththem.“Boysoftenarebetter

occupiedwithEuclidandPlato.Whenwevisitwar,SunTzuwillbeourguide.Strategyandtactics,theseareofthemind,thesearethetoolsofprinceandking.”Ididmeanit.Ihada

hungerinme,anachingfortheCount’sdeath.Thetight

linesaroundLundist’smouthtoldmethatheknewhowdeepthehungerran.Ilookedtothehigh

windowwheresunlightfingeredintotheschoolroomandturnedthedusttodancingmotesofgold.“Iwillkillhim,”Isaid.Then,withasuddenneedtoshock,“Maybewithapoker,likeIkilledthatapeInch.”Itgalledmetohavekilledamanand

havenomemoryofit,notevenatraceofwhateverragedrovemetoit.Iwantedsomenewtruth

fromLundist.Explainme,tome.Whateverthewords,thatwasmyquestion,youthtooldage.Buteventutorshavetheirlimits.Irockedforward,setmy

handsuponthemap,andlookedtoLundistoncemore.Isawthepityinhim.Apart

ofmewantedtotakeit,wantedtotellhimhowI’dstruggledagainstthosehooks,howI’dwatchedWilliamdie.Apartofmelongedtolayitalldown,thatweightIcarried,theacidpainofmemory,thecorrosionofhate.Lundistleanedacrossthe

table.Hishairfellaroundhisface,longinthefashionofOrient,sowhiteastobe

almostsilver.“Wearedefinedbyourenemies—butalsowecanchoosethem.Makeanenemyofhatred,Jorg.Dothatandyoucouldbeagreatman,butmoreimportantly,maybeahappyone.”There’ssomethingbrittle

inmethatwillbreakbeforeitbends.SomethingsharpthatputsanedgeonallthesoftwordsIonceowned.Idon’t

thinktheCountofRenarputittherethatdaytheykilledmymother,hejustdrewtherazorfromitssheath.Partofmelongedforasurrender,totakethegiftLundistheldbeforeme.Icutawaythatportionof

mysoul.Forgoodorill,itdiedthatday.“WhenwilltheGate

march?”IleftnothinginmyvoicetosayI’dheardhis

words.“TheArmyoftheGate

won’tmarch,”Lundistsaid.Hisshouldersheldaslump,tirednessordefeat.Thathitmeinthegut,a

surpriseshotpassingmyguard.Ijumpedup,topplingthechair.“Theywill!”Howcouldtheynot?Lundistturnedtowardthe

door.Hisrobesmadeadrysoundashemoved,likea

sigh.Disbeliefpinnedmetothespot,mylimbsstrangerstome.Icouldfeeltheheatrisinginmycheeks.“Howcouldtheynot?”Ishoutedathisback,angryforfeelinglikeachild.“Ancrathisdefinedbyher

enemies,”hesaid,walkingstill.“TheArmyoftheGatemustguardthehomeland,andnootherarmywouldreachtheCountinhishalls.”

“Aqueenhasdied.”Mother’sthroatopenedagainandcolouredmyvisionred.Thehooksburnedinmyfleshoncemore.“Aprinceoftherealm,slain.”Brokenlikeatoy.“Andthereisapriceto

pay.”Lundistpaused,onehandagainstthedoor,leaningasifforsupport.“Thepriceofbloodand

iron!”

“RightstotheCathunRiver,threethousandducats,andfiveArabystallions.”Lundistwouldn’tlookatme.“What?”“Rivertrade,gold,horses.”

Thoseblueeyesfoundmeoverhisshoulder.Anoldhandtookthedoor-ring.Thewordsmadesenseone

atatime,nottogether.“Thearmy...”Istarted.“Willnotmove.”Lundist

openedthedoor.Thedaystreamedin,bright,hot,lacedwiththedistantlaughterofsquiresatplay.“I’llgoalone.Thatman

willdiescreaming,bymyhand.”Coldfurycrawledacrossmyskin.Ineededasword,agood

knifeatleast.Ahorse,amap—Isnatchedtheonebeforeme,oldhide,musty,theborderstattooedinIndusink.

Ineeded...anexplanation.“How?Howcantheir

deathsbepurchased?”“Yourfatherforgedhis

alliancewiththeHorseCoastkingdomsthroughmarriage.ThestrengthofthatalliancethreatenedCountRenar.TheCountstruckearly,beforethelinksgrewtoostrong,hopingtoremoveboththewife,andtheheirs.”Lundiststeppedintothelight,andhishair

becamegolden,ahalointhebreeze.“Yourfatherhasn’tthestrengthtodestroyRenarandkeepthewolvesfromAncrath’sdoors.YourgrandfatherontheHorseCoastwillnotacceptthat,sotheallianceisdead,Renarissafe.NowRenarseeksatrucesohemayturnhisstrengthtootherborders.Yourfatherhassoldhimsuchatruce.”InsideIwasfalling,

pitching,tumbling.Fallingintoanendlessvoid.“Come,Prince.”Lundist

heldoutahand.“Let’swalkinthesunshine.It’snotadayfordesk-learning.”Ibunchedthemapinmy

fist,andsomewhereinmeIfoundasmile,sharp,bitter,butwithachilltoitthatheldmetomypurpose.“Ofcourse,deartutor.Letuswalkinthesun.It’snotaday

forwasting—ohno.”Andwewentoutintothe

day,andalltheheatofitcouldn’ttouchtheiceinme.

Knife-workisadirtybusiness,yetBrotherGrumlowisalwaysclean.

10

Wehadourselvesaprisoner.OneofMarclos’sridersprovedlessdeadthanexpected.Badnewsforhimallinall.MakinhadBurlowandRikebringthemantomeontheburgermeister’ssteps.“SayshisnameisRenton.

‘Sir’Renton,ifyouplease,”Makinsaid.Ilookedthefellowupand

down.Aniceblackbruisewrappeditselfhalfwayroundhisforehead,andanover-hastyembracewithMotherEarthhadlefthisnosesomewhatflatterthanhemighthaveliked.Hismoustacheandbeardcouldhavebeenneatlytrimmed,butcakedinallthatblood

theylookedamess.“Felloffyourhorsedid

you,Renton?”Iasked.“YoustabbedCount

Renar’ssonunderaflagoftruce,”hesaid.Hesoundedalittlecomicalonthe“stabbed”and“son.”Abrokennosewilldothatforyou.“Idid,”Isaid.“Ican’t

thinkofanythingIwouldn’thavestabbedhimunder.”I

heldRenton’sgaze;hehadsquintylittleeyes.Hewouldn’thavebeenmuchtolookatincourtfinery.Onthesteps,coveredinmudandblood,helookedlikearat’sleavings.“IfIwereyou,I’dbemoreworriedaboutmyownfatethanwhetherMarcloswasstabbedinaccordancewiththerightsocialniceties.”Thatofcoursewasalie.If

Iwereinhisplace,I’dhavebeenlookingforanopportunitytostickaknifeinme.ButIknewenoughtoknowthatmostmendidn’tsharemypriorities.AsMakinsaid,somethinginmehadgotbroken,butnotsobrokenIdidn’trememberwhatitwas.“Myfamilyisrich,they’ll

ransomme,”Rentonsaid.Hespokequickly,nervousnow,asifhe’djustrealizedhis

situation.Iyawned.“No,they’renot.

Iftheywererich,youwouldn’tberidinginchainarmourasoneofMarclos’sguards.”Iyawnedagain,stretchingmymouthuntilmyjawcracked.“Maical,getmeacupofthatfestivalbeer,willyou?”“Maical’sdead,”Rikesaid,

frombehindSirRenton.“Never?”Isaid.“Idiot

Maical?IthoughtGodhadblessedhimwiththesameluckthatlooksafterdrunkardsandmadmen.”“Well,he’snearenough

dead,”Rikesaid.“Gothimagut-fullofrustyironfromoneofRenar’sboys.Welaidhimoutintheshade.”“Touching,”Isaid.“Now

getmybeer.”Rikegrumbledandslapped

Jobeintotakingtheerrand.I

turnedbacktoSirRenton.Hedidn’tlookhappy,buthedidn’tlookassadasyoumightexpectamaninsuchabadplacetolook.HiseyeskeptslidingovertoFatherGomst.Here’samanwithfaithinahighersource,Ithought.“So,SirRenton,”Isaid.

“WhatbringsyoungMarclostoAncrath’sprotectorates?WhatdoestheCountthink

he’supto?”Someofthebrothershad

gatheredaroundthestepsfortheshow,butmostwerestilllootingthedead.Aman’scoinisniceandportable,butthebrotherswouldn’tstopthere.Iexpectedthehead-carttobeheapedwitharmsandarmourwhenweleft.Bootstoo;there’sthreecoppersinawell-madepairofboots.Rentoncoughedandwiped

athisnose,spreadingblackgoreacrosshisface.“Idon’tknowtheCount’splans.I’mnotprivytohisprivatecouncil.”HelookedupatFatherGomst.“AsGodismywitness.”Ileanedinclosetohim.He

smelledsour,likecheeseinthesun.“Godisyourwitness,Renton,he’sgoingtowatchyoudie.”Iletthatsinkin.Igaveold

Gomstyasmile.“Youcanlookafterthisknight’ssoul,Father.Thesinsofthefleshthough—they’reallmine.”Rikehandedmemycupof

beer,andIhadasip.“Thedayyou’retiredoflooting,LittleRikey,isthedayyou’retiredoflife,”Isaid.Itgotachucklefromthebrothersonthesteps.“Why’reyoustillherewhenyoucouldbecuttingupthedeadinsearch

ofagoldenliver?”“Cometoseeyouputthe

hurtonRat-face,”Rikesaid.“You’regoingtobe

disappointedthen,”Isaid.“SirRat-faceisgoingtotellmeeverythingIwanttoknow,andI’mnotevengoingtohavetoraisemyvoice.WhenI’mdone,I’mgoingtohandhimovertothenewburgermeisterofNorwood.Thepeasantswillprobably

burnhimalive,andhe’llcountittheeasywayout.”Ikeptitconversational.Ifindit’sthecoldestthreatsthatreachthedeepest.OutinthemarshesI’d

madeadeadmanruninterror,withnothingmorethanwhatIkeepinside.Itoccurredtomethatwhatscaredthedeadmightworrythelivingapiecetoo.SirRentondidn’tsound

tooscaredyetthough.“Youstabbedthebettermantoday,boy,andthere’sabettermanbeforeyou.You’renothingmorethanshitonmyshoe.”I’dhurthispride.Hewasaknightafterall,andherewasabeardlessladmakingmock.Besides,thebestI’dofferedwasan“easy”burning.Nobodyconsidersthatthesoftoption.“WhenIwasnine,the

CountofRenartriedtohavemekilled,”Isaid.Ikeptmyvoicecalm.Itwasn’thard.Iwascalm.Angercarrieslesshorrorwithit,menunderstandanger.Itpromisesresolution;maybebloodyresolution,butswift.“TheCountfailed,butIwatchedmymotherandmylittlebrotherkilled.”“Allmendie,”Renton

said.Hespatadarkand

bloodymessontothesteps.“Whatmakesyousospecial?”Hehadagoodpoint.What

mademyloss,mypain,anymoreimportantthaneveryoneelse’s?“That’sagoodquestion,”I

said.“Adamngoodquestion.”Itwas.Thereweren’tbuta

handfuloftheprisonerswe’dtakenfromMarclos’strain

whohadn’tseenasonorahusband,amotheroralover,killed.Andkilledinthepastweek.Andthiswasmysoftoption,themerciesofthesepeasantscomparedtotheattentionofayoungmanwhosehurtstoodfouryearsold.“Considermea

spokesman,”Isaid.“Whenitcomestostageacting,somemenaremoreeloquentthan

others.It’sgiventoparticularmentohaveagiftwiththebow.”InoddedtotheNuban.“Somemencanknocktheeyeoutofabullatathousandpaces.Theydon’taimanybetterforwantingit,theydon’tshootstraighterbecausethey’rejustified.Theyjustshootstraighter.Nowme,Ijust...avengemyselfbetterthanmost.Consideritagift.”Rentonlaughedatthatand

spatagain.ThistimeIsawpartofatoothinthemess.“Youthinkyou’reworsethanthefire,boy?”heasked.“I’veseenmenburn.Alotofmen.”Hehadapoint.“You’vea

lotofgoodpoints,SirRenton,”Isaid.Ilookedaroundatthe

ruins.Tumbledwallsinthemost,andblackenedtimberskeletonswhereroofshad

keptalidonfolk’slivesforyearafteryear.“It’sgoingtotakealotofrebuilding,”Isaid.“Alotofhammersandalotofnails.”Isippedmybeer.“Astrangething—nailswillholdabuildingtogether,butthere’snothingbetterfortakingamanapart.”IheldSirRenton’srat-likeeyes,darkandbeady.“Idon’tenjoytorturingpeople,SirRenton,butI’mgoodatit.Notworld-

classyouunderstand.Cowardsmakethebesttorturers.Cowardsunderstandfearandtheycanuseit.Heroesontheotherhand,theymaketerribletorturers.Theydon’tseewhatmotivatesanormalman.Theymisunderstandeverything.Theycan’tthinkofanythingworsethanbesmirchingyourhonour.Acowardontheotherhand;

he’lltieyoutoachairandlightaslowfireunderyou.I’mnotaherooracoward,butIworkwithwhatI’vegot.”Rentonhadthesenseto

paleatthat.HereachedoutamuddyhandtoFatherGomst.“Father,I’vedonenothingbutservemymaster.”“FatherGomstwillpray

foryoursoul,”Isaid.“AndforgivemethesinsIincurin

detachingitfromyourbody.”Makinpursedthosethick

lipsofhis.“Prince,you’vespokenabouthowyou’dbreakthecycleofrevenge.Youcouldstarthere.YoucouldletSirRentongo.”Rikegavehimalookasif

he’dgonemad.FatBurlowcoveredachuckle.“Ihavespokenaboutthat,

Makin,”Isaid.“Iwillbreakthecycle.”Idrewmysword

andlaiditacrossmyknees.“Youknowhowtobreakthecycleofhatred?”Iasked.“Love,”saidGomst,all

quiet-like.“Thewaytobreakthe

cycleistokilleverysingleoneofthebastardsthatfuckedyouover,”Isaid.“Everylastoneofthem.Killthemall.Killtheirmothers,killtheirbrothers,killtheirchildren,killtheirdog.”Iran

mythumbalongthebladeofmyswordandwatchedthebloodbeadcrimsononthewound.“PeoplethinkIhatetheCount,butintruthI’magreatadvocateofhismethods.Hehasonlytwofailings.Firstly,hegoesfar,butnotfarenough.Secondly,heisn’tme.Hetaughtmevaluablelessonsthough.Andwhenwemeet,Iwillthankhimforit,withaquick

death.”OldGomstystartedatthat.

“CountRenardidyouwrong,PrinceJorg.Forgivehim,butdon’tthankhim.He’llburninHellforwhathedid.Hisimmortalsoulwillsufferforeternity.”Ihadtolaughoutloudat

that.“Churchmen,eh?Loveoneminute,forgivenessthenext,andthenit’seternityonfire.Well,restatease,Sir

Renton.I’venodesignsonyourimmortalsoul.Whateverhappensbetweenus,itwillallbeoverinadayortwo.Threeatmost.I’mnotthemostpatientofmen,soitwillendwhenyoutellmewhatIwanttoknow,orIgetbored.”Igotupfrommystepand

wenttocrouchbySirRenton.Ipattedhishead.They’dtiedhishandsbehindhim,andIhadmychainmailgauntlets

on,soifhehadamindtobite,it’ddohimnogood.“IsworetoCountRenar,”

hesaid.Hetriedtopullaway,andhecranedhisnecktolookatoldGomsty.“Tellhim,Father,IsworebeforeGod.IfIbreakmyvow,I’llburninHell.”Gomstcametolayhis

handonRenton’sshoulder.“PrinceJorg,thisknighthasmadeaholyvow.Thereare

fewoathsmoresacredthanthatofaknighttohisliegelord.Youshouldnotaskhimtobreakit.NorshouldanythreatagainstthefleshcompelamantobetrayacovenantandforeverplacehissoulinthefiresoftheDevil.”“Here’satestoffaithfor

you,SirRenton,”Isaid.“I’lltellyoumytaleandwe’llseewhetheryouwanttotellme

theCount’splanswhenI’mdone.”Isettleddownonthestepbesidehimandswiggedmybeer.“WhenIfirsttooktotheroadIwas,oh,tenyearsofage.I’dalotofangerinmethen,andaneedtoknowhowtheworldworked.Yousee,I’dwatchedtheCount’smenkillmybrother,William,andslitMotheropen.SoIknewthatthewayI’dthoughtthingsweresupposedtowork

waswrong.Andofcourse,Ifellinwithbadsorts—didn’tI,Rikey?”Rikegavethatlaughofhis:

“hur,hur,hur.”Ithinkhejustmadethesoundwhenhethoughtweexpectedalaugh.Itdidn’thaveanyjoyinit.“Itriedmyhandattorture

then.IwonderedifIwassupposedtobeevil.IthoughtmaybeI’dhadamessagefromGodtotakeupthe

Devil’swork.”IheardGomstmutteringat

thatone,prayersorcondemnation.Itwastruetoo.ForthelongesttimeIlookedforamessageinitall,toworkoutwhatIwassupposedtobedoing.IlaidmyhandonRenton’s

shoulder.Hesattherewithmyhandonhisleftshoulder,andGomst’shandonhisright.Wecouldhavebeenthe

Devilandtheangelfromthoseoldscrolls,whisperinginhisears.“WecaughtBishop

MurillodownbyJedmireHill,”Isaid.“I’msureyouheardaboutthelossofhismission?Anyhow,thebrothersletmehavethebishop.Iwassomethingofamascottothembackthen.”TheNubanstoodand

walkedoffdownthehill.Ilet

himgo.TheNubandidn’thavethestomachforthiskindofthing.Thatmademefeel—Idon’tknow—dirty?IlikedtheNuban,thoughIdidn’tletitshow.“Now,BishopMurillowas

fullofharshwordsandjudgement.Hehadplentytotellmeabouthellfireanddamnation.Wesatawhileanddiscussedthebusinessofsouls.ThenIhammereda

nailintohisskull.Justhere.”IreachedoutandtouchedthespotonRenton’sgreasyhead.Heflinchedbacklikehe’dbeenstung.“Thebishopchangedhistuneabitafterthat,”Isaid.“InfacteverytimeIknockedanewnailintohim,hechangedhistune.Afterawhilehewasaverydifferentman.Didyouknowyoucanbreakamanintohispartslikethat?Onenailwill

bringbackmemoriesofchildhood.Anotherwillmakehimrage,orsob,orlaugh.Intheenditseemswe’rejusttoys,easytobreakandhardtomend.“Ihearthatthenunsat

SaintAlstisstillhaveBishopMurillointheircare.He’saverydifferentpersonnow.Heclutchesattheirhabitsandslursawfulthingsatthem,sotheysay.Wherethesoulof

thatproudandpiousmanwetookfromthepapalcaravanis—well,Ican’ttellyou.”Withthat,I“magicked”a

nailintomyfingers.Arustyspike,threeincheslong.Themanwethimself.Thereonthesteps.Burlowgaveanoathandkickedhim,hard.WhenRentongothisbreathback,hetoldmeeverythingheknew.Ittookalmostanhour.Thenwegavehimto

thepeasantsandtheyburnedhim.Iwatchedthegoodfolkof

Norwooddancearoundtheirfire.Iwatchedtheflameslickabovetheirheads.There’sapatterninfire,asifsomething’swrittenthere,andthere’sfolkwhosaytheycanreadittoo.Notme,though.Itwouldhavebeennicetofindsomeanswersintheflames.Ihadquestions:it

wasathirstfortheCount’sbloodthathadsetmeontheroad.ButsomehowI’dgivenitup.SomehowIsetitasideandtoldmyselfitwasasacrificetostrength.Isippedmybeer.Four

yearsontheroad.Alwaysgoingsomewhere,alwaysdoingsomething,butnow,withmyfeetpointedtowardhome,itfeltlikeI’dbeenlostallthattime.Lostorled.

ItriedtorememberwhenI’dgivenupontheCount,andwhy.Nothingcametome,justtheglimpseofmyhandonadoor,andthesensationoffallingintospace.“I’mgoinghome,”Isaid.Thedullachebetweenmy

eyesbecamearustynail,drivendeep.Ifinishedmybeer,butitdidnothingforme.Ihadanolderkindof

thirst.

11

Fouryearsearlier

IfollowedLundistoutintotheday.“Wait.”Heheldhisbaton

tomychest.“Itneverpaystowalkblind.Especiallynotin

yourowncastlewherefamiliarityhidessomuch—evenwhenwehavetheeyestosee.”Westoodforamomenton

thesteps,blinkingawaythesunlight,lettingtheheatsoakin.Releasefromthegloomoftheschoolroomheldnogreatsurprise.FourdaysinsevenmystudieskeptmeatLundist’sside,sometimesintheschoolroom,the

observatory,orlibrary,butasoftenasnotthehourswouldpassinahuntforwonders.WhetheritwasthemechanicsofthesiegemachineryheldintheArnheimHall,orthemysteryoftheBuilder-lightthatshonewithoutflameinthesaltcellar,everypartoftheTallCastleheldalessonthatLundistcouldteaseout.“Listen,”hesaid.Iknewthisgame.Lundist

heldthatamanwhocanobserveisamanapart.Suchamancanseeopportunitieswhereothersseeonlytheobstaclesonthesurfaceofeachsituation.“Ihearwoodonwood.

Trainingswords.Thesquiresatplay,”Isaid.“Somemightnotcallit

play.Deeper!Whatelse?”“Ihearbirdsong.

Skylarks.”Thereitwas,a

silverchainofsound,droppedfromonhigh,sosweetandlightI’dmisseditatfirst.“Deeper.”Iclosedmyeyes.What

else?Greenfoughtredonthebackofmyeyelids.Theclackofswords,thegrunts,panting,mutedscuffleofshoeonstone,thesongofskylarks.Whatelse?“Fluttering.”Ontheedge

ofhearing—Iwasprobablyimaginingit.“Good,”Lundistsaid.

“Whatisit?”“Notwings.It’sdeeper

thanthat.Somethinginthewind,”Isaid.“There’snowindinthe

courtyard,”Lundistsaid.“Uphighthen.”Ihadit.

“Aflag!”“Whichflag?Don’tlook.

Justtellme.”Lundistpressed

thebatonharder.“Notthefestivalflag.Not

theKing’sflag,that’sflownfromthenorthwall.Notthecolours,we’renotatwar.”No,notthecolours.AnycuriosityinmediedatthatreminderofCountRenar’spurchase.Iwondered,ifthey’dslainmealso,wouldthepriceofapardonhavebeenhigher?Anextrahorse?“Well?”Lundistasked.

“Theexecutionflag,blackonscarlet,”Isaid.It’salwaysbeenthatway

withme.AnswerscomewhenIstoptryingtothinkitthroughandjustspeak.ThebestplanI’llcomeupwithistheonethathappenswhenIact.“Good.”Iopenedmyeyes.The

lightnolongerpainedme.Highabovethecourtyardthe

executionflagstreamedinawesterlybreeze.“Yourfatherhasordered

thedungeonscleared,”Lundistsaid.“TherewillbequiteacrowdcomeSaintCrispin’sDay.”Iknewthattobe

understatement.“Hangings,beheadings,impalement,ohmy!”IwonderedifLundist

wouldseektoshieldmefrom

theproceedings.Thecornerofmymouthtwitched,hookedonthenotionthathemightimagineI’dnotseenworsealready.Forthemassexecutionsofthepreviousyear,MotherhadtakenustovisitLordNossarathisestatesinElm.WilliamandIhadthefortofElmalmosttoourselves.LaterIlearnedthatmostofAncrathhadconvergedontheTallCastle

towatchthesport.“Terrorandentertainment

areweaponsofstatehood,Jorg.”Lundistkepthistoneneutral,hisfaceinscrutablesaveforatightnessinthelipssuggestingthatthewordscarriedabadtaste.“Executioncombinesbothelements.”Hegazedattheflag.“BeforeIjourneyedandfellslavetoyourmother’speople,IdweltinLing.Inthe

UtterEastpainisanartform.Rulersmaketheirreputations,andthatoftheirland,onextravagancesoftorture.Theycompeteatit.”Wewatchedthesquires

spar.Atallknightgaveinstruction,sometimeswithhisfist.ForseveralminutesIsaid

nothing.IimaginedCountRenaratthemercyofaLingtorture-master.

No—Iwantedhisbloodandhisdeath.Iwantedhimtodieknowingwhyhedied,knowingwhoheldthesword.Buthispain?LethimdohisburninginHell.“Remindmenottogoto

Ling,Tutor,”Isaid.Lundistsmiled,andledoff

acrossthecourtyard.“It’snotonyourfather’smaps.”Wepassedclosebythe

duellingsquare,andI

recognizedtheknightbyhisarmour,adazzlingsetoffieldplatewithsilverinlaidintoacid-etchedscrollworkacrossthebreastplate.“SirMakinofTrent,”I

said.Iturnedtofacehim.LundistwalkedonforafewpacesbeforerealizingI’dlefthisside.“PrinceHonorous.”Sir

Makinofferedmeacurtbow.“Keepthatguardup,

Cheeves!”Abarkedinstructiontooneoftheolderboys.“CallmeJorg,”Isaid.“I

hearmyfatherhasmadeyouCaptainoftheGuard.”“Hefoundfaultwithmy

predecessor,”SirMakinsaid.“IhopetofulfilmydutiesmoretotheKing’spleasing.”I’dnotseenSirGrehem

sincetheattackonourcoach.Isuspectedthattheincident

costtheformerCaptainoftheGuardrathermorethanitcostCountRenar.“Letushopeso,”Isaid.Makinranahandthrough

hishair,darkandbeadedwithsweatfromtheheatoftheday.Hehadaslightlyfleshyface,expressive,butyouwouldn’tmistakehimforsomeonewithoutmettle.“Won’tyoujoinus,Prince

Jorg?Agoodrightfeintwill

serveyoubetterintimesoftroublethananyamountofbooklearning.”Hegrinned.“Ifyourwoundsarerecoveredsufficiently,ofcourse.”Lundistsettledahandon

myshoulder.“ThePrinceisstilltroubledbyhisinjuries.”Hefixedthosetoo-blueeyesofhisonSirMakin.“YoumightconsiderreadingProximus’sthesisonthe

defenceofroyals.IfyouwishtoavoidSirGrehem’sfate,thatis.It’sinthelibrary.”Hemovedtosteermeaway.Iresistedonnothingmorethanprinciple.“IthinkthePrinceknows

hisownmind,Tutor.”SirMakinflashedLundistabroadsmile.“YourProximuscankeephisadvice.Aknighttrustsinhisownjudgement,andtheweightofhissword.”

SirMakintookawoodenswordfromthecartonhisleft,andofferedittome,hiltfirst.“Come,myprince.Let’sseewhatyou’vegot.CaretosparagainstyoungStodhere?”Hepointedoutthesmallestofthesquires,aslightladmaybeayearmysenior.“Him.”Ipointedtothe

biggestofthem,ahulkingloutoffifteenwithashockof

gingerhair.Itookthesword.SirMakinraisedan

eyebrow,andgrinnedallthewider.“Robart?You’llfightRobart,willyounow?”Hestrodetotheboy’sside

andclappedahandtothebackofhisneck.“ThishereisRobartHool,thirdsonoftheHouseofArn.Ofallthissorrylot,he’stheonewhomighthaveachancetoearnhisspursoneday.Got

himselfawaywiththebladehasourMasterHool.”Heshookhishead.“TryStod.”“Trynoneofthem,Prince

Jorg.”Lundistkepttheirritationfromhisvoice,almost.“Thisisfoolishness.Youarenotyetrecovered.”Heshotalookatthegrinningguardcaptain.“KingOlidanwillnottakekindlytoarelapseinhisonlyheir.”SirMakinfrownedatthat,

butIcouldseeithadgonetoofarforhispridetolethimtakeinstruction.“Goeasyonhim,Robart.Reallyeasy.”“Ifthisgingeroafdoesn’t

dohislevelbest,I’llmakesuretheclosesthegetstobeingaknightisclearingthehorsedungafterthejoust,”Isaid.Iadvancedonthesquire,

myheadcranedtolookhimintheface.SirMakinstepped

betweenus,atrainingswordinhislefthand.“Aquicktestfirst,myprince.I’vegottoknowyou’veenoughofthebasicsnottogetyourselfhurt.”Thepointofhisblade

clackedagainstmine,andslippedaway,angledformyface.Islappeditaside,andmadeahalf-lunge.Theknighttamedmythrusteasilyenough;Itriedtoslidetohis

guardbuthecuttomylegsandIbarelyheldhim.“Notbad.Notbad.”He

inclinedhishead.“You’vehaddecentinstruction.”Hepursedhislips.“You’rewhat,twelve?”“Ten.”Iwatchedhim

returnthetrainertothecart.Hewasright-handed.“Allright.”SirMakin

motionedthesquiresintoacirclearoundus.“Let’shave

usaduel.Robart,showthePrincenomercies.He’sgoodenoughtolosewithoutseriousinjurytoanythingbuthispride.”Robartsquareduptome,

allfrecklesandconfidence.Themomentseemedtocomeintofocus.Ifeltthesunonmyskin,thegritbetweenthesolesofmyshoesandtheflagstones.SirMakinheldhishand

up.“Waitforit.”Iheardthesilvervoicesof

theskylarks,invisibleagainstthebluevaultsaboveus.Iheardtheflappingoftheexecutionflag.“Fight!”Thehand

dropped.Robartcameinfast,

swinginglow.Iletmyswordfalltotheground.Hisblowcaughtmeontherightside,justbelowtheribs.I’dhave

beencutintwo...ifithadn’tbeenmadeofwood.Butitwas.Ihithiminthethroat,withtheedgeofmyhand,aneasternmovethatLundisthadshowedme.Robartwentdownasifawallhaddroppedonhim.Iwatchedhimwrithe,and

foraninstantIsawInchintheHealingHallonhishandsandkneeswiththefireallaroundusandtheblood

pulsingfromhisback.Ifeltthepoisoninmyveins,thehooksinmyflesh,thesimpleneedtokill—aspureanemotionasIhaveeverknown.“No.”IfoundLundist’s

handonmywrist,stoppingmeasIreachedfortheboy.“It’senough.”It’sneverenough.Words

inmyhead,spokenbyavoicenotmyown,avoice

rememberedfromthebriarandthefever-bed.Forseveralmomentswe

watchedtheladchokeonthefloor,andturncrimson.Thestrangenessleftme.I

pickedupmyswordandreturnedittoSirMakin.“Actually,Proximusis

yours,Captain,notLundist’s,”Isaid.“ProximuswasaBorthanscholar,seventhcentury.Oneofyour

ancestors.Perhapsyoushouldreadhimafterall.I’dhatetohavenothingbutRobarthere,andhisjudgement,betweenmeandmyenemies.”“But...”SirMakin

chewedhislip.Heseemedtohaverunoutofobjectionsafter“but.”“Hecheated.”YoungStod

foundthewordsforallofthem.Lundisthadalreadystarted

walking.Iturnedtofollowhim,thenlookedback.“It’snotagame,Sir

Makin.Youteachtheseboystoplaybytherules,andthey’regoingtolose.It’snotagame.”Andwhenwemakea

mistake,wecan’tbuyourwayoutofit.Notwithhorses,notwithgold.WereachedtheRedGate

onthefarsideofthe

courtyard.“Thatboycoulddie,”

Lundistsaid.“Iknow,”Isaid.“Takeme

toseetheseprisonersthatFather’stohavekilled.”

12

Fouryearsearlier

MoreoftheTallCastleliesbelowthegroundthanabove.ItshouldbecalledtheDeepCastle,really.Ittookusawhiletoreachthedungeons.

Weheardtheshrieksfromalevelup,throughwallsofBuilder-stone.“Thisvisitis,perhaps,a

badidea,”Lundistsaid,pausingbeforeanirondoor.“It’smyidea,Tutor,”I

said.“Ithoughtyouwantedmetolearnbymymistakes?”Anotherscreamreached

us,gutturalwithahoarseedgetoit,ananimalsound.“Yourfatherwouldn’t

approveofthisvisit,”Lundistsaid.Hepressedhislipsinatightline,troubled.“That’sthefirsttime

you’vecalledonFather’swisdomtoresolveanissue.Shameonyou,TutorLundist.”Nothingwouldturnmebacknow.“Therearethingsthat

children—”“Toolate,thathorse

alreadybolted.Stable

burned.”Ibrushedpasthimandrappedonthedoorwiththehiltofmydagger.“Openup.”Arattleofkeys,andthe

doorslidinwardonoiledhinges.Thewaveofstenchthathitmenearlytookmybreath.Awartyoldfellowinwarder’sleathersleanedintoviewandopenedhismouthtospeak.“Don’t,”Isaid,holdingthe

businessendofmydaggertowardhistongue.Iwalkedon,Lundistatmy

heels.“Youalwaystoldmeto

lookandmakemyownjudgement,Lundist,”Isaid.Irespectedhimforthat.“Notimetogetsqueamish.”“Jorg...”Hewastorn,I

couldhearitinhisvoice,wrackedbetweenemotionsIcouldn’tunderstand,and

logicthatIcould.“Prince—”Thecryrangoutagain,

muchloudernow.I’dheardthesoundbefore.Itpushedatme,tryingtoforcemeaway.ThefirsttimeIheardthatkindofpain,mymother’spain,somethingheldmeback.I’lltellyouitwasthehook-briarwhichheldmefast.I’llshowyouthescars.Butinthenight,beforethedreamscome,avoice

whisperstomethatitwasfearthatheldmeback,terrorthatrootedmeinthebriar,safewhileIwatchedthemdie.Anotherscream,more

terribleandmoredesperatethananybefore.Ifeltthehooksinmyflesh.“Jorg!”IshookLundist’shands

fromme,andrantowardthesound.

Ididn’thavefartorun.Ipulledupshortattheentrancetoawideroom,torch-lit,withcelldoorsliningthreesides.Atthecentre,twomenstoodonoppositesidesofatable,towhichathirdmanhadbeensecuredwithchains.Thelargerofthetwowardersheldanironpoker,oneendinabasketofglowingcoals.Noneofthethreenotedmy

arrival,nordidanyofthe

facespressedtothebarredwindowsinthecelldoorsturnmyway.Iwalkedin.IheardLundistarriveattheentranceandstoptotakeinthescene,asIhad.Idrewcloseandthewarder

withouttheironglancedmyway.Hejumpedasifstung.“Whatinthe—”Heshookhisheadtoclearhisvision.“Who?Imean...”I’dimaginedthetorturers

wouldbeterrifyingmenwithcruelfaces,thinlips,hookednoses,theeyesofsoullessdemons.IthinkIfoundtheirordinarinessmoreofashock.Theshorterofthetwolookedatouchsimple,butinafriendlyway.MildI’dcallhim.“Who’reyou?”Thisone

hadamorebrutishcasttohim,butIcouldpicturehimatale,laughing,orteaching

hissonpitch-ball.Ihadn’tanyofmycourt

weedson,justasimpletunicfortheschoolroom.Therewasnoreasonforwarderstorecognizeme.TheywouldenterthevaultsthroughtheVillains’Gateandhadprobablyneverwalkedinthecastleabove.“I’mJorg,”Isaid,ina

servant’saccent.“MyunclepaidoldWart-faceatthedoor

toletmeseetheprisoners.”IpointedtowardLundist.“We’regoingtotheexecutionstomorrow.Iwantedtoseecriminalscloseupfirst.”Iwasn’tlookingatthe

wardersnow.Themanonthetableheldmygaze.I’dseenonlyoneblackskinbefore,aslavetosomenoblevisitingFather’scourtfromthesouth.Butthatmanwasbrown.The

fellowonthetablehadskinblackerthanink.Heturnedhisheadtofacemyway,slowasifitweighedlikelead.Thewhitesofhiseyesseemedtoshineinallthatblackness.“Wart-face?Heh,Ilike

that.”Thebigwarderrelaxedandtookuphisironagain.“Ifthere’stwoducatsinitformeandGrebbinhere,thenIreckonyoucanstayandwatchthisfellowsqueal.”

“Berrec,itdon’tseemright.”Grebbinfurrowedhisbroadforehead.“He’sayoung-unan’all.”Berrecpulledthepoker

fromthecoalsandheldittowardGrebbin.“Youdon’twanttostandbetweenmeandaducat,myfriend.”Theblackman’snaked

chestglistenedbelowtheglowingpoint.Uglyburnsmarkedhisribs,redflesh

eruptinglikenew-ploughedfurrows.Icouldsmellthesweetstenchofroastedmeat.“He’sveryblack,”Isaid.“He’saNubaniswhathe

is,”Berrecsaid,scowling.Hegavethepokeracriticallookandreturnedittothefire.“Whyareyouburning

him?”Iasked.Ididn’tfeeleasyundertheNuban’sscrutiny.Thequestionpuzzledthem

foramoment.Grebbin’sfrowndeepened.“He’sgotthedevilin

him,”Berrecsaidatlast.“AllthemNubanshave.Heathens,thelotofthem.IheardthatFatherGomst,himasleadstheKinghimselfinprayer,saystoburntheheathen.”BerreclaidahandontheNuban’sstomach,adisturbinglytendertouch.“Sowe’rejustcrispingthisoneup

abit,beforetheKingcomestowatchhimkilledonthemorrow.”“Executed.”Grebbin

pronouncedthewordwiththeprecisionofonewhohaspractiseditmanytimes.“Executed,killed,what’s

thedifference?Theyallendupfortheworms.”Berrecspatintothecoals.TheNubankepthiseyes

onme,aquietstudy.Ifelt

somethingIcouldn’tname.Ifeltsomehowwrongforbeingthere.Igroundmyteethtogetherandmethisgaze.“Whatdidhedo?”Iasked.“Do?”Grebbinsnorted.

“He’saprisoner.”“Hiscrime?”Iasked.Berrecshrugged.“Getting

caught.”Lundistspokefromthe

doorway.“Ibelieve...Jorg,

thatalloftheprisonersforexecutionarebandits,capturedbytheArmyoftheMarch.TheKingorderedtheactiontopreventraidsacrosstheLichwayintoNorwoodandotherprotectorates.”Ibrokemygazefromthe

Nuban’s,andletitslideacrossthemarksofhistorture.Wheretheskinremainedunburned,patternsofraisedscarspickedout

symbols,simpleindesignbutarrestingtotheeye.Asoiledloinclothhungacrosshiships.Hiswristsandankleswereboundwithironshacklessecuredwithabasicpin-lock.Bloodoozedalongtheshortchainsanchoringthemtothetable.“Ishedangerous?”Iasked.

Imovedclose.Icouldtastetheburnedmeat.“Yes.”TheNubansmiled

ashesaidit,histeethbloody.“Youshutyourheathen

hole,you.”Berrecyankedtheironfromthecoals.Ashowerofsparksflewupasheliftedthewhite-hotpokertoeye-level.Theglowmadesomethinguglyofhisface.ItremindedmeofawildnightwhenthelightninglitthefacesofCountRenar’smen.IturnedtotheNuban.If

he’dbeenwatchingtheiron,

I’dhavelefthimtoit.“Areyoudangerous?”I

askedhim.“Yes.”Ipulledthepinfromthe

manacleonhisrightwrist.“Showme.”

13

Fouryearsearlier

TheNubanmovedfast,butitwasn’thisspeedthatimpressed,itwashislackofhesitation.HereachedforBerrec’swrist.Asudden

heavebroughtthewardersprawlingacrosshim.ThepokerinBerrec’soutstretchedhandskeweredGrebbinthroughtheribs,deepenoughsothatBerreclosthisgriponitasGrebbintwistedaway.Withoutpause,theNuban

liftedhimselfhalfwaytositting,asclosetouprightashismanacledwristwouldlethim.BerrecsliddowntheNuban’schest,slidingon

sweatandblood,intohislap.Hestartedtoraisehimself.TheNuban’sdescendingelbowputanendtotheescapeattempt.ItcaughtBerreconthebackoftheneck,andbonescrunched.Grebbinscreamedof

course,butscreamswerecommonenoughinthedungeon.Hetriedtorun,butsomehowlosthissenseofdirectionandslammedintoa

celldoor,withenoughforcetodrivethepointofthepokeroutbelowhisshoulderblade.Theimpactknockedhimoverandhedidn’tgetupagain.Hetwistedforamoment,mouthingsomething,withonlywispsofsmokeorsteamescapinghislips.Acheerwentupfrom

thosecellscontainingoccupantstoostupidtoknowwhentostaysilent.

Lundistcouldhaverun.Hehadplentyoftime.Iexpectedhimtogoforhelp,buthewashalfwaytomebythetimeGrebbinhittheground.TheNubanpushedBerrecclear,andfreedhisotherwrist.“Run!”Ishoutedat

Lundistincaseithadn’toccurredtohim.Actually,hewasrunning,

onlyinthewrongdirection.Iknewtheyearslaylessheavy

onhimthananoldmanhadarighttoexpect,butIdidn’tthinkhecouldsprint.Imovedtoputthetable,

andtheNuban,betweenLundistandme.TheNubanunpinnedboth

anklesasLundistreachedhim.“Taketheboy,oldman,andgo.”HehadthedeepestvoiceI’deverheard.LundistfixedtheNuban

withthosedisconcertingblue

eyesofhis.Hisrobessettled,forgettingtherushfromthedoorway.Heheldhandstohischest,oneatoptheother.“Ifyougonow,manofNuba,Iwillnotstopyou.”Thatbroughtascatterof

laughterfromthecells.TheNubanwatched

LundistwiththesameintensityI’dseenearlier.Hehadafewinchesonmytutor,butitwasthedifferencein

bulkthatmadeitseemacontestbetweenDavidandGoliath.WhereLundiststoodslenderasaspear,theNubanhadasmuchweightagain,andmore,cordedintothickslabsofmuscleoverheavybone.TheNubandidn’tlaughat

Lundist.Perhapshesawmorethantheprisonersdid.“I’lltakemybrotherswithme.”Lundistchewedonthat,

thentookapaceback.“Jorg,here.”HekepthisgazeontheNuban.“Brothers?”Iasked.I

couldn’tseeanyblackfacesatthebars.TheNubangaveabroad

smile.“OnceIhadhut-brothers.Nowtheyarefaraway,maybedead.”Hespreadhisarms,thesmilebecominghalfgrimaceashefelthisburns.“Butthegods

havegivenmenewbrothers,road-brothers.”“Road-brothers.”Irolled

thewordsacrossmytongue.AnimageofWillflickeredinmymind,bloodandcurls.Therewaspowerhere.Ifeltit.“Killthemboth,andletme

out.”Adoortomyleftrattledasifabullwereworryingatit.Ifthespeakermatchedhisvoice,therewasanogrein

there.“Youowemeyourlife,

Nuban,”Isaid.“Yes.”Hejerkedthekeys

fromBerrec’sbeltandsteppedtowardthecellonmyleft.Isteppedwithhim,keepinghimbetweenLundistandmyself.“You’llgivemealifein

return,”Isaid.Hepaused,glancingat

Lundist.“Gowithyouruncle,

boy.”“You’llgivemealife,

brother,orI’lltakeyoursasforfeit,”Isaid.Morelaughterfromthe

cells,andthistimetheNubanjoinedin.“Whodoyouwantkilled,LittleBrother?”Hesetthekeyinthelock.“I’lltellyouwhenwesee

him,”Isaid.TospecifyCountRenarnowwouldraisetoomanyquestions.“I’m

comingwithyou.”Lundistrushedforwardat

that.HepivotedpasttheNuban,deliveringakicktothebackofhisknee.Iheardaloudclickastheblackmanwentdown.TheNubantwistedashe

fell,andlungedforLundist.Somehowtheoldmanevadedhim,andwhentheNubansprawledathisfeet,Lundistkickedhimintheneck,a

blowthatcutoffhisoathandlefthimlimponthestonefloor.Ialmostskippedfree,but

Lundist’sfingersknottedinmyhairasitstreamedbehindme.“Jorg!Thisisnottheway!”Ifoughttoescape,

snarling.“It’sexactlytheway.”AndIknewittobetrue.ThewildnessintheNuban,thebondsbetween

thesemen,thefocusonwhatwillmakethedifference—nomatterwhatthesituation—allofitechoedinme.Fromthecornerofmyeye

Icaughtsightofthecelldooropening.Theclickhadbeenthekeyturning.Lundistheldmyshoulders

andmademefacehim.“You’venoplacewiththesemen,Jorg.Youcan’timaginethelifetheylead.Theydon’t

havetheanswersyouwant.”Hehadsuchintensitytohim,Icouldalmostbelievehecared.Afigureemergedfromthe

cell,stoopingtocomethroughthedoorway.I’dneverseenamansobig,notSirGerrantoftheTableGuard,notShemthestablehand,northewrestlersfromTheSlavs.Themancameupbehind

Lundist,quick,arollingstorm.“Jorg,youthinkIdon’t

understand—”ThesweepofamassivearmcutoffLundist’swordsandsenthimtothestonefloorwithsuchforceI’dhavewincedevenifhehadn’ttakenahandfulofmyhairwithhim.Themantoweredoverme,

anuglygiantinstinkingrags,withhishairhangingdownin

mattedcurtains.Thescaleofhimmesmerizedme.Hereachedforme,andImovedtooslow.Thehandthatcaughtmecouldalmostclosearoundmywaist.Heliftedmelevelwithhisface,andhisfilthymanepartedashelookedup.“Jesu,butyou’reone

hideousoffencetotheeye.”Icouldtellhewasgoingtokillme,sonopointinbeing

tactful.“IcanseewhytheKingwantstoexecuteyou.”Evenfromtheanonymity

ofthecellsthelaughterwashesitant.Notamantomock,then.Nothingsoftinhisface,justbrutelines,scar,andthejutofbonebeneathcoarseskin.Heliftedme,asiftodashmeonthestone,likethrowingdownanegg.“No!”Icouldseeunderthe

giant’sarm,anoldmanandared-hairedyouthhadfollowedhimoutandwerenowhelpingtheNubantohisfeet.“No,”theNubansaid

again.“Iowehimalife,BrotherPrice.Andbesides,withouthim,you’dstillbeinthatcellwaitingonthepleasuresofthemorrow.”BrotherPricegavemea

lookofimpersonalmalice,

andletmefallasthoughI’dceasedtoexist.“Letthemallout.”Hegrowledthewords.TheNubangavethekeys

totheoldman.“BrotherElban.”ThenhecameacrosstowhereI’dlanded.Lundistlaycloseby,facetothefloor,bloodpoolingaroundhisforehead.“Thegodssentyou,boy,to

loosemefromthattable.”TheNubanglancedatthe

torturerack,thenatLundist.“Youcomewiththebrothersnow.Ifwefindthemanyouwantdead,Ikillhim,maybe.”Inarrowedmyeyes.I

didn’tlikethat“maybe.”IlookedtoLundistfora

moment.Icouldn’ttellifhewasstillbreathing.IsensedaghostoftheguiltIshouldperhapshavefelt,theitchfromanamputatedlimb,still

nigglingthoughthefleshhaslongsincegone.IstoodbesidetheNuban,

withLundistatmyfeet,andwatchedastheoutlawsreleasedtheircomrades.Ifoundmyselfstaringintotheorangeheatofthecoals,remembering.Irememberedatimewhen

Ilivedinthelie.Ilivedinaworldofsoftthings,mutabletruths,gentletouches,

laughterforitsownsake.Thehandthatpulledmefromthecarriagethatnight,fromthewarmthofmymother’sside,intoanightofrainandscreaming,thathandpulledmeoutbyadoorwaythatIcan’tgobackthrough.Weallofuspassthroughthatdoor,butwetendtoexitofourownvolition,andbydegrees,sniffingtheair,tornandtentative.

Inthedaysfollowingmyescapeandillness,Isawmyolddreamsgrowsmallandwither.Isawmychild’slifeyellowonthetreeandfall,asifaharshwinterhadcometohauntthespring.Itwasashocktoseehowlittlemylifehadmeant.HowmeanthedensandfortsinwhichWilliamandIhadplayedwithsuchfiercebelief,howfoolishourtoyswithoutthe

intensityofaninnocentimaginationtoanimatetheirexistence.EverywakinghourIfeltan

ache,apainthatgreweachtimeIturnedthememoryoverinmyhand.AndIreturnedtoit,timeandagain,likeatonguetothesocketofamissingtooth,drawnbytheabsence.Iknewitwouldkillme.Thepainbecamemy

enemy.MorethantheCountRenar,morethanmyfather’sbarteringwithlivesheshouldhaveheldmorepreciousthancrown,orglory,orJesuonthecross.And,becauseinsomehardcoreofme,insomestubborntrenchofselfishrefusal,Icouldnot,evenattenyearsofage,surrendertoanythingoranyone,Ifoughtthatpain.Ianalyseditsoffensive,and

founditslinesofattack.Itfestered,likethecorruptioninawoundturnedsour,drawingstrengthfromme.Iknewenoughtoknowtheremedy.Hotironforinfection,cauterize,burn,makeitpure.Icutfrommyselfalltheweaknessofcare.Theloveformydead,Iputaside,secureinacasket,anobjectofstudy,adryexhibit,nolongerbleeding,cutloose,set

free.Thecapacityfornewlove,Iburnedout.Iwatereditwithaciduntilthegroundlaybarrenandnothingtherewouldsprout,noflowertakeroot.“Come.”Ilookedup.TheNuban

wasspeakingtome.“Come.We’reready.”Thebrothersweregathered

aroundusinraggedandill-smellingarray.Pricehadone

ofthewarders’swords.Theothergleamedinthehandofasecondgiantofaman,justashadeshorter,ashadelighter,ashadeyounger,andsosimilarinformthathecouldonlyhavebeensqueezedfromthesamewombasPrice.“We’regoingtocutaway

outofhere.”Pricetestedtheedgeofhisswordagainsttheshortbeardalonghisjawline.

“Burlow,upfrontwithRikeandme.GemtandElban,taketherear.Iftheboyslowsusdown,killhim.”Pricethrewalookaround

thechamber,spat,andmadeforthecorridor.TheNubanputahandon

myshoulder.“Youshouldstay.”HenoddedtoLundist.“Butifyoucome,don’tfallbehind.”IlookeddownatLundist.I

couldhearthevoicestellingmetostay,familiarvoices,butdistant.Iknewtheoldmanwouldwalkthroughfiretosaveme,notbecausehefearedmyfather’swrath,butjust...because.Icouldfeelthechainsthatboundmetohim.Thehooks.Ifelttheweaknessagain.IfeltthepainseepingthroughcracksI’dthoughtsealed.IlookedupattheNuban.

“Iwon’tfallbehind,”Isaid.TheNubanpursedhislips,

shrugged,andsetoffaftertheothers.IsteppedoverLundist,andfollowed.

Assassinationisjustmurderwithatouchmoreprecision.BrotherSimisprecise.

14

SowerodeoutfromNorwood.Thepeasantswatchedus,allsullenanddazed,andRikecursedthem.AsifithadbeenhisideatokeepthemfromaRenarbonfireandnowtheyowedhimacheerasheleft.Weleft

themtheruinsoftheirtown,decoratedwiththecorpsesofthementhatruinedit.Poorcompensation,especiallyafterRikeandthebrothershadstrippedthedeadofanythingofworth.IreckonedwecouldmakeCrathCitybynightfall,ridinghard,andbebangingonthegatesoftheTallCastlebeforethemoonrose.Ishouldn’thavebeen

turningforhome,pickingupmyoldways,andthinkingoncemoreaboutvengeanceupontheCountofRenar.That’swhatinstincttoldme.ButtodayinstinctspokewithanoldanddryvoiceandInolongertrustedit.Iwantedtogohome,perhapsbecauseitfeltasthoughsomethingelserequiredthatIdidnot.IwantedtogohomeandifHellroseuptostopme,it

wouldmakemedesireitthemore.WetooktheCastleRoad,upthroughthegardenlandsofAncrath.Ourpathranalongsidegentlestreams,betweensmallwoodsandquietfarms.I’dforgottenhowgreenitwas.I’dgrownusedtoaworldofchurnedmud,burnedfields,smoke-greyskies,andthedeadrottingontheground.Thesunfoundus,pushingitswaythroughhigh

cloud.Inthewarmthourcolumnsloweduntiltheclatterofhoovesbrokeintolazythuds.Gerrodpausedwhereathree-bargateledthroughthehedgerow.Beyondit,afield,goldenwithwheat,rolledoutbeforeus.Hetoreatthelonggrassaroundthegatepost.ItfeltasifGodhadpouredhoneyovertheland,sweetandslow,holdingeverythingatpeace.

Norwoodlayfifteenmiles,andathousandyears,behindus.“Goodtobeback,eh,

Jorg?”Makinpulledupbesideme.Heleanedforwardinhisstirrupsanddrankintheair.“Smellsofhome.”Anditdid.Thescentof

warmearthtookmeback,backtotimeswhenmyworldwassmall,andsafe.“Ihatethisplace,”Isaid.

Helookedshockedatthat,andMakinwasneveraneasymantoshock.“It’sapoisonmentakewillingly,knowingitwillmakethemweak.”IgaveGerrodmyheelsand

lethimhurryuptheroad.Makincaughtmeupandcanteredalongside.WepassedRikeandBurlowatthecrossroads,throwingrocksatascarecrow.“Menfightfortheir

homeland,Prince,”Makinsaid.“It’sthelandtheydefend.TheKingandtheland.”Iturnedtoholleratthe

stragglers.“Closetheline!”Makinkeptpace,waiting

forananswer.“Letthesoldiersdiefortheirland,”Isaidtohim.“Ifthetimecomestosacrificethesefieldsinthecauseofvictory,I’llletthemburninaheartbeat.

Anythingthatyoucannotsacrificepinsyou.Makesyoupredictable,makesyouweak.”Werodeonatatrot,west,

tryingtocatchthesun.Soonenoughwefoundthe

garrisonatChelnyFord.Orrathertheyfoundus.Thewatchtowermusthaveseenusonthetrail,andfiftymencameoutalongtheCastleRoadtoblockourway.

Ipulledupafewyardsshortofthepikemen,strungacrosstheroadinabristlinghedge,double-ranked.Therestofthesquadwaitedbehindthepike-wall,withdrawnswords,saveforadozenarchersarrayedamongstthecorninthefieldtoourright.Ascoreofheifers,inthefieldopposite,sawourapproachandidledovertoinvestigate.

“MenofChelnyFord,”Icalledout.“Wellmet.Wholeadshere?”Makincameupbehindme,

therestofthebrotherstrailinginafterhim,easyintheirsaddles.Atallmansteppedforward

betweentwopikemen,butnottoofarforward,noidiotthisone.HeworetheAncrathcoloursoveralongchainshirt,andanironpot-helm

lowonhisbrow.Tomyrightadozensetsofwhiteknucklesstrainedonbowstrings.Tomylefttheheiferswatchedfrombehindthehedge,complacentandchewingonthecud.“I’mCaptainCoddin.”He

hadtoraisehisvoiceasoneofthecowsletoutalowmoo.“TheKingsignsmercenariesatRelstonFayre.Armedbandsarenot

permittedtoroamintoAncrath.Stateyourbusiness.”HekepthiseyesonMakin,lookingforhisanswerthere.Ididn’tcareforbeing

dismissedasachild,butthere’satimeandplacefortakingoffence.Besides,oldCoddinseemedtoknowhisstuff.PuttingBrotherGemtoutofhismiserywasonething,butwastingoneof

Father’scaptainsquiteanother.Ihadmyvisorupalready,

soIusedittopullmyhelmoff.“FatherGomst!”Icalledforthepriest,andthebrothersshuffledtheirhorsesasidewithafewmutterstolettheoldfellowpast.Hewasn’tmuchtolookat.He’dhackedoffthatbeardhegrewinthegibbet-cage,butgreytuftsstilldecoratedhisfacein

randomclusters,andhispriestlyrobesseemedmoremudthancloth.“CaptainCoddin,”Isaid.

“Doyouknowthispriest,FatherGomst?”Coddinraisedaneyebrow

atthat.Hehadapaleface,andnowitwentpaler.Hismouthtookonahardedge,likeamanwhoknowshe’sthebuttofajokethathehasn’tworkedoutyet.“Aye,”

hesaid.“TheKing’spriest.”Hesnappedhisheelstogetherandinclinedhishead,asifhewereincourt.Itseemedfunnyoutthereintheroad,withthebirdstweetingoverheadandthestinkofthecowswashingoverus.“FatherGomst,”Isaid.

“PraytellCaptainCoddinwhoIam.”Theoldfellowpuffed

himselfupabit.He’dbeen

listlessandgreysinceNorwood,butnowhetriedtofindacrumbortwoofauthority.“PrinceHonorousJorg

Ancrathsitsbeforeyou,Captain.Lostandnowreturned,heisboundforhisroyalfather’scourt,andyouwoulddowelltoseethathegetstherewithproperescort...”Heglancedatme,screwingupwhatcouragehe

hadbehindthefoolishremnantsofhisbeard.“Andabath.”Alittlesniggerwentupat

that,onbothsidesofourstandoff.Itdoesn’tpaytounderestimateacleric.Theyknowthepowerofwordsandthey’llusethemtotheirownends.Mypalmachedforthehiltofmysword.IsawoldGomst’sheadfallingfromhisshoulders,bouncingonce,

twice,androllingtoahaltbythehoovesofablack-and-whiteheifer.Ipushedthevisionaway.“Nobath.It’sabouttime

foralittleroad-stinkatcourt.Softwordsandrosewatermaypleasethegentry,butthosethatfightthewarlivedirty.Ireturntomyfatherasamanwhohassharedthesoldier’slot.Lethimknowthetruthofit.”Iletmywords

carryonthestillair,andkeptmyeyesonGomsty.Hehadthewittolookaway.Myspeechearnedno

rousingcheer,butCoddinbowedhisheadandwehadnofurthermentionofbaths.Ashame,truthbetold,becauseI’dbeenlookingforwardtoahottubeversinceIdecidedtoturnforhome.SoCoddinlefthissecond

tocommandthegarrison,androdewithus.Hisescortoftwodozenridersswelledournumberstonearlysixty.MakincarriedalancefromtheFordarmourynow,flyingtheAncrathcoloursandroyalcrest.Thegarrisonridersspreadwordthroughthevillagesaswepassed.“PrinceJorg,PrinceJorgreturnedfromthedead.”Thenewsstoleaheadofus,untileach

townpresentedalargerandbetterpreparedreception.CaptainCoddinsentaridertotheKingbeforeweleftChelnyFord,butevenwithouthismessage,theywouldknowofusintheTallCastlewellbeforewegotthere.AtBainsTownthebunting

stretchedacrossMainStreet,sixminstrels,sportingluteandclavichord,played“The

King’sSword”withmoregustothanskill,jugglersexchangedtwirlingfire-brands,andabeardancedbeforethemillpond.Andthecrowds!Peoplepackedinsotightwe’dnohopeofridingthrough.Afatwomaninatentofadresswhichwasstripedlikeatourneypavilionsawmeamidthevan.Shepointedandgaveashriekthatdrownedtheminstrelsout,

“PrinceJorg!TheStolenPrince!”Thewholeplacewentmadatthat,cheeringandcrying.Theysurgedforwardlikewildthings.Coddinhadhismeninquick,though.Iforgavehimhisearlierslightforthat.IfpeasantshadreachedRike,we’dhavehadredslaughter.OntheLichRoadthe

brothersweremorescared,butthat’stheonlytimeI’ve

seenmorefearinthemthanthereatBainsTown.Theynoneofthemknewwhattomakeofit.Grumlow’slefthandneverlefthisdagger.RedKentgrinnedlikeamaniac,terrorinhiseyes.Still,they’dlearnfastenough.Whentheyfiguredoutthewelcomethatlayahead.Whenthey’dseenthetavernsandthewhores.Well,there’dbenodraggingthem

outofBainsTowninaweek.Oneoftheminstrelsfound

ahorn,andaharshnotecutthroughthetumult.Guards,red-robedwithblackchainbeneath,clearedapath,andnolessamanthanLordNossarofElmemergedbeforeus.Irecognizedthemanfromcourt.Helookedslightlyfatterinhisgildedshow-plateandvelvets,rathermoregreyinthebeard

spillingdownoverhisbreastplate,butprettymuchthesamejollyoldNossarwhorodemeonhisshouldersonceuponatime.“PrinceJorg!”Theold

man’svoicebrokeforamoment.Icouldseetearsshininginhiseyes.Itcaughtatme,thatdid.Ifeltithooksomethinginmychest.Ididn’tlikeit.“LordNossar,”Igave

back,andletasmilecurlmylip.ThesamesmileIgaveGemtbeforeIlethimhavemyknife.IsawaflickerinNossar’seyesthen.Justamomentofdoubt.Heralliedhimself.“Prince

Jorg!Beyondallhope,you’vereturnedtous.Icursedthemessengerforaliar,buthereyouare.”Hehadthedeepestvoice,richandgolden.OldNossarspoke

andyouknewitwastruth,youknewhelikedyou,itwrappedyouupallwarmandsafe,thatvoicedid.“Willyouhonourmyhouse,PrinceJorg,andstayanight?”Icouldseethebrothers

exchangingglances,eyeingwomeninthecrowd.Themillpondburnedcrimsonwiththedyingsun.North,abovethedarklineofRennatForest,thesmokeofCrath

Citystainedadarkeningsky.“Mylord,it’sagracious

invitation,butImeantosleepintheTallCastletonight.I’vebeenawaytoolong,”Isaid.Icouldseetheworryon

him.Ithungoneverycragoftheman’sface.Hewantedtosaymore,butnothere.IwonderedifFathersethimtodetainme.“Prince...”Helifteda

hand,hiseyesseekingmine.

Ifeltthathookinmychestagain.Hewouldsetmedowninhishighhallandtalkofoldtimesinthatgoldenvoice.He’dspeakofWilliam,andMother.Iftherewasamanwhocoulddisarmme,Nossarwasthatman.“Ithankyouforthe

welcome,LordNossar.”Igavehimcourtformality,curtandfinal.Ihadtohaulonthereinsto

turnGerrod.IthinkevenhorseslikedNossar.Iledthebrothersaroundbytherivertrail,tramplingoversomefarmer’sautumnturnips.Thepeasantscheeredon,notsurewhatwashappening,butcheeringallthesame.WecametotheTallCastle

bythecliffpath,avoidingthesprawlofCrathCity.Thelightslaybelowus.Streetsbeadedwithtorchlight,the

glowoffireandlamprisingfromwindowsnotyetshutteredagainstthecoolofthenight.Thewatchmen’slanternspickedouttheOldCitywall,askewedsemicircle,taperingdowntotheriverwherethehousesspilledoutbeyondthewalls,intothevalley,reachingoutalongtheriver.WecametotheWestGate,theoneplacewecouldreachtheHighCity

withouttrailingupthroughthenarrowstreetsoftheOldCity.Theguardsraisedtheportcullisesforus,firstone,thenthenext,thenthenext.Tenminutesofcreakingwindlassandclankingchain.Iwonderedwhythethreegatesweredown.Didourfoestrulypresssoclosewemusttriple-gatetheHighWall?Thegatecaptaincameout

whilsthismensweatedtoraisethelastportcullis.Archerswatchedfromthebattlementshighabove.Nobuntinghere.Irecognizedthemanvaguely,asoldasGomst,salt-and-pepperhair.ItwashissourexpressionIrecalledbest,pinchedaroundthemouthasifhe’djustthatmomentsuckedalemon.“PrinceJorg,wearetold?”

Hepeeredupatme,raising

historchalmosttomyface.EvidentlyIhadenoughoftheKing’slookaboutmetosatisfyhiscuriosity.Heloweredthetorchfastenoughandtookastepback.I’mtoldIhavemyfather’seyes.MaybeIdo,thoughminearedarker.Wecouldbothgiveastarethatmadementhinkagain.I’vealwaysthoughtIlooktoogirlish.Mymouthtoomuchtherosebud,my

cheekbonestoohighandfine.It’sofnogreatconsequence.I’velearnedtowearmyfaceasamask,andgenerallyIcanwritewhatIchooseonit.Thecaptainnoddedto

CaptainCoddin.HepassedhisgazeoverMakinwithoutaflicker,missedFatherGomstinthecrowd,andlingeredinsteadontheNuban,beforecastingadubiouseyeoverRike.

“IcanfindaccommodationforyourmenintheLowCity,PrinceJorg,”hesaid.BytheLowCityhemeantthesprawlbeyondthewallsofOldCity.“Mycompanionscanboard

withmeatthecastle,”Isaid.“KingOlidanrequiresonly

yourpresence,PrinceJorg,”thegatecaptainsaid.“AndthatofFatherGomst,andCaptainBorthaifheiswithyou?”

Makinraisedamailedhand.Boththegatecaptain’seyebrowsvanishedupbeneathhishelmatthat.“MakinBortha?No...?”“Oneandthesame,”

Makinsaid.Hegavethemanabroadgrin,showingaltogethertoomanyteeth.“Beenawhile,Relkin,youoldbastard.”“KingOlidanrequires”...

noroomformanoeuvrethere.

Apolitelittle“getyourroad-scumdowntotheslums.”AtleastRelkinmadeitclearenoughfromthestart,ratherthanlettingmelosefacebyarguingtheoddsbeforeover-rulingmewith“KingOlidanrequires.”“Elban,takethebrothers

downtotheriverandfindsomerooms.There’satavern,TheFallingAngel,shouldbebigenoughforyou

all,”Isaid.Elbanlookedsurprisedat

havingbeenchosen,surprisedbutpleased.Hesmackedhislipsoverhistoothlessgumsandglaredbackattherestofthem.“YouheardJorth!PrinceJorthImean.Moveitout!”“Killingpeasantsisa

hangingoffence,”Isaidastheyturnedtheirhorses.“Hearme,LittleRikey?Even

one.Sonokilling,nopillage,andnoraping.Youwantawoman,lettheCountofRenarbuyyouonewithhiscoin.Hell,lethimbuyyouthree.”Allthreegatesstoodopen.

“CaptainCoddin,apleasure.EnjoyyourridebacktotheFord,”Isaid.Coddinbowedinthe

saddleandledhistroopsoff.Thatleftjustme,Gomst,and

Makin.“Leadon,”Isaid.AndGateCaptainRelkinledusthroughtheWestGateintotheHighCity.Wehadnocrowdsto

contendwith.Thehourwaswellpastmidnightandthemoonrodehighnow.ThewidestreetsoftheHighCitylaydesertedsavefortheoccasionalservantscurryingfromonegreathousetothenext.Maybeamerchant’s

daughterortwowatchedusfrombehindtheshutters,butinthemainthenoblehousessleptsoundandshowednointerestinareturningprince.Gerrod’shoovessounded

tooloudontheflagstonesleadinguptoTallCastle.FouryearsagoIleftinvelvetslippers,quieterthananymouse.Theclatterofironshoesonstonehurtmyears.Inside,asmallvoicestill

whisperedthatI’dwakeFather.Bequiet,bequiet,don’tbreathe,don’tevenletyourheartbeat.TallCastleisofcourse

anythingbuttall.InfouryearsontheroadIhadseentallercastles,evenbiggercastles,butneveranythingquitelikeTallCastle.Theplaceseemedatoncefamiliarandstrange.Iremembereditasbigger.Thecastlemay

haveshrunkfromtheunendingvastnessI’dcarriedwithmeinmemory,butitstillseemedhuge.TutorLundisttoldmethewholeplaceonceservedasfoundationsforacastlesotallitwouldscrapethesky.Hesaidthatwhenmenfirstbuiltthis,allweseenowlayundertheground.TheRoad-mendidn’tbuildTallCastle,butthosewhodidhadartifice

almosttoequalthatoftheRoad-men.Thewallsweren’tquarry-hewn,butseeminglycrushedrockthathadoncepouredlikewater.Somemagicsetmetalbarsthroughthestoneofthewall,twistedbarsofametaltoughereventhantheblackironfromtheEast.SoTallCastlebroodedsquatandancient,andtheKingsatwithinitsmetal-veinedwalls,watchingover

theHighCity,theOldCity,theLowCity.WatchingoverthecityofCrathandallthedominionsofhisline.Myline.Mycity.Mycastle.

15

Fouryearsearlier

WelefttheTallCastlebytheBrownGate,asmalldooronthelowerslopesofthemount,outpasttheHighWall.Icamelast,withthe

acheofallthosestepsinmylegs.Faintredfootprintsmarked

thetopstair.Theownersofthatbloodwereprobablystillbleeding,farbehindus.ForamomentIsaw

Lundist,lyingasI’dlefthim.We’dclimbedfromthe

verybowelsofthecastlevaults,totheleastostentatiousofallthecastle’sexits.Dungmencamethis

wayadozentimesaday,carryingoffthetreasuresoftheprivy.AndI’lltellyou,royalshitstinksnolessthananyother.Thebrotheraheadofme

turnedatthearchway,andshowedmehisteethbywayofagrin.“Freshair!Takeabreatho’that,CastleBoy.”I’dheardtheNubancall

thisoneRow,awireofaman,gristleandbone,old

scarsandameaneye.“I’lllickaleper’sneckbeforeItakealung-fullo’yourstench,BrotherRow.”Ipushedpasthim.It’dtakemorethantalkinglikearoad-brothertoearnaplacewiththesemen,andgivinganinchwasn’tthewaytostart.Ancrathstretchedouton

ourright.Totheleft,thesmokeandspiresofCrathCityrosebehindtheOld

Wall.Astormlightcovereditall.Thekindthatfallswhenthundercloudsgatherintheday.Aflatlightthatmakesastrangerofeventhemostfamiliarlandscape.Itfeltappropriate.“Wetravelfastandwe

travelhard,”Pricesaid.PriceandRike,theonly

truebrothersamongus,stoodshouldertoshoulderattheheadofthecolumn,Rike

beetlinghisbrowwhilePricetoldushowitwouldbe.“Weputasmanymilesbetweenusandthisshit-holeasittakes.Thestormwillhideourtracks.We’llfindhorsesaswego,roustavillageortwoifneedbe.”“YouthinktheKing’s

hunterscan’ttracktwodozenmenthroughabitofrain?”Iwishedmyvoicedidn’tringsopureandhighasIsaidit.

Theyallturnedroundatthat.TheNubanflashedmealook,eyeswide,andpatteddownattheairasiftoshutmeup.Ipointedtothesprawlof

roofsedgingtowardtheriverwhereFather’slovingcitizenshadbuiltbeyondthesafetyofthecitywallsintheirpassiontobenearhim.“Byonesandtwosa

brothercouldfindhiswayto

awarmhearth,bitofroastbeef,andanalemaybe,”Isaid.“Ihearthere’satavernorthreetobefounddownthere.Abrothercouldbetoastingbyafirebeforetherainevengottowashinghistrailaway.“TheKing’smenwouldbe

ridingbackandforthonthosefinehorsesoftheirs,gettingwet,lookingforthekindofrutthattwentymenputina

roadoracrossafield,lookingforthekindoftroubleabandofbrothersstirsup.Andwe’dbesittingcomfortableintheshadowoftheTallCastle,waitingfortheweathertoclear.“Youthinkthere’saman

weleftbehindwhocouldtelltheCrierswhatwelooklike?YouthinkthegoodfolkofCrathCitywillnoticeascoreaddedtotheirthousands?”

IcouldseeI’dwonthem.Icouldseethelightofthatwarmhearthreflectingintheireyes.“Andhowthefeckarewe

topayforroastbeefandarooftohideunder?”Priceshovedthroughthebrothers,settingtheredhead,Gemt,onhisrear.“StartrobbingintheshadowoftheTallCastle?”“Yeah,howwea-gonna

pay,CastleBoy?”Gemt

scrambledtohisfeet,findingmeabettertargetthanPriceforhisanger.“Howwegonna?”Ibroughtuptwoducats

frommypurse,andrubbedthemtogether.“I’lltakethat!”Asharp-

facedmantomyleftlungedforthepurse,stillfatwithcoin.Iflippedthedaggerfrom

mybeltandstuckitthrough

hisoutstretchedhand.“Liar,”Isaid.Ishoveda

littlemore,untilthehiltslappedupagainsthispalm,thebladeglisteningredbehind.“Outtheway,Liar.”Price

grabbedhimbytheneckandtossedhimdowntheslope.Priceloomedoverme.Any

full-grownmanloomedoverme,butPriceaddedanewdimensiontoit.Hetooka

handfulofmyjerkinandhauledmeup,eyetoeye,carelessofthebloodyknifeIstillhadholdof.“You’renotscaredofme,

areyou,boy?”Thestinkofhimwassomethingawful.Deaddogcomesclose.Ithoughtaboutstabbing

him,butIknewtherewasn’tawoundthatwouldstophimbreakingmeintwobeforehedied.

“Areyouscaredofme?”Iaskedhim.Wehadusamomentof

understandingthen.Pricedidn’tsomuchastwitch,butIsawitinhim,andhesawitinme.Heletmefall.“We’llstayadayinthe

city,”Pricesaid.“ThedrinksareonBrotherJorg.Anyofyouwhoresonsstarttroublebeforeweleave,andI’llhurtyou,bad.”

HeheldahandouttomewhereIlay.Ihalf-reachedforit,beforeunderstanding.Itossedthepursetohim.“I’llgowiththeNuban,”I

said.Pricenodded.Ablackface

lostfromthedungeonswouldberemembered.AblackfacefoundinaCrathtavernwouldberemarkedon.TheNubanshrugged,and

setoff,easttowardtheopen

fields.Ifollowed.Itwasn’tuntilwe’dlost

ourselvesinthemazeoftracksandhedgerowsthattheNubanspokeagain.“Youshouldbeafraidof

Price,boy.”Thefirstbreathofstorm

windsetthehawthornrustlingtoeitherside.Icouldsmelltheelectricity,mixedinwiththerichnessoftheearth.“Why?”Iwonderedifhe

thoughtIlackedtheimaginationforfear.Somemenaretoodulltofeelwhatmighthappen.Otherstorturethemselveswithmaybesandpopulatetheirdreamswithhorrorsmoreterriblethantheirworstenemycouldinflictuponthem.“Whywouldthegodscare

whathappenstoachildwhodoesn’tcareabouthimself?”theNubanasked.

Hepausedbeforeaturnintheroadandmovedclosetothehedge.Thewindshookagainandwhitepetalsfellamongthethorns.Helookedbackalongthewaywe’dcome.“MaybeI’mnotafraidof

thegodseither,”Isaid.Fatdropsofrainbeganto

landaroundus.TheNubanshookhishead.

Raindropssparkledinthe

tightcurlsofhishair.“You’reafooltomakeafistatthegods,boy.”Heflashedmeagrin,andedgedtothecorner.“Whoknowswhattheymightsendyou?”Rainappearedtobethe

answer.Itseemedtofallfasterthannormal,asifthesheerweightofwaterwaitingtofallhurriedtheraindropsdown.ImovedinbesidetheNuban.Thehedgeofferedno

shelter.Theraincamethroughmytunic,coldenoughtostealmybreath.IthoughtthenofthecomfortsI’dleftbehind,andwonderedifperhapsIshouldhavetakenLundist’scounselafterall.“Whyarewewaiting?”I

asked.Ihadtoraisemyvoiceabovetheroaroftherain.TheNubanshrugged.“The

roadfeelswrong.”“Feelsmorelikeariver—

butwhyarewewaiting?”Heshruggedagain.

“MaybeIneedarest.”Hetouchedahandtohisburns,andawinceshowedmehisteeth,verywhitewheremostofthebrothershadamouthfulofgreyrot.FiveminutespassedandI

keptmypeace.Wecouldn’tgetwetterifwe’dfallendownawell.“Howdidyouallget

taken?”Iasked.IthoughtofPriceandRike,andthenotionofthemsurrenderingtotheKing’sguardseemedsomehowcomical.TheNubanshookhishead.“How?”Iaskedagain,

louder,abovetherain.TheNubanglancedback

alongtheroad,thenbentinclose.“Adream-witch.”“Awitch?”Imadeafaceat

himandspatwatertothe

side.“Adream-witch.”The

Nubannodded.“ThewitchcameinoursleepandkeptustiedindreamswhiletheKing’smentookus.”“Why?”Iasked.IfItook

thewitchseriously,andIdidn’t,Iknewforcertainthatmyfatherdidn’temployany.“Ithinkhewasseekingto

pleasetheKing,”theNubansaid.

Hestoodwithoutannouncementandsetoffthroughthemud.Ifollowed,butIheldmytongue.I’dseenchildrentagaftergrownmenthrowingquestionafterquestion,butIhadputchildhoodaside.Myquestionscouldwait,atleastuntiltherainstopped.Wesploshedalongata

goodpaceforthebestpartofanhourbeforehestopped

again.Therainhadgraduatedfromdelugetoasteadysoakthatfellwiththepromiseoflastingthenightandthroughthenextmorning.Thistimeourpauseinthehedgerowprovedwelljudged.Tenhorsementhunderedby,kickingupmudleftandright.“Yourkingwantsusback

inhisdungeons,Jorg.”“He’snotmykingany

more,”Isaid.Imadetostand,

buttheNubancaughtmyshoulder.“Youleftarichlifeinthe

King’sowncastle,andnowyou’rehidingintherain.”Hekeptaclosewatchonme.HereadtoomuchwithhiseyesandIdidn’tlikeit.“Yourunclesacrificedhimselftokeepyousafe.AgoodmanIthink.Old,strong,wise.Butyoucame.”Heshookaclotofmudfromhisfreehand.A

silencestretchedbetweenus,thekindthatinvitesyoutofillitwithconfession.“There’samanIwant

dead.”TheNubanfrowned.

“Childrenshouldn’tbethisway.”Therainranintricklesoverthefurrowsonhisbrow.“Menshouldn’tbethisway.”Ishooklooseandsetoff.

TheNubanfellinbesidemeandwecoveredanotherten

milesbeforethelightfailedentirely.Ourpathtookusby

farmhousesandtheoccasionalmill,butasnightcamewesawaclusteroflightsbelowawoodedridgealittlesouthofus.FrommemoryofLundist’smapsIguessedittobethevillageofPineacre,untilnownothingmoretomethanasmallgreendotonoldparchment.

“Abitofdrywouldbenice.”Icouldsmellthewood-smoke.AllofasuddenIunderstoodhoweasilyI’dsoldthebrothersmyplanonthestrengthofwarmthandfood.“Weshouldspendthe

nightupthere.”TheNubanpointedtotheridge.Therainfellsoftnow.It

wrappedusinacoldblanketthatleechedmystrength

away.Icursedmyweakness.Adayontheroadhadleftmedeadonmyfeet.“Wecouldsneakintoone

ofthosebarns,”Isaid.Twostoodisolated,justbelowthetreeline.TheNubanstartedtoshake

hishead.Intheeastthunderrumbled,lowbutsustained.TheNubanshrugged.“Wecould.”Thegodslovedme!Wemadeourwaythrough

fieldsturnedhalftoswamp,stumblinginthedarkness,metrippingovermyexhaustion.Thedoortothebarn

groanedaprotest,thensquealedopenastheNubanheavedonit.Adogbarkedsomewhereinthedistance,butIdoubtedanyfarmerwoulddaretherainonthestrengthofahound’sopinion.Wereeledinandfellintothehay.Eachlimbfeltleaden,I

wouldhavesobbedwiththetirednessifI’dletithaveitsway.“You’renotworriedthe

dream-witchwillcomeafteryouagain?”Iasked.“She’shardlygoingtobepleasedifherpresenttotheKinghasescaped.”Istifledayawn.“He,”saidtheNuban.“I

thinkit’sahe.”Ipursedmylips.Inmy

dreamsthewitcheswere

alwayswomen.They’dhideinadarkroomI’dnevernoticedbefore.AroomwhoseopendoorwaystoodoffthecorridorIhadtofollow.I’dpasstheentranceandtheskinonmybackwouldcrawl,invisiblewormswouldtingletheirwayacrossthebacksofmyarms.I’dseeher,sketchedbyshadows,herpalehandslikespiderswrithingfromblacksleeves.

Inthatmoment,whenItriedtorun,I’dbecomemired,asifIranthroughmolasses.I’dstruggle,tryingtoshout,vomitingsilence,aflyintheweb,andshewouldadvance,slow,inevitable,herfaceinchingintothelight.I’dseehereyes...andwakescreaming.“Soyou’renotworried

he’llcomeafteryouagain?”Iasked.

Thundercameinasuddenclap,shakingthebarn.“Hehastobeclose,”the

Nubansaid.“Hehastoknowwhereyouare.”IletgoofabreathIhadn’t

realizedI’dbeenkeeping.“He’llsendhishunterafter

usinstead,”theNubansaid.Iheardtherustleashepulledthehaydownonhimself.“That’sapity,”Isaid.It

hadbeenalongtimesinceI’d

dreamedofmyowndream-witch.Iratherlikedtheideathatshemightbechasingushere,tothisbarn,inthejawsofthestorm.Isettledbackintotheprickleofthehay.“I’llseeifIcandreamawitchtonight,yoursormine,Idon’tcare.AndifIdo,thistimeI’mnotrunninganywhere.I’mgoingtoturnaroundandgutthebitch.”

16

Fouryearsearlier

Thunderagain.Itheldmeforamoment.Ifeltitinmychest.Thenthelightning,spellingouttheworldinharshnewshapes.Isaw

visionsintheafter-images.Ababyshakenuntilthebloodcamefromitseyes.Childrendancinginafire.Anotherrumblerattledtheboards,andthedarknessreturned.Isatintheconfusion

betweensleepandthewakingworld,surroundedbythecreakofwood,theshakeandrattleofthewind.LightningstabbedagainandIsawtheinteriorofthecarriage,

Motheropposite,Williambesideher,curleduponthebench-seat,hiskneestohischest.“Thestorm!”Itwistedand

caughtthewindow.Theslatsresistedme,spittingrainasthewindwhistledoutside.“Shush,Jorg,”Mother

said.“Gobacktosleep.”Icouldn’tseeherinthe

dark,butthecarriageheldherscent.Rosesandlemon-grass.

“Thestorm.”IknewI’dforgottensomething.ThatmuchIremembered.“Justrainandwind.Don’t

letitfrightenyou,Jorg,love.”Diditfrightenme?I

listenedasthegustsrantheirclawsacrossthedoor.“Wehavetostayinthe

carriage,”shesaid.Ilettherollandrockofthe

carriagetakeme,huntingfor

thatmemory,tryingtojogitloose.“Sleep,Jorg.”Itwasmore

ofacommandthanarecommendation.HowdoessheknowI’mnot

asleep?LightningstrucksocloseI

couldhearthesizzle.Thelightcrossedherfaceinthreebars,makingsomethingferalofhereyes.“Wehavetostopthe

carriage.Wehavetogetoff.Wehaveto—”“Gotosleep!”Hervoice

carriedanedge.Itriedtostand,andfound

myselfweigheddown,asifIwerewadinginthethickestmud...ormolasses.“You’renotmymother.”“Stayinthecarriage,”she

said,hervoiceawhisper.Thetangofclovescutthe

darkness,abreathofmyrrh

beneathit,theperfumeofthegrave.Thestinkofitsmotheredallsound.Excepttheslowraspofherbreath.Ihuntedthedoorhandle

withblindfingers.InsteadofcoldmetalIfoundcorruption,thesoftnessoffleshturnedsourindeath.Ascreambrokefromme,butitcouldn’tpiercethesilence.Isawherinthenextflashofthestorm,skinpeeledfromthebone,

rawpitsforeyes.Feartookmystrength.I

feltitrunningdownmyleginahotflood.“CometoMother.”Fingers

liketwigsclosedaroundmyarmanddrewmeforwardintheblackness.Nothoughtswouldformin

theterrorthatheldme.WordstrembledonmylipsbutIhadnomindtoknowwhattheywouldbe.

“You’re...nother,”Isaid.Onemoreflash,revealing

herfaceaninchbeforemine.Onemoreflash,andinitIsawmymotherdying,bleedingintherainofawildnight,andmehungonthebriar,helplessinagripmadeofmorethanthorns.Heldbyfear.Acoldrageroseinme.

Fromthegut.Idrovemy

foreheadintotheruinofthemonster’sface,andtookthedoorhandlewithasuretythatneedednosight.“No!”AndIleaptintothestorm.Thethunderrolledloud

enoughtowakeeventhedeepestburied.Ijerkedintoasittingposition,confusedbythestinkofhayandtheprickleofstrawallaroundme.Thebarn!Iremembered

thebarn.Asinglepointof

illuminationbrokethenight.Alantern’sglow.Ithungfromabeamclosebythebarndoor.Afigure,aman,atallone,stoodinthefringesofthelight.TheNubanlayathisfeet,caughtinatroubledsleep.Imadetocryout,thenbit

mycheekhardenoughtostopmyself.Thecoppertangof

thebloodsharpenedawaytheremnantsofmydream.Themanheldthebiggest

crossbowI’deverseen.Withonehandhebegantowindbackthecable.Hetookhistime.Whenyou’rehuntingonbehalfofadream-witchIguessyou’reneverinarush.Unlessoneofyourvictimsescapeswhateverdreamshavebeensenttokeepthemsleeping...

Ireachedformyknife,andfoundnothing.Iguesseditlostalongwhateverpathmynightmarehadledmethroughthehay.Thelanternstruckagleamfromsomethingmetalbymyfeet.Abalinghook.Threemoreturnsonthatcrankandhe’dbedone.Itookthehook.Thestormhowlcovered

myapproach.Ididn’tsneak.Iwalkedacrossslowenoughto

besureofmyfooting,fastenoughtogiveillfortunenotimetoactagainstme.I’dthoughttoreacharound

andcutthebastard’sthroat,buthewastall,tootallforaten-year-old’sreach.Heliftedthecrossbowto

sightdownattheNuban.Waitwhenwaitingis

calledfor.That’swhatLundistusedtotellme.Butneverhesitate.

IhookedthehunterbetweenthelegsandyankedupashardasIcould.Wherethecrashofthunder

andtheroarofthewindhadfailed,thehunter’sscreamsucceeded.TheNubanwokeup.Andtohiscredittherewasnowonderingwherehewasorwhatwashappening.Hesurgedtohisfeetandhadafootofsteelthroughtheman’schestintwoheartbeats.

Westoodwiththehunterlyingbetweenus,eachwithourweaponblooded.TheNubanwipedhisblade

onthehunter’scloak.“That’sabigold

crossbow!”Itoeditacrossthefloorandmarvelledattheweightofit.TheNubanliftedthebow.

Heranhisfingersoverthemetalworkinlaidonthewood.“Mypeoplemade

this.”Hetracedthesymbolsandthefacesoffiercegods.“AndnowIoweyouanotherlife.”Heheftedthecrossbowandsmiled,histeethawhitelineinthelanternglow.“Onewillbeenough.”I

paused.“It’sCountRenarthathastodie.”Andthesmilelefthim.

17

Theoldcorridorsenfoldedmeandfouryearsbecameadream.Familiarturns,thesamevases,thesamesuitsofarmour,thesamepaintings,eventhesameguards.Fouryearsandeverythingwasthesame,exceptme.

Inthenichessmallsilverlampsburnedoilsqueezedfromwhalesindistantseas.Iwalkedfromonepooloflighttothenext,behindaguardwhosearmourbeggaredmyown.MakinandGomsthadbeenledtoseparatedestinations,andIwentalonetowhateverreceptionawaited.Theplacestillmademefeelsmall.Doorsbuiltforgiants,ceilingssoaringso

highthatamanwithalancecouldscarcelytouchthem.Wecametothewestwing,theroyalquarters.WouldFathermeetmehere?Mantomaninthearboretum?Soulsbaredbeneaththeplanetariumdome?Ihadimaginedhimseatedintheblackclawofhisthrone,broodingabovethecourt,andmeledtowardhimbetweenthemenoftheImperialGuard.

Ifollowedthesingleguard,feelingvaguelycheated.DidIwanttobesurroundedbyarmedmen?HadIgrownsodangerous?Tobeheapedwithchains?DidIwanthimtofearme?Fourteenyearsold,andtheKingofAncrathquakingbehindhisbodyguard?Ifeltfoolishforamoment.

Ibrushedahandoverthehiltofmysword.They’dcastthe

bladefromthemetalthatranthroughthecastlewalls.Atrueheirloom,withaheritageattheTallCastlepredatingminebyathousandyearsatleast.Iachedforaconfrontationthen.Voicesroseatthebackofmymind,clamouring,fightingoneagainsttheother.Theskinonmybacktingled,themusclebeneathtwitchedforaction.“Abath,PrinceJorg?”

Itwastheguardsman.Inearlydrewonhim.“No,”Isaid.Iforced

myselftocalmness.“I’llseetheKingnow.”“KingOlidanhasretired,

Prince,”theguardsaid.Washesmirkingatme?HiseyesheldanintelligenceIdidn’tassociatewiththepalaceguard.“Asleep?”Iwouldhave

givenayearofmylifetotake

thesurprisefromthosewords.IfeltlikeCaptainCoddinmusthave:thebuttofajokeIhadyettocomprehend.“Sageousawaitsyouinthe

library,myprince,”themansaid.Heturnedtogo,butIhadhimbythethroat.Asleep?Theywereplaying

withme,Fatherandthispetmagicianofhis.“Thisgame,”Isaid.“I

expectitwillprovideamusementtosomebody,but,ifyou...worryme...onemoretime,Iwillkillyou.Thinkonit.You’reapieceinsomebodyelse’sgame,andallyou’llearnfromitisaswordthroughthestomach,unlessyouredeemyourselfinthenexttwentyseconds.”Itwasadefeat,resortingto

crudethreatsinagameofsubtlety,butsometimesone

mustsacrificeabattletowinthewar.“Prince,I...Sageousis

waitingforyou...”IcouldseeI’dturnedhissmugsuperiorityintoterror.I’dsteppedoutsidetherulesofplay.Isqueezedhisthroatalittle.“WhywouldIwanttospeaktothis...Sageous?What’shetome?”“He—heholdstheKing’s

favour.Pl-please,Prince

Jorg.”Hegotthewordsoutpast

myfingers.Ittakesnogreatstrengthtothrottleamanifyouknowwheretogrip.Ilethimgoandhefell,

gasping.“Inthelibraryyousay?What’syourname,man?”“Yes,myprince,inthe

library.”Herubbedathisneck.“Robart.MynameisRobartHool.”

IstrodeoutacrosstheHallofSpears,anglingfortheleathereddoortothelibrary.Ipausedbeforeit,turningbacktoRobart.“Thereareturningpoints,Robart.Forksinthepathwefollowthroughourlives.Timesthatwelookbacktoandsay,‘Ifonly.’Thisisoneofthosetimes.It’snotoftenwegetthempointedouttous.Atthispointyou’lleitherdecidetohateme,orto

serveme.Considerthechoicecarefully.”Ithrewthelibrarydooropen.ItslammedbackintothewallandIwalkedthrough.Inmymindthelibrary

wallsstretchedtotheveryheavens,thickwithbooks,pregnantwiththewrittenword.Ilearnedtoreadatthreeyearsofage.IwastalkingwithSocratesatseven,learningformand

thingfromAristotle.ForthelongesttimeIhadlivedinthislibrary.Memorydwarfedreality:theplacelookedsmallnow,smallanddusty.“I’veburnedmorebooks

thanthis!”Isaid.Sageoussteppedoutfrom

theaislegivenovertoancientphilosophy.HewasyoungerthanIexpected,fortyatthemost,wearingjustawhitecloth,liketheRomantogara.

Hisskinheldtheduskyhueofthemiddle-lands,maybeIndusorPersia,butIcouldseeitonlyintherarespotsthetattooist’sneedlehadn’tfound.Heworethetextofasmallbookonhislivinghide,cutthereintheflowingscriptofthemathmagicians.Hiseyes—well,Iknowwe’resupposedtocowerbeneaththegazeofpotentmen,buthiseyesweremild.They

remindedmeofthecowsontheCastleRoad,brownandplacid.Hisscrutinywasthethingthatcut.Somehowthosemildeyesdugin.Perhapsthescriptbeneaththemborethepower.AllIcansayisthat,foratimeuncounted,Icouldseenothingbuttheheathen’seyes,hearnothingbuthisbreath,stirnomusclebutmyheart.

Heletmego,likeafishthrownbackintotheriver,toosmallforthepot.Westoodfacetoface,inchesapart,andI’dnomemoryofclosingthegap.ButI’dcometohim.Westoodamongthebooks.Amongthewisewordsoftenthousandyears.Platotomyleft,copied,copied,andcopiedagain.The“moderns”tomyright,Russell,Popper,Xiang,and

therest.Asmallvoiceinsideme,deepinside,calledforblood.Buttheheathenhadtakenthefirefromme.“Fathermustdependupon

you,Sageous,”Isaid.Itwistedmyfingers,wantingtowantmysword.“Tohaveapaganatcourtmustvexthepriests.IfthepopedaredleaveRomathesedays,she’dbeheretocurseyoursoultoeternalhellfire!”Ihad

nothingbutdogmawithwhichtobeathim.Sageoussmiled,afriendly

smile,likeI’djustrunanerrandforhim.“PrinceJorg,welcomehome.”Hehadnorealaccent,butheranhiswordsoutfluidandmusical,likeaSaracenoraMoor.Hestoodnotallerthanme,

infactIprobablyhadaninchonhim.Hewasleantoo,soIcouldhavetakenhimtothe

floorthereandthen,andchokedthelifeoutofhim.Onemurderousthoughtbubbledupafteranother,andleakedaway.“There’salotofyour

fatherinyou,”hesaid.“Haveyougothimtamed

too?”Iasked.“Onedoesn’ttameaman

likeOlidanAncrath.”Hisfriendlysmiletookanedgeofamusement.Iwantedtoknow

thejoke.Hecouldmanagemebutnotmyfather?OrhecouldmanipulatetheKingandchosetocoverthefactwithasmirk?Iimaginedtheheathen’s

tattooedheadshornfromhisshoulders,hissmilefrozenandbloodpumpingfromthestumpofhisneck.InthatinstantIreachedformyswordandthrewallmywillbehindtheaction.The

pommelfeltcoldbeneathmytouch.Icurledmyfingersaroundthehilt,butbeforeIcouldsqueezethemtight,myhandfellawaylikeadeadthing.Sageousraisedabrowat

that.He’dhadthemshavedlikehishead,anddrawnbackin.Hetookastepbackward.“You’reaninteresting

youngman,PrinceJorg.”Hiseyeshardened.Mildone

moment,andinthenext,deadasflint.“Weshallhavetofindoutwhatmakesyoutick,yes?I’llhaveRobartescortyoutoyourchamber,youmustbetired.”Allthetimehespoke,thefingersofhisrighthandtracedwordsintheflowingscriptacrosshisleftarm,brushingoveronesymboljumpinghighertoablackcrescentmoon,underliningaphrase,

underliningitagain.Ididfeeltired.Ifeltleadineverylimb,pullingmedown.“Robart!”hecalledout

loudenoughforthecorridor.Helookedbacktome,

mildagain.“Iexpectyou’llhavedreams,Prince,aftersolongaway.”Hisfingersmovedovernewlines,lefthand,rightarm.Hetracedwordsblackerthannightacrosstheveinsinhiswrist.

“Dreamstellamanwhoheis.”Istruggledtokeepmyeyes

open.OnSageous’sneck,justtotheleftofhisAdam’sapple,amidallthetight-packedscrawl,wasaletter,biggerthantherest,curledandrecurledsoitlookedlikeaflower.Touchtheflower,I

thought.Touchtheprettyflower.Andasifbymagic,

mytreacheroushandmoved.Ittookhimbysurprise,myfingersathisthroat.Iheardthedooropenbehindme.He’sskinny,Ithought.So

skinny.IwonderifIcouldclosemyhandaroundhisneck.Iadmittednohintofviolence,justcuriosity.Andthereitwas,myhandaroundhisneck.IheardRobart’ssuddenintakeofbreath.Sageousstoodfrozen,his

mouthhalfopen,asifhecouldn’tbelieveit.Icouldbarelystand,I

couldhardlykeeptheyawningfrommyvoice,butIheldhiseyeandlethimthinkthatthepressureIputonhimwasathreat,andnottokeepmefromfalling.“Mydreamsaremyown,

heathen,”Isaid.“Prayyou’renotinthem.”Iturnedthen,beforeIfell,

andstrodepastRobart.HecaughtupintheHallofSpears.“I’veneverseenanyone

layhandonSageous,myprince.”Myprince.Thatwasbetter.

Therewasadmirationinhisvoice,maybegenuine,maybenot,Iwastootiredtocare.“He’sadangerousman,his

enemiesdieintheirsleep.Thatorthey’rebroken.Lord

Jaleleftthecourttwodaysafterdisagreeingwiththepaganinfrontofyourfather.Theysayhecan’tfeedhimselfnow,andspendshisdayssinginganoldnurseryrhymeoverandover.”IreachedtheWestStair,

Robartprattlingbesideme.Hebrokeoffallofasudden.“YourchamberisofftheRedCorridor,myprince.”Hestoppedandstudiedhisboots.

“ThePrincesshasyourformerchamber.”Princess?Ididn’tcare.

Tomorrow,tomorrowIwouldfindout.Ilethimleadmetomyroom.OneoftheguestroomsofftheRedCorridor.ThechambercouldhavehousedmanyatavernI’dsleptin,butitwasastudiedinsultnonetheless.Aroomforacountrybaronordistantcousinvisitingfromthe

protectorates.Istoppedatthedoor,

reelingwithexhaustion.Sageous’sspellbitdeeperandmystrengthleftmelikebloodfromslicedveins.“Itoldyouitwastimeto

choose,Robart,”Isaid.Iforcedthewordsoutonebyone.“GetMakinBorthahere.Lethimguardmydoorthisnight.Timetochoose.”Ididn’twaitforareply.If

Ihad,he’dhavehadtocarrymetobed.Ipushedthedoorandhalf-staggered,half-fell,intothechamber.Icollapsedbackagainstthedoor,closingit,andslidtothefloor.ItfeltlikeIkeptonsliding,deeperanddeeper,intoanendlesswell.

18

Iwokeupwiththatsuddenconvulsionyougetwheneverymuscleyouownsuddenlyrealizesit’sdroppedoffonduty.NextcametheshockofrealizinghowdeeplyI’dbeenasleep.Youdon’tsleeplikethatontheroad,not

ifyouwanttowakeupagain.Foramomentthedarknesswouldyieldnothingtomyconfusion.Ireachedformyswordandfoundonlysoftsheets.TheTallCastle!Itcamebacktome.Irememberedthepaganandhisspell.Irolledtotheright.I

alwaysleftmygearonmyrightside.Nothingbutmoremattress,softanddeep.I

mighthavebeenblindforallthehelpmyeyesgave.Iguessedtheshutterswereshuttight,fornottheslightestwhisperofstarlightreachedme.Itwasquiettoo.Ireachedoutfortheedgeofthebed,anddidn’tfindit.Awidebed,Ithought,tryingtofindsomehumourinthesituation.IletgothebreathI’dbeen

holding,theoneIsuckedin

sofastwhenIwoke.Whatwasitthatmademestart?Whatdraggedmeoutofthepagan’sspellinthisohsocomfortablebed?Ipulledmyhandback,drewmykneestomychest.Somebodyhadputmetobedandtakenmyclothes.NotMakin,he’dnotleavemenakedagainstthenight.ThatsomebodyandIwouldbehavingadiscussionsoonenough.Butitcould

waituntilmorning.Ijustwantedtosleep,toletthedaycome.Onlysleephadkickedme

out,anditwasn’tabouttoletmebackin.SoIlaythere,nakedinthestrangebed,andwonderedwheremyswordwas.Thenoisecamesoquietat

firstIcouldbelieveIimaginedit.Istaredblindintothedarknessandletmy

earssuckinthesilence.Itcameagain,softasthewhisperoffleshonstone.Icouldheartheghostofasound,abreathbeingdrawn.Ormaybejustanightbreezefingeringitswaythroughtheshutters.Iceranupmyspine,

tinglingonmyshoulders.Isatup,bitingbacktheurgetospeak,toshowbravadototheunseenterrors.I’mnotsix

yearsold,Itoldmyself.I’vemadethedeadrun.Ithrewthesheetsbackandstoodup.Ifthepagan’shorrorwaswaitinginthedarkness,thensheetswouldbenoshield.Withmyhandsheldupbeforeme,Iwalkedforward,findingfirsttheelusiveedgeofthebed,andthenthewall.Iturnedandfollowedit,fingerstrailingthestonework.Somethingwenttumblingand

brokewithanexpensivecrash.Ibarkedmyshinsonanunseenobstacle,nearlygroinedmyselfonasideboardofsomekind,thenfoundtheshutterslats.Ifumbledwiththeshutter

catch.Itdefiedmemaddeningly,asthoughmyfingerswerefrost-clumsy.Theskinonmybackcrawled.Iheardfootstepsdrawingcloser.Ihauledonthe

shutterswithallmystrength.EverymoveImadeseemedslowandfeeble,asthoughImovedthroughmolasses,likeinthosedreamswherethewitchchasesyouandyoucan’trun.Theshuttersgavewithout

warning.TheyflewbackandIfoundthatIwasstandinghighabovetheexecutionyard,drenchedinmoonlight.Ispunaround.Slow,too

slow.Andfoundnothing.Justaroomofsilverandshadows.Thewindowthrewthe

moonlightonthewalltomyright.Myshadowreachedforwardinthearchofthewindowandfellatthefeetofatallportrait.Afulllengthpictureofawoman.Iwentnumb:myfacefeltlikeamask.Iknewthepicture.Mother.Motherinthegreathall.Motherinawhitedress,

tallandicyinherperfection.Shesaidsheneverlikedthatpicture,thattheartisthadmadehertoodistant,toomuchthequeen.OnlyWilliamsoftenedit,shesaid.Ifshe’dnothadWilliamhuggingtoherskirts,shewouldhavegiventhepictureaway,shesaid.Butshecouldn’tthrowlittleWilliamaway.Ipulledmyeyesfromher

face,paleinthesilverlight.Sheloomedaboveme,tallinlife,tallerintheportrait.Herdressfellincascadesoflace-froth:theartisthadcaughtitwell.Hemadeitlookreal.Theopenshuttersletina

chillandIfeltacoldbeyondanyautumnfrost.Myskinroseintinybumps.Shecouldn’tthrowWilliamaway.OnlyWilliamwasn’tthereanymore...Itookastep

backtowardtheopenwindow.“SweetJesus...”Iblinked

awaytears.Mother’seyesfollowed

me.“Jesuswasn’tthere,Jorg,”

shesaid.“Nobodycametosaveus.Youwatchedus,Jorg.Youwatched,butyoudidn’tcometohelp.”“No.”Ifeltthewindowsill

coldagainstthebackofmy

knees.“Thethorns...thethornsheldme.”Shelookedatme,eyes

silverwiththemoon.ShesmiledandIthoughtforamomentshewouldforgiveme.Thenshescreamed.Shedidn’tscreamthescreamsshe’dmadewhentheCount’smenrapedher.Icouldhavestoodthat.Maybe.Shescreamedthescreamsshemadewhentheykilled

William.Ugly,hoarse,animalscreams,tornfromherperfectpaintedface.Ihowledback.Thewords

burstfromme.“Thethorns!Itried,Mother.Itried.”Heroseupfrombehindthe

bedthen.William,sweetWilliamwiththesideofhisheadcavedin.Thebloodclottedblackonhisgoldenhair.Theeyethatsidewasgone,buttheotherheldme.

“Youletmedie,Jorg,”hesaid.Hespokeitpastabubblinginhisthroat.“Will.”Icouldn’tsayany

more.Heliftedahandtome,

whitewiththetricklesofblooddarkestcrimson.Thewindowyawned

behindmeandImadetothrowmyselfbackthroughit,butasIdidsomethingjoltedmeforward.Istaggeredand

rightedmyself.Willstoodthere,silentnow.“Jorg!Jorg!”Ashout

reachedme,distantbutsomehowfamiliar.Ilookedbacktowardthe

windowandthedizzyingfall.“Jump,”saidWilliam.“Jump!”Mothersaid.ButMotherdidn’tsound

likeMotheranymore.“Jorg!PrinceJorg!”The

shoutcameloudernow,anda

moreviolentjoltthrewmetothefloor.“Getoutofthefucking

way,boy.”IrecognizedMakin’svoice.Hestoodframedinthedoorway,lamplightbehind.AndsomehowIlayonthefloorathisfeet.Notbythewindow.Notnaked,butinmyarmourstill.“Youwerejammedup

againstthedoor,Jorg,”

Makinsaid.“ThisRobartfellowtoldmetocomerunning,andhereyouarescreamingbehindthedoor.”Heglancedaround,lookingforthedanger.“IranfromtheSouthWingforyourblastednightmaredidI?”Heshovedthedooropenwiderandaddedabelated,“Prince.”Igottomyfeet,feelingas

ifI’dbeenrolledonbyFatBurlow.Therewasno

paintingonthewall,noMother,noWillbehindthebed.Idrewmysword.Ineeded

tokillSageous.IwanteditsobadlyIcouldtasteit,likeblood,hotandsaltinmymouth.“Jorg?”Makinasked.He

lookedworried,asifhewaswonderingifI’dgonemad.Imovedtowardtheopen

door.Makinsteppedtoblock

me.“Youcan’tgoouttherewithadrawnsword,Jorg,theguardwouldhavetostopyou.”Hedidn’tstandastalloras

wideasRike,butMakinwasabigman,broadintheshoulderandstrongerthanamanshouldbe.Ididn’tthinkIcouldtakehimdownwithoutkillinghim.“It’sallaboutsacrifice,

Makin,”Isaid.Iletmysword

drop.“Prince?”Hefrowned.“I’mgoingtoletthat

tattooedbastardlive,”Isaid.“Ineedhim.”Iglimpsedmymotheragain,fading.“Ineedtounderstandwhatgameisbeingplayedouthere.Whoexactlythepiecesareandwhotheplayersare.”Makin’sfrowndeepened.

“Yougetsomesleep,Jorg.Inthebedthistime.”He

glancedbackintothecorridor.“Doyouwantsomelightinthere?”Ismiledatthat.“No,”I

said.“I’mnotafraidofthedark.”

19

Iwokeearly.Agreylightthroughtheshuttersshowedmetheroomforthefirsttime:big,well-furnished,huntingtapestriesonthewalls.Iuncoiledmyfingersfrommyswordhilt,stretchedandyawned.Itdidn’tfeel

right,thisbed.Itwastoosoft,tooclean.WhenIthrewthecoversbacktheyknockedtheservant-bellfromthebedsidetable.Ithittheflagstoneswithaprettytinklingthenbouncedontoarugandlostitsvoice.Nobodycame.Thatsuitedmefine:I’ddressedmyselfforfouryears.Hell,I’drarelyundressed!AndwhatragsIhadwouldbeputtoshamebythemeanestof

servantsmocks.Evenso.Nobodycame.Iworemyarmouroverthe

greytattersofmyshirt.Alooking-glasslayonthesideboard.Iletitlietherefacedown.Aquickrunoffingersthroughhairinsearchofanylousefatenoughtobefound,andIwasreadytobreakmyfast.FirstIthrewtheshutters

open.Nofumblingwiththe

catchthistime.Ilookedoutovertheexecutionyard,asquareboundedbytheblankwallsoftheTallCastle.Kitchen-boysandmaidshastenedacrossthebleakcourtyard,goingabouttheirvariousquests,blindtothepalewashoftheskysohighabovethem.Iturnedfromthewindow

andsetoffonmyownlittlequest.Everyprinceknowsthe

kitchensbetterthananyotherquarterofhiscastle.Whereelsecansomuchadventurebefound?Whereelseisthetruthspokensoplain?WilliamandIlearnedahundredtimesmoreinthekitchensoftheTallCastlethanfromourbooksonLatinandstrategy.We’dstealink-handedfromLundist’sstudyandsprintthroughlongcorridors,leapingdownthe

stairstoomanyatatime,toreachtherefugeofthekitchens.Iwalkedthosesame

corridorsnow,illateaseintheconfinedspace.I’dspenttoolongunderwideskies,livingbloody.Welearnedaboutdeathinthekitchenstoo.Wewatchedthecookturnlivechickenstodeadmeatwithatwistofhishands.WewatchedEthelthe

Breadpluckthefathens,leavingthemnakedindeath,readyforgutting.Yousoonlearnthere’snoeleganceordignityindeathifyouspendtimeinthecastlekitchens.Youlearnhowuglyitis,andhowgoodittastes.Iturnedthecorneratthe

endoftheRedCorridor,toofullofmemoriestopayattention.AllIsawwasafigurebearingdownonme.

Instinctslearnedontheroadtookover.BeforeIhadtimetoregisterthelonghairandsilks,Ihadheragainstthewall,ahandacrosshermouthandmyknifetoherthroat.Wewerefacebyfaceandmycaptiveheldmystare,eyesanunrealgreenlikestainedglass.Iletmysnarlrelaxintoasmileandunclenchedmyteeth.Isteppedback,lettingheroffthewall.

“Yourpardon,mylady,”Isaid,andsketchedherashallowbow.Shewastall,nearlymyheight,andsurelynotmanyyearsmysenior.Shegavemeafiercegrin

andwipedhermouthwiththebackofherhand.Itcameawaybloody,fromabittentongue.Godsbutshewasgoodtolookat.Shehadastrongface,sharpinthenoseandcheekbonesbutrichin

thelips,allframedbythedarkestredhair.“Lord,howyoustink,

boy,”shesaid.Shesteppedaroundme,asifshewascheckingahorseatmarket.“You’reluckySirGalenisn’twithme,oraskivvywouldbepickingyourheadoffthegroundaboutnow.”“SirGalen?”Iasked.“I’ll

besuretowatchoutforhim.”Shehaddiamondsaroundher

neckonacomplexwebofgold.Spanardwork:noneontheHorseCoastcouldmakeathinglikethat.“Itwouldn’tdofortheKing’sgueststogoaboutkillingoneanother.”Itookherforthedaughterofamerchantcomea-toadyingtotheKing.Averyrichmerchant,ormaybethedaughterofsomecountorearlfromtheeast:therewasaneasternburrtohervoice.

“You’reaguest?”Sheraisedabrowatthat,andveryprettyitlookedtoo.“Ithinknot.Youlooktohavestolenin.Bytheprivychutetojudgebythesmell.Idon’tthinkyoucouldhaveclimbedthewalls,notinthatclunkyoldarmour.”Iclickedmyheelstogether,

likethetableknights,andofferedheranarm.“Iwasonmywaytobreakfastinthe

kitchens.Theyknowmethere.Perhapsyou’dliketoaccompanymeandcheckmycredentials,lady?”Shenodded,ignoringmy

arm.“Icansendakitchen-boyfortheguardsandhaveyouarrested,ifwedon’tmeetanyontheway.”Sowewalkedsidebyside

throughthecorridorsanddownoneflightofstairsafteranother.

“MybrotherscallmeJorg,”Isaid.“Howareyoucalled,lady?”Ifoundthecourt-speakawkwardonthetongue,especiallywithmymouthsounaccountablydry.Shesmelledlikeflowers.“Youcancallme‘my

lady,’”shesaid,andwrinkledhernoseagain.Wepassedtwoofthehouseguardsintheirfire-bronzeplateandplumes.Bothofthemstudied

measifIwasaturdescapedfromtheprivy,butshesaidnothingandtheyletuspass.Wepassedthestorerooms

wherethesaltbeefandpickledporklayinbarrels,stackedtotheceiling.“Mylady”seemedtoknowtheway.Sheshotmeaglancewiththoseemeraldeyesofhers.“Sodidyoucomehereto

steal,orformurderwiththat

daggerofyours?”sheasked.“Perhapsabitofboth.”I

smiled.Agoodquestionthough.I

couldn’tsaywhyI’dcome,otherthanIfeltsomebodydidn’twantmeto.EversincethatmomentwhenIfoundFatherGomstinhiscage,eversincethatghostranitscoursethroughmeandmythoughtsturnedtotheTallCastle,itfeltasthough

someoneweresteeringmeaway.AndIdon’ttakedirection.WepassedShortBridge,

littlemorethanthreemahoganyplanksoverthegreatironvalvesthatcouldsealthelowerlevelsfromthecastlemain.Thedoors,steelandthreefeetthick,wouldslideupfromthegapingslotinthecorridorfloor,soTutorLundisttoldme.Liftedonold

magic.I’dneverseenthemclose.Torchesburnedhere,nosilverlampsfortheservantlevels.Thestinkoftar-smokemadememoreathomethananythingyet.“PerhapsI’llstay,”Isaid.Thekitchenarchlayjust

aheadofus.IcouldseeDrane,theassistantcook,wrestlinghalfahogthroughthedoors.“Wouldn’tyourbrothers

missyou?”sheasked,playfulnow.Shetouchedherfingerstothecornerofhermouth,wheretheredpatternofmyfingershadstartedtorise.Somethinginhergesturemademerisetoo.Ishrugged,thenpausedas

Iworkedthestrapsofthevambraceovermyleftforearm.“Thereareplentyofbrothersontheroad,”Isaid.“Letmeshowyouthekindof

brothersImeant...”“Here,”shesaid,impatient.Thetorchlightburnedin

theredofherhair.Sheundidtheclaspswithdeftfingers.Thegirlknewarmour.PerhapsSirGalenwasformorethanjustbeheadingill-manneredlouts?“Whatthen?”sheasked.

“I’veseenarmsbefore,thoughmaybenotonesodirty.”

IgrinnedatthatandturnedmyarmoversoshecouldseetheBrotherhoodbrandacrossmywrist.Threeuglybandsofburn-scar.Alookofdistastefurrowedherbrow.“You’reasell-sword?Youtakeyourprideinthat?”“Moreprideinthatthanin

whattruefamilyIhaveleft.”Ifeltabiteofanger.Ifeltlikesendingthisdistractingmerchant’sdaughteronher

way,makingherrun.“Whatarethese?”She

reachedouttorunherfingersfromthebranduptothesmallofmyelbowwherethearmourstoppedher.“Jesu!There’smorescarthanboyunderthisdirt!”Athertouchathrillran

throughme,andIpulledaway.“Ifellinathornbushwhen...whenIwasachild,”Isaid,myvoicetoo

sharp.“Somethornbush!”she

said.Ishrugged.“Ahook-briar.”Shetwistedhermouthinto

an“ouch.”“You’vegottoliestillinoneofthose,”shesaid,hereyesstillonmyarm.“Everyoneknowsthat.Looksasifittoreyoutothebone.”“Iknowthat.Now.”Iset

offforthekitchendoors,walkingfast.

Sherantocatchme,silksswirling.“Whydidyoustruggle?Whydidn’tyoustop?”“Iwasstupid,”Isaid.“I

wouldn’tstrugglenow.”Iwantedthesillybitchtoleave.Ididn’tevenfeelhungryanymore.Myarmburnedwiththe

memoryofherfingers.Shewasright,thethornshadcutmedeep.Everyfewweeks

formorethanayearthepoisonwouldflareinthewoundsandrunthroughmyblood.WhenthepoisonraninmeI’ddonethingsthatscaredeventhebrothers.Dranelumberedout

throughthedoorsjustasIreachedthem.Hepulledupshort,andwipedhishandsonthesoiledwhiteapronstretchedoverhisbelly.“Wh—”Helookedpastmeand

hiseyeswidened.“Princess!”Heseemedsuddenlyterrified,quiveringlikeablobofjelly.“Princess!Wh-whatareyoudoinginthekitchens?It’snoplaceforaladyinsilksandall.”“Princess?”Iturnedto

stareather.I’dleftmymouthopen,soIclosedit.Shegavemeasmilethat

leftmewonderingifIwantedtoslapitoffher,orkissit.

BeforeIcoulddecide,aheavyhandlandedonmyshoulder,andDraneturnedmeround.“Andwhat’saruffianlikeyoudoingleadingherhighnessastray...”Thequestiondiedinhisthroat.Hisfatfacecrinkledupandhetriedtospeakagain,butthewordswouldn’tcome.Heletmegoandfoundhisvoice.“Jorg?LittleJorg?”Tearsstreameddownhischeeks.

WillandIhadwatchedthemanthrottleafewchickensandbakeafewpies:therewasnocallforhimtostartblubbingoverme.Ilethimofftheembarrassmentthough,he’dgivenmethechancetoseeherroyalhighnesslooksurprised.Igrinnedatherandgaveacourtbow.“Princess,eh?SoIguess

thatmeanstheroad-trashyou

wantedtohavethepalaceguardsarrestisinfactyourstep-brother.”Sherecoveredher

composurequickly.I’llgiveherthat.“Actually,thatwouldmake

youmynephew,”shesaid.“Yourfathermarriedmyoldersistertwomonthsago.I’myourauntKatherine.”

20

Wesatatthelongtrestlewherethekitchenskivviesatetheirmeals,AuntKatherineandI.Theservantsclearedthelowvaultandbroughtinmorelight,candlesofeverylengthandgirthinclayholders.Theywatchedfrom

thedoorwaysateitherend,ashabbycrowdgrinningandbobbingasthoughitwasaholydayorahighday,andwewerethemummerstoentertainthem.Dranehoveintoviewandcrestedthroughtheskivvieslikeabargethroughwater.Hebroughtfreshbread,honeyinabowl,goldenbutter,andsilverknives.“Thisistheplacetoeat,”I

said.IkeptmyeyesonKatherine.Shedidn’tseemtomind.“Breadhotfromtheoven.”ItsteamedwhenItoreitopen.Heavenmustsmelllikefreshbread.“IknewImissedyouforareason,Drane.”Icalledthewordsovermyshoulder.Iknewthefatcookwouldbaskinthatforayear.Ihadn’tmissedhim.Ihadn’tsparedhimbutonethoughtforevery

hundredtimesIdreamedofhispies.InfactI’dstruggledtorememberhisnamewhenIsawhiminthedoorway.Butsomethingaboutthegirlmademewanttobethekindofmanwhowouldremember.Thefirstbitewokemy

hungerandItoreattheloafasthoughitwereahaunchofvenisonandmehuddledontheroadwiththebrothers.Katherinepausedtowatch,

herknifesuspendedabovethehoneybowl,herlipstwitchingwithasmile.“Mmmfflg.”Ichewedand

swallowed.“What?”Idemanded.“She’sprobablywondering

ifyou’llgounderthetablewhenthebread’sgoneandwrestlethedogsforbones.”Makinhadcomeupbehindmeunnoticed.“Damnbutyou’dmakea

goodfootpad,SirMakin.”Iswungroundtofindhimstandingoverme,hisarmourgleaming.“Amaninplate-mailshouldhavethedecencytoclank.”“Iclankedplenty,Prince,”

hesaid.Heshowedmeanannoyingsmile.“Youhadyourmindonmorepressingmattersmaybe?”HebowedtowardKatherine.“Mylady.Ihaven’thadthehonour?”

Sheextendedahandtohim.“PrincessKatherineApScorron.”Makinraisedabrowat

that.Hetookherhandandbowedagain,muchmoredeeply,liftingherfingerstohislips.Hehadthicklips,sensuous.He’dwashedhisfaceandhishairgleamedasmuchashisarmour,coal-blackandcurled.Hecleanedupwell,andforthesmallest

momentIhatedhimwithoutreservation.“Takeaseat,”Isaid.“I’m

suretheexcellentDranecanfindmorebread.”Heletgoofherhand.Too

slowlyformyliking.“Sadly,myprince,dutyratherthanhungerbringsmetothekitchens.IthoughtImightfindyouhere.You’resummonedtothethrone-room.Theremustbea

hundredsquireshuntingthehallsforyou.Youalso,Princess.”Hefavouredherwithanappreciativestare.“ImetafellownamedGalensearchingforyou.”Somethingtightlacedthoselastwords.Makindidn’tlikeSirGalenanymorethanIdid.Andhe’dmettheman.Itookthebreadwithme.It

wastoogoodtoleave.Wefoundourwayback

aboveground.TheTallCastleappearedtohavewokenupduringmytriptothekitchens.Squiresandmaidsranthiswayandthat.Plumedguardspassedbyintwosandfives,boundfortheirduties.Weskirtedalordinhisfursandgoldchain,girdedbyflunkies,leavinghimwithhisastonishment,hisbowing,andhis“Goodmorning,Princess!”

BycorridorandhallwereachedTorrentVault,theantechamberbeforethethrone-roomwherethetourneyarmourofpastkingslinedthewallslikehollowknightsstandingsilentvigil.“PrinceHonorousJorg

Ancrath,andthePrincessKatherine,”Makinannouncedustotheguardsbeforethedoors.Heplacedmebeforetheprincess.Asmallmatter

ontheroad,butatouchthatspokevolumesintheTorrentVault.Hereistheheirtothethrone,lethimin.Thecrestedguardsmen

flankingthehallwaystoodasstillasthearmouronthestandsbehindthem.Theyfollowedusonlywiththeireyes,gauntletedhandskeptfoldedonthepommelsoftheirgreatswords,setpointtofloor.Thetwotableknights

atthethrone-roomdoorsexchangedaglance.TheypausedforamomenttobowtoKatherine,thensettoworkdrawingthegreatdoorsopenwideenoughtoadmitus.Irecognizedoneofthembythecoatofarmsonhisbreastplate,hornsaboveanelm.SirReilly.He’dturnedgreyintheyearsI’dbeengone.Hestruggledwithhisdoor,strainingtomovethe

oakinitsbronzecladding.Thedoorsparted.OurnarrowviewgrewfromasliverofwarmlighttoawindowonaworldIonceknew.TheCourtoftheAncrathkings.“Princess?”Itookher

hand,holdingithigh,andwewalkedthrough.ThementhatbuilttheTall

Castlelackednothinginskill,andeverythinginimagination.Theirwalls

mightremainfortenthousandyears,buttheywouldholdnoartistry.Thethrone-roomwasawindowlessbox.Aboxonehundredfeetoneverysidemaybe,andwithatwenty-footceilingtodwarfthecourtiers,butaboxnonetheless.Elaboratewoodengalleriesforthemusiciansmutedtheharshcorners,andtheKing’sdais

addedacertainsplendour.Ikeptmyeyesfromthethrone.“ThePrincessKatherine

ApScorron,”theheraldcalled.NomentionofpoorJorgy.

Noheraldwoulddaresuchaslightwithoutinstruction.Wecrossedthewidefloor,

ourpacemeasured,watchedbytheguardsmenatthewalls.Menwithcrossbowsbythewallstoleftandright,

swordsmenattheplinthandbythedoor.Imighthavebeen

nameless,butmyarrivalhadcertainlyrousedsomeinterest.Inadditiontotheguardsmenanddespitetheearlyhour,atleastahundredcourtiersformedouraudience.Theywaitedattendanceonthethrone,millingaroundtheloweststepsintheirvelvets.Iletmy

eyesstrayacrosstheglitteringcrowd,pausingtolingeronthefinestjewels.Istillhadmyroad-habitsandmadementaltallyoftheirworth.Anewchargeronthatcountess’sfatbosomalone.Thatlord’schainofofficecouldbuytensuitsofscalearmour.Therewassurelyafinelongbowandaponyineachofhisrings.IhadtoremindmyselfIplayedfor

newstakesnow.Sameoldgame,newstakes.Nothigher,butdifferent.Thegentlechatterofthe

courtroseandfellasweapproached.Thesofthubbubofknife-edgedcomments,damagingsarcasm,honeyedinsults.HerethesharpintakeofbreathatthePrincecomingtocourtstillwearingtheroad,therethemockinglaughterhalf-hiddenbehindasilk

handkerchief.Iletmyselflookathim

then.Fouryearshadwroughtno

changeinmyfather.Hesatonthehigh-backedthrone,hunchedinawolf-skinrobeedgedwithsilver.He’dwornthesamerobeonthedayIleft.TheAncrathcrownrestedonhisbrow:awarriorcrown,anironbandsetwithrubies,confiningblackhair

streakedwiththesamegreyastheiron.Tohisleft,intheconsortchair,thenewqueensat.ShehadKatherine’slooks,thoughsofter,withawebofsilverandmoonstonestotameherhair.Anysignofherpregnancylayhidbeneaththeivoryfrothofhergown.Betweenthethronesgrew

amagnificenttree,wroughtallofglass,itsleavestheemeraldofKatherine’seyes,

wideandthinandmany.Itreachedaslenderninefeetinheight,itstwigsandbranchesgnarledandvitreous,brownascaramel.I’dneverseenthelikebefore.IwonderedifitmightbetheQueen’sdowry.Surelyithadtheworth.Sageousstoodbesidethe

glasstree,inthedappledgreenlightbeneathitsleaves.He’dabandonedthesimplewhitehe’dwornwhenfirst

wemetinfavourofblackrobes,highinthecollar,witharopeofobsidianplatesabouthisneck.Imethiseyesasweapproached,andmanufacturedasmileforhim.Thecourtiersdrewback

beforeus,Makintothefore,Katherineandmehandinhand.Theperfumesoflordsandladiestickledatmynose:lavenderandorangeoil.Ontheroad,shithasthedecency

tostink.Onlytwostepsdownfrom

thethroneatallknightstoodinmagnificentplate,theironworkedoverwithfire-bronze,twindragonscoilingonhisbreastplateinacrimsoninferno.“SirGalen.”Makinhissed

thewordsbackatme.IglancedatKatherineand

foundhersmileunreadable.Galenwatcheduswithhot

blueeyes.Ilikedhimalittlebetterforwearinghishostilitysoplainly.HehadtheblondehairofaTeuton,hisfeaturessquareandhandsome.Hewasoldthough.AsoldasMakin.Thirtysummersattheleast.SirGalenmadenomoveto

letMakinpast.Westoppedfivestepsdown.“Father,”Isaid.Inmy

head,I’dmademyspeecha

hundredtimesbutsomehowtheoldbastardmanagedtostealthewordsfrommytongue.Thesilencestretchedbetweenus.“Ihope—”Istartedagainbuthecutoverme.“SirMakin,”Fathersaid,

notevenlookingatme.“WhenIsendthecaptainofthepalaceguardouttoretrieveaten-year-oldchild,Iexpecthimtoreturnby

nightfall.Perhapsadayorthreemightsufficeifthechildprovedparticularlyelusive.”Fatherraisedhislefthandfromthearmofthethrone,justbyaninchortwobutenoughtocuehisaudience.Ascatteredtitteringsoundedamongtheladies,cutoffwhenhisfingersreturnedtotheiron-woodofthechair.Makinbowedhisheadand

saidnothing.

“Aweekortwoonsuchataskwouldsignifyincompetence.Morethanthreeyearsspeaksoftreason.”Makinlookedupatthat.

“Never,myking!Nevertreason.”“Weoncehadreasonto

consideryoufitforhighoffice,SirMakin,”Fathersaid,hisvoiceascoldashiseyes.“So,youmayexplain

yourself.”Thesweatgleamedon

Makin’sbrow.He’dhavegonethroughthisspeechasmanytimesasIhadmine.He’dprobablylostitjustasprofoundly.“ThePrincehasallthe

resourcefulnessonemighthopeforintheheirtothethrone,”Makinbegan.IsawtheQueenfrownathisturnofphrase.EvenFather’smouth

tightenedandheglancedatme,fleetingandunreadable.“WhenatlastIfoundhimwewereinhostilelands...Jaseth...morethanthreehundredmilestothesouth.”“IknowwhereJasethis,

SirMakin,”Fathersaid.“Donotpresumetolecturemeongeography.”Makininclinedhishead.

“Yourmajestyhasmanyenemies,asdoallgreatmen

inthesetimesoftrouble.Nosingleblade,evenoneasloyalasmyown,couldprotectyourheirinsuchlandsasJaseth.PrinceJorg’sbestdefencelayinanonymity.”Iglancedoverthecourt.It

seemedthatMakin’sspeechhadnotdesertedhimafterall.Hiswordshadanimpact.Fatherranahandoverhis

beard.“Thenyoushouldhave

riddenbacktothecastlewithanamelesscharge,SirMakin.Iwonderthatthisjourneytookfouryears.”“ThePrincehadtakenup

withabandofmercenaries,yourmajesty.Byhisownskillhewontheirallegiance.HetoldmeplainthatifImovedtotakehim,theywouldkillme,andthatifIstolehimaway,hewouldannouncehimselftoevery

passer-by.AndIbelievedhim,forhehasthewillofanAncrath.”Timetobeheard,I

thought.“Fouryearsontheroadhavegivenyouabettercaptain,”Isaid.“There’smoretolearnaboutmakingwarthancanbediscoveredinthiscastle.We—”“Youlackenterprise,Sir

Makin,”Fathersaid.HiseyesneverflickeredfromMakin.I

wonderedifI’dspokenatall.Angertingedhisvoicenow.“HadIriddenoutaftertheboy,IwouldhavefoundawaytoreturnwithhimfromJasethwithinamonth.”SirMakinboweddeeply.

“Thatiswhyyoudeserveyourthrone,majesty,whilstIammerelycaptainofyourpalaceguard.”“Youarethecaptainofmy

guardnolonger,”Fathersaid.

“SirGalenservesinthatcapacitynow,asheservedtheHouseofScorron.”GalenofferedMakinthe

slightestofbows,amockingsmileonhislips.“Perhapsyouwouldliketo

challengeSirGalenforyouroldoffice?”Fatherasked.Againhefingeredhissalt-and-pepperbeard.Isensedatraphere.Father

didn’twantMakinback.

“Yourmajestyhaschosenhiscaptain,”Makinsaid.“Iwouldnotpresumetoover-writethatdecisionwithmysword.”Hesensedthetraptoo.“Indulgeme.”Father

smiledthen,forthefirsttimesinceourentrance,anditwasacoldthing.“Thecourthasbeenquietinyourabsence.Youoweussomeentertainment.Letushavea

show.”Hepaused.“Letusseewhatyouhavelearnedontheroad.”Sohedidhearme.“Father—”Istarted.And

againhecutmeoff.Icouldn’tseemtoriseabovehim.“Sageous,taketheboy,”he

said.Andthatwasthat.The

heathenhadhiseyesonmeandledmemildasasheeptostandwithhimbetweenthe

thrones.Katherineshotmeapaleglanceandhastenedtohersister’sside.MakinandGalenbowedto

theKing.Theywentoutthroughthepressofcourtiers,breakingfreeandcrossingtowhereaninlaidmarblestar,sometenfeetacross,markedthemiddleofthethrone-roomfloor.Theyfacedeachother,bowed,anddrewsteel.Makinborethelongsword

Fathergavehimwhenhetookcaptaincyofthepalaceguard.Agoodweapon,Indiansteelwovendarkandlight,acid-etchedwitholdrunesofpower.Ourtimeontheroadhadleftitshistoryrecordedinnotchesalongtheblade.I’dneverseenabetterswordsmanthanMakin.Ididn’twanttoseeonehere.SirGalenmadenomove.

Heheldhislongswordready,

butinalazygrip.Icouldseenomarkingontheweapon,asimpleblade,forgedfromtheblackironoftheTurkmen.“NevertrustaTurkman

sword...”Ispokeinawhisper.“ForTurkmanironsucks

upspellslikeaspongeandholdsabitteredge.”Sageousfinishedtheoldlineforme.Ihadasharpreplyforthe

heathen,buttheclashof

swordsrangoutoverit.MakinadvancedontheTeuton,feintinglowthenswinginghigh.Makinhadanelementalwaywithasword.Thebladewaspartofhim,alivingthingfromtiptohilt.Inawildfightheknewwhereeverydangerlay,andwherehiscoverwaited.SirGalenblockedand

deliveredasharpriposte.Theirswordsflickeredand

theplayofmetalrangouthighandsharp.Icouldbarelyfollowtheexchange.Galenfoughtwithtechnicalprecision.Hefoughtlikeamanwhoroseatdawneverydaytotrainandduel.Hefoughtlikeamanwhoexpectedtowin.Ahundrednarrowescapes

fromdeathcountedoutthefirstminuteoftheirduel.Ifoundmyrighthandgripping

thetrunkoftheglasstree,thecrystalslickandcoolundermyfingers.BytheendofthatfirstminuteIcouldtellGalenwouldwin.Thiswashisgame.Makinhadhisbrilliancebut,likeme,hefoughtinrealfights.Hefoughtinthemud.Hefoughtthroughburningvillages.Heusedthebattlefield.Butthisdrylittlegame,sonarrowinitsscope,thiswasallGalen

livedfor.MakinswungatGalen’s

legs.Atouchtootightinthecurve,andGalenmadehimpay.ThetipoftheTurkmanbladesketchedaredlineacrossMakin’sforehead.AquarterofaninchmorereachinGalen’sarmandtheblowwouldhaveshatteredMakin’sskull.“So,youopenyourgame

bysacrificingyourknight,

PrinceJorg.”Sageousspokeclosetomyear.Istartled.I’dforgotten

abouttheman.Mygazewanderedtothegreencanopyaboveus.“Ihavenoproblemswithsacrifice,heathen.”Thetreetrunkslippedglassysmoothundermyfingersasmylefthandmovedupalongthetrunk.Theclashofswordspunctuatedourconversation.

“ButIsacrificeonlywhenthereissomethingtobegained.”ThetreewasheavierthanI

hadimaginedandforamomentIdidn’tthinkIcouldtoppleit.Ibracedmylegsandputmyshouldertothetask.Thethingfellwithoutasound,thenexplodedintoamillionpiecesagainstthesteps.IcouldhaveblindedhalfofAncrath’saristocracy

hadtheireyesbeenonthethroneratherthanthefightbeforethem.Asitwas,Ipepperedtheirbackswithshardsofglass.Thecostumedthrongatthebaseoftheroyaldaisturnedintoascreamingmass.Noble-bornwomenrantheirhandsthroughhairconfinedbydiamondtiaras,andbroughtthemoutslicedandbloody.Lordsinthread-of-goldslippers,coiledinthe

latestfashions,hoppedhowlingonacarpetofbrokenglass.SirMakinandSirGalen

loweredtheirswordsandwatchedinamazement.WhenFatherstood,

everyonefellsilent,cutsornocuts.Everyoneexceptme.He

openedhismouthtospeakandIspokefirst.“ThelessonsMakin

learnedontheroaddidnotincludetourneygames.Warsarenotwonwithjoustingorchivalry.ThelessonsMakinlearnedarethesamelessonsIlearned.UnfortunatelySirMakinwouldratherdiethanoffendhiskingbydemonstratingthem.”Ididn’traisemyvoice.Thatkeptthemquiet.“Father.”Iturnedtofacehimdirect.“I’llshowyouwhatI’velearned.I’ll

fightyourpetTeuton.Ifamanofmylittleexperiencecandefeatyourchampion,thenyoushouldbehappytoreinstateSirMakin,neh?”Ifellbackintoroad-speak,hopingtostirhisanger.“You’renotaman,boy,

andyourchallengeisaninsulttoSirGalen,notworthyofconsideration.”Hespokethroughclenchedteeth.I’dneverseenhimsoangry.

Infact,I’dneverseenhimangry.“Aninsult?Maybe.”Ifelt

asmilebubblingupandletitshow.“ButIamaman.Icameofagethreedaysago,Father.I’mfitformarriagenow.Avaluablecommodity.AndIclaimthisfightasmyYearGift.OrwouldyouturnyourbackonthreecenturiesofAncrathtraditionanddenymemycomingofageboon?”

Theveinsinhisneckstoodproudandhishandsflexedasifhungryforasword.Ididn’tthinkitsafetocountonhisgoodwill.“IfIdie,thesuccession

willbeclear,”Isaid.“YourScorronwhorewillgiveyouanewson,andyou’llberidofme.Goneforgood,likeMotherandWilliam.Andyouwon’thavetosenddearoldFatherGomsttrawlingthe

miretoproveit.”ItookamomenttobowtowardtheQueen.“Nooffence,yourmajesty.”“Galen!”Father’svoice

wasaroar.“Killthisdevil,forhe’snosonofmine!”Iranthen,crunching

emeraldleavesunderhardleather.SirGalenchargedfromthecentrestar,trailinghisblackswordbehindhim,shoutingformyblood.He

camefastenough,butthefightwithMakinhadtakensomeofhiswind.Iknockedanoldwomanfrommypath,shewentdownspittingteeth,pearlsspillingfromherbrokennecklace.Iwonfreeofthecourtiers

andkeptonrunning,angledawayfromGalen.He’dgivenuptheshoutingbutIcouldhearhimbehindme,thethudofhisbootsandtheraspof

hisbreath.Hemusthavebeenahandabovesixfoot,butlighterarmourandfresherwindmadeupformyshorterlegs.Asweran,Ipulledoutmysword.TherewerecharmsenoughinitsedgetoputanotchinthatTurkmanblade.Ithrewitaway.Ididn’tneedtheweight.Littlespaceremainedto

me.Theleftwallloomedjustyardsahead,Galenmoments

behind.I’dbeenaimingforone

guardsmaninparticular,ayoungerfellowwithfairsideburnsandanopenmouth.BythetimeherealizedIwasn’tveeringaway,itwastoolate.Ihithimwiththevambraceovermyrightforearm.Theblowhammeredhisheadbackagainstthewallandhesliddownitwithnofurtherinterestinthe

proceedings.Icaughtthecrossbowinmylefthand,turned,andshotGalenthroughthebridgeofthenose.Theboltbarelymadeit

throughhisskull.It’soneofthedrawbacksinkeepingthemloaded,butstillitshouldhavebeentightenedonlyhoursbefore.Inanyevent,mostoftheTeuton’sbrainleftbythebackofhis

headandhefelldownverydead.Thesilencewouldhave

beenutterbutforthewhimperingoftheoldwomanonthefloorbackbythedais.Ilookedbackoverthecrowdofnobles,cutandbloody,atGalenlyingwithhisarmsflungout,atthesparklingruinsoftheglasstreereachingtowardthethrone-roomdoors.

“Wastheshowtoyourliking,Father?”Iasked.“I’veheardthatthecourthasbeenquietinSirMakin’sabsence.”Andforthefirsttimeinmy

lifeIheardmyfatherlaugh.Achuckleatfirst,thenlouder,thenahowlinggalesuchthathehadtoholdhisthronetostand.

21

“Getout.”Father’slaughingfitlefthimwithoutwarning,snuffedlikeacandle.Hespokeintothesilence.“Getout.I’lltalktotheboynow.”Theboy,not“myson.”Ididn’tmissthatedge.Andtheywent.Thehigh

andthemighty,thelordsandtheladies,theguardshelpingtheinjured,twoofthemdraggingGalen’scorpse.MakinfollowedafterGalen,crunch,crunch,crunch,acrossthebrokenglass,asiftomakesurenoliferemainedinhim.Katherineletherselfbeledbyatableknight.Shestoppedthough,atthebaseofthedais,andgavemealookasifshe’djustthatmoment

seenmeforwhatIwas.Isketchedheramockingbow,areflex,likereachingforablade.Ithurttoseethehatredonherface,pureandastonished,butsometimesabitofpain’sjustwhatweneed:tocauterizethewound,burnouttheinfection.ShesawmeandIsawher,bothofusstrippedofpretenceinthatemptymoment,newlywedsnakedfortheirconjugals.I

sawherforthesameweaknessI’drecognizedwhenfirstwerodebackintothegreenfieldsofAncrath.Thatsoftseductionofneedandwant,anequationofdependencethateasesundertheskin,soslowandsweet,onlytolayamanopenattheverytimehemostneedshisstrength.Oh,ithurtrightenough,butIfinishedmybowandwatchedherbackas

theyledherout.TheQueenwenttoo,

flankedbyknightsrightandleft,slightlyawkwarddownthesteps,ahintofawaddle.Icouldseetheswellofherbellynow,asshewalked.Myhalf-brotherifSageous’spredictionheldtrue.HeirtothethroneshouldIdie.Justaswellingnow,justahint,butsometimesthat’sallittakes.IrecalledBrotherKanefrom

theroad,cutonthebicepwhenwetookthevillageofHolt.“’T’ain’tnothing,little

Jorgy,”he’dsaidwhenIofferedtoheataknife.“Somefarmboywitharustyhoe.Itdon’tgodeep.”“It’sswelling,”Itoldhim.

“Needshotiron.”Ifit’snottoolatealready.“Fuckthat,notforsome

farmboywithahoe,”Kane

said.Hediedhard,didKane.

Threedayslaterandhisarmlayasthickasmywaist,weepingpusgreenerthansnot,andwithastenchsobadwelefthimscreamingtodiealone.Itdon’tgodeep—butsometimestheshallowcutbitestotheboneifyoudon’tdealwithithardandfast.Justaswelling.Iwatched

theQueengo.

Sageousstayed.Hiseyeskeptreturningtotheshatteredruinofthetree.You’dhavethoughthe’dlosthislover.“Pagan,seetotheQueen,”

Fathersaid.“Shemayneedcalming.”Adismissal,plainand

simple,butSageouswastoodistractedtoseeit.HelookedupfromtheglitteringremainsofthetrunkI’dtoppled.“Sire,I...”

Youwhat,heathen?Youwantsomething?It’snotyourplacetowant.“I...”Thiswasnewto

Sageous,Icouldseethat:hewasusedtocontrol.“Youshouldnotbeleftunattended,Sire.Theb—”Theboy?Sayitman,spitit

out.“Itmaynotbesafe.”Wrongthingtosay.I

guessedtheheathenhad

reliedonhismagicstoolong.Ifhe’dtrulylearnedmyfather’smind,he’dknowbetterthantosuggestheneededprotectionfromme.“Out.”WhateverelseImight

thinkofmydearfatherIalwaysdidadmirehiswaywithwords.ThelookSageousgaveme

heldmorethanhate.WhereKatherinechannelledapure

emotionthetattooedmagicianofferedbewilderingcomplexity.Oh,therewashatethere,sureenough,butadmirationtoo,respectmaybe,andotherflavours,allmixedinthosemildbrowneyes.“Sire.”Hebowedand

startedtowardthedoors.Wewatchedhiminsilence,

watchedhimpaceacrossthesparklingcarpetofdebris,

spottedherewithadiscardedfan,therewithapowderedwig.Thedoorsclosedbehindhimwithadullclangofbronzeonbronze.Ascaronthewallbehindthethronecaughtmyattention.Ithrewahammeronce,hard,andmissedmytarget.Ithitthere.Itseemedtobeadayforoldscars,oldfeelings.“IwantGelleth,”Father

said.

Ihadtoadmirehisabilitytowrong-footme.Istoodtherearmedwithaccusations,burdenedwithallmyyesterdays,andhe’dturnedawayfromme,tothefuture.“Gellethhingesonthe

CastleRed,”Isaid.Itwasatest.Thatwasjusthowwespoke.Everyconversationagameofpoker,everylineabetoraraise,ablufforacall.“Partytricksarewelland

good.YoukilledtheTeuton.Ididn’tthinkyouhaditinyou.Youscandalizedmycourt—well,webothknowwhattheyare,andwhatthey’reworth.Butcanyoudoitwhenitcounts?CanyougivemeGelleth?”Imethisstare.Ididn’t

inherithisblueeyes,IfollowedMotherinthatdepartment.Therewasawholewinterinthoseeyesof

his,andnothingelse.EveninSageous’splacidgazeIcoulddigdeeperandfindasubtext,butFather’seyesheldnothingbutacoldseason.Ithinkthatwaswherethefearlay,inthelackofcuriosity.I’veseenmalicemanyatimeandhateinallitscolours.I’veseenthegleaminthetorturer’seyes,thesick-light,buteventherewasthecomfortofinterest,the

slightesttouchofsalvationinsharedhumanity.Hemighthavethehotirons,butatleasthewascurious,atleasthecaredhowmuchithurt.“IcangiveyouGelleth,”I

said.CouldI?Probablynot.Of

allAncrath’sneighbours,Gellethstoodunassailableabovetherest.TheLordofGellethprobablyhadbetterclaimtotheEmpireThrone

thanFatherdid.IntheHundred,MerlGelletharhadfewequals.Ifoundmyhandonthehilt

ofmydagger.Iitchedtodrawthetemperedsteel,tolayitacrosshisneck,toscreamathim,tobringsomeheatintothosecoldeyes.Youtradedmymother’sdeathaway,youbastard!Yourownson’sblood.SweetWilliamdeadandbarelycold,and

youtradedthemaway.Apaxfortherightstorivertrade.“I’llneedanarmy,”Isaid.

“CastleRedwon’tfalleasy.”“YouwillhavetheForest

Watch.”Fatherspreadhishandsoverthethrone’sarmrestsandleanedback,watching.“Twohundredmen?”Ifelt

myfingerstightenonthepommelofmyknife.Twohundredmenagainstthe

CastleRed.Tenthousandmightnotbeenough.“I’lltakemybrotherstoo,”

Isaid.Iwatchedhiseyes.Noflickerinthewinter,nostartat“brother.”TheweaknessinmewantedtospeakofWill.“You’llhaveGelleth.IwillgiveyoutheCastleRed.I’llgiveyoutheheadoftheLordGellethar.Thenyou’llgivetheheathentome.”Andyou’llcallme“son.”

22

Sowesat,MakinandI,atatableinTheFallingAngeltavernwithajugofalebetweenus,andthesongofacracked-voicebardstrugglingtobeheardagainstthedin.AroundusthebrothersmixedwiththelowestoftheLow

Town,gaming,whoring,andgorging.Rikesatcloseathand,hisfaceburiedinaroastchicken.Heappearedtobeattemptingtoinhaleit.“Haveyouevenseenthe

CastleRed,Jorg?”Makinasked.“No.”Makinlookedathisale.He

hadn’ttouchedit.ForafewmomentswelistenedtothesoundofRikecrunching

chickenbones.“Haveyou?”Iasked.Henoddedslowlyand

leanedbackinhischair,eyesonthelanternsabovethestreet-door.“WhenIwasasquiretoSirReilly,wetookamessagetotheLordGellethar.WestayedaweekintheguesthallsattheCastleRedbeforeMerlGellethardeignedtoseeus.Histhrone-roomputsyourfather’sto

shame.”BrotherBurlowstaggered

by,bellyescapingoverhissturdybelt,ahaunchofmeatinonehandandtwoflagonsintheother,foamingoverhisknuckles.“Whataboutthecastle?”I

couldcarelessaboutapissingcontestoverthrone-rooms.Makintoyedwithhisale,

butdidn’tdrink.“It’ssuicide,

Jorg.”“Thatbad?”“Worse,”hesaid.Apaintedwhore,hennaed

hairandred-mouthed,backedintoMakin’slap.“Where’syoursmile,myhandsome?”Shehadgoodtits,fullandhigh,pushedintoaninvitingsandwichinabodiceoflaceandwhalebone.“I’msureIcouldfindit.”Herhandsvanishedintothefrothofher

skirtswheretheybunchedaroundMakin’swaist.“Sallywillmakeitallgood.Myhandsomeknightdoesn’tneednoboystokeephimwarm.”Sheflickedajealousglancemyway.Makinpitchedhertothe

floor.“It’sbuiltintoamountain.

Whatshowsabovetherockarewallssohighithurtsyournecktolookupatthe

battlements.”Makinreachedforhisaleandfastenedbothhandsaroundtheflagon.“Ow!”Thewhorepicked

herselfupfromthewetboardsandwipedherhandsonherdress.“Youdidn’thavetodothatnow!”Makindidn’tsparehera

glance.Heturnedhisdarkeyesonme.“Thedoorsareiron,thickasaswordislong.Andwhat’sabovetheground

isn’tbutatenthpartofit.There’sprovisionsinthosedeepvaultstolastyears.”Sallyprovedtobeatrue

professional.Shetransferredherattentionstome,sosmoothyou’dthinkI’dbeentheobjectofheraffectionallalong.“Andwhomightyoube,now?”Shecameinclose,runningherfingersintomyhair.“You’retooprettyforthatgrumpysell-sword,”she

said.“You’reoldenoughtolearnhowitworkswithgirls,andSallywillshowyou.”Shehadhermouthcloseto

myearnow,sendingticklesdownmyneck.Icouldsmellhercheaplemon-grassscent,cuttingthroughthealestink,andthedream-weedonherbreath.“Howmanymenwouldit

take?TobringtheplacedownaroundLord

Gellethar’sears?”Iasked.Makin’seyesreturnedto

thelanternsandhisknuckleswentwhitearoundhisflagon.SomewherebehindusRikegavearoar,quicklyfollowedbythesplinteringsoundofabodymeetingatableathighspeed.“Ifyouhadtenthousand

men,”Makinsaid,raisinghisvoiceabovethecrashingsounds.“Tenthousandmen,

wellsupplied,andwithsiegemachines,lotsofsiegeengines,thenyoumighthavehiminayear.That’sifyoucouldkeephisalliesoffyourback.Withthreethousandyoumightstarvehimouteventually.”IcaughtholdofSally’s

handasitslippedacrossmybellytothebuckleofmybelt.Itwistedherwristalittle,andshecamefrontandcentre,

sharpish,withahigh-pitchedgasp.Shehadgreeneyes,likeKatherine’sbutmorenarrowandnotsoclear.UnderthepaintshehadfeweryearsonmethanIfirstthought,shemightbetwenty,certainlynomore.“AndwhatifIfoundusa

wayin?Whatthen,BrotherMakin?HowmanymentotaketheCastleRedifIopenedusadoor?”Ispoketo

Sally’sface,inchesbeforemine.“Thegarrisonstandsat

ninehundred.Veteransmostly.Hesendshisfreshmeattothebordersandtakesitbackwhenit’sbeenseasoned.”IheardMakin’schairscrapeback.“Whichsonofawhorethrewthat?”heyelled.Ikeptthewhore’swrist

turned.Itookherthroatinmy

otherhandanddrewhercloser.“Tonightwe’llcallyouKatherine,andyoucanshowmehowitworkswithgirls.”Someofthedream-haze

lefthereyes,replacedbyfear.Thatwasallrightwithme.IhadtwohundredmenandnosecretdoorintotheCastleRed.Itseemedonlyrightthatsomebodyshouldbeworried.

23

Mybookshiftedagain.Isay“my”book,butintruthitwasstolen,filchedfromFather’slibraryonthewayoutoftheTallCastle.Thebooklurchedatme,threateningtosnapshutonmynose.“Liestill,damnyou,”I

said.“Mmmgfll.”Sallygavea

sleepymurmurandnestledherfaceinthepillow.Isettledthebookback

betweenherbuttocksandnudgedherlegsslightlyfurtherapartwithmyelbows.OverthetopofthepageIcouldseethefaint-knobbedridgeofSally’sspinetracingitspathacrosshersmoothbacktobelostintheredcurls

aroundherneck.Iwasn’tconvincedthatthetextbeforemewasmoreinterestingthanwhatlaybeneathit.“Itsaysherethatthere’sa

valleyinGelleththeycalltheGorgeofLeucrota,”Isaid.“It’sinthebadlandsdownbelowtheCastleRed.”Themorninglight

streamedthroughtheopenwindow.Theairhadachilltoit,butagoodone,likethe

biteonale.“Mmmnnn.”Sally’svoice

camefromthepillow.I’dtiredherout.Youcan

wearevenwhoresoutwhenyou’rethatyoung.Thecombinationofawomanandtimeonmyhandswasn’toneI’dtriedbefore.Ifoundthemixtomyliking.There’salottobesaidfornotbeinginaqueue,ornothavingtofinishupbeforetheflames

takeholdofthebuilding.Andthewillingness!Thatwasnewtoo,albeitpaidfor.InthedarkIcouldimagineitwasfree.“NowifIknowmyancient

Greek,andIdo,aleucrotaisamonsterthatspeakswithahumanvoicetolureitsprey.”Ibentmynecktobiteatthebackofherthigh.“Andinmyexperience,anymonsterthattalksinahumanvoice,is

human.Orwas.”Myfeethungovertheend

ofthebed.Iwiggledmytoes.Sometimesthathelps.Ireachedfortheoldestof

thethreebooksI’dstolen.ABuildertextonplasteeksheets,wrinkledbysomeancientfire.ScholarsintheeastwouldpayahundredingoldforBuildertexts,butIhopedformoreprofitthanthat.

I’dbeentaughttheBuilderspeechbyTutorLundist.Ilearneditinamonthandhe’dgonebraggingtoanyonewho’dlisten,untilFathershuthismouthwithoneofthosedarklookshe’sfamedfor.OldLundistsaidIknewtheBuilderspeechaswellasanyintheBrokenEmpire,butIcouldn’tmakesenseofmorethanhalfthewordsinthelittlebookI’dstolen.

Icouldreadthe“TopSecret”attheheadandfootofeverypage,but“Neurotoxicology,”“Carcinogen,”“Mutogen”?Maybetheywereoldstylesofhat.TothisdayIdon’tknow.ThewordsIdidrecognizewereinterestingenoughthough.“Weapons,”“Stockpile,”“MassDestruction.”Thelastbutonepageevenhadashinymap,

allcontoursandelevations.TutorLundisttaughtmealittlegeographyaswell.Enoughtomatchthatsmallmaptothe“ViewsfromCastleRed”painstakinglyexecutedinthelargebutdullAHistoryofGellethwhoseleather-boundspinenestledinthecleftofdearSally’soh-so-biteablebackside.EvenwhenIunderstood

theBuilderwords,the

sentencesdidn’tmakesense.“Binaryweaponleakageisnowendemic.Thelighterthanairunarycompoundsshowlittletoxiceffect,thoughrosiosisisacommontopologicalexposuresymptom.”Or,fromthesamepage:

“Mutageniceffectsarecommondownstreamofbinaryspills.”IcouldstretchmyGreektoguessthe

meaning,butithardlyseemedreasonable.PerhapsI’dstolenanoldstorybook?“Jorg!”Makinhollered

throughthedoor.“Theescort’sheretotakeyoutotheForestWatch.”Sallystartedupatthat,but

Ipressedherdown.“Tellthemtowait,”I

called.TheForestWatchweren’t

goingtobemuchusetome.

Notunlesstheyhadtenthousandfriendsthatwantedtocomealong.“SweetJesuI’msore.”

Sallytriedtogetupagain.“Oh!It’smorningalready.Sammethwillkillme.”“Isaidstill,damnit.”I

foundacoinfrommypurseonthetableandtossedituptoher.“ThatforyourdamnSammeth.”Sheslumpedbackwitha

comfortableprotest.“Binaryweaponleakage..

.”Asifspeakingthewordswouldaddmeaning.“You’regoingtotheCastle

Redthen?”Sallysaid.Shestifledayawn.Iraisedahandtoslapher

intosilence.Ofcourseshedidn’tseeitandAHistoryofGellethblockedthebesttarget.“Sayhellotoallthoselittle

redpeopleforme,”shesaid.Rosiosis.Iloweredmyhandtoher

hip.“Littleredpeople?”“Uhhuh.”Ifeltherwiggleundermy

palm.Igrippedharder.“Littleredpeople?”“Yes.”Awhineof

irritationtingedhervoice.“WhydoyouthinktheycallittheCastleRed?”Ipulledmyselftoasitting

position.“Makin!Getinhere!”Ishouteditloudenoughforthewholeinntohear.Hecameinsharpenough,onehandonhissword.AsmilefounditswaytohislipswhenhesawSallysprawledoutnaked,buthekepthishandwhereitwas.“Myprince?”Sallyreallydidtrytoget

upatthat.ShealmostmadeittoallfoursandAHistory

wentflying.“Prince?Nobodysaid

nothingaboutaprince!Heain’tnobleedin’prince!”Ipushedherdownagain.“Thatconversationwehad

yesterday,Makin,”Isaid.“Yes?”“Anythingyou’dliketo

addtothedescription?Anythingaboutthoseninehundredveterans?”Iasked.Foramomenthelookedas

blankasidiotMaical.“Somethingaboutthe

colourscheme?”Igavehimaprompt.“Oh.”Hegrinned.“The

Blushers?Yes.They’reredasacookedlobster,everyoneofthem.Somethinginthewatertheysay.Ithoughteveryoneknewthat.”Rosiosis.“Ineverknewit,”Isaid.“Soundslikeyourfather

shouldhavehangedTutorLundistthen,”Makinsaid.“Everyoneknowsthat.”Monstersdownbelow.“He’sneveraprince!”

Sallysoundedoutraged.“You’vebeenroyally

fucked.”Makingaveheralittlebow.CastleRedandallitsred

soldiersupabove.Igotoffthebed.Weaponsstockpile.

Leakage.“So,”Makinsaid.“Arewe

readytogo?”Ireachedformytrews.

SallyrolledoverasIlacedthemup,whichdidn’thelpatall.Iwatchedhernakedness,highlightscourtesyofthemorningsun.Iwondered—shouldIgambletheForestWatchandthebrothersbothonsomewildconjecturesandblindguessesatwhatobscure

wordsmeant...“Tellthemanhour.”My

fingersflippedfromlacingtounlacing.“I’llbereadyinanhour.”Sallylaybackonthe

pillowsandsmiled.“Prince,eh?”Lyinginseemedlikea

goodideaallofasudden.

24

“Whatho!CaptainCoddin!”Icamedownthestairsinremarkablygoodspiritsshortlybeforenoon.TheCaptaingavemeastiff

bow,hislipspressedintoatightline.Inafarcornertheyoungerbrothers,Roddat,

Jobe,andSim,nursedhangovers.IcouldseeBurlowunderatable,snoring.“I’dhavethoughtyou’dbe

backatChelnyFord,Captain,protectingourbordersfromthepredationsofvillainsandrogues,”Isaid,allcheery-like.“Therewassome

dissatisfactionwithmyperformanceintherole.

CertainvoicesatcourtmaintainedthatI’dletasighttoomanyvillainsandroguespastmygarrisonoflate.I’massignedtoescortdutyinCrathCity.”Hegesturedtothestreet-door.“IfPrinceJorgisready?”IdecidedIlikedtheman.

Thatsurprisedme.I’mnotgiventolikingpeopleasarule.Iblameditonmymood.Nothinglikeanightof

whoringtoturnamansoft.SoCoddinandhisfour

soldiersledusoutthroughtheWestGate.IhadMakinwithmeofcourse,andElbanbecauseoldthoughhewas,thereweren’tmanyamongthebrotherswithmorethanhalfabrain.IbroughttheNubanalongtoo.Notsurewhy,buthe’dbeensatbythebareatinganapple,withthatcrossbowofhisacrosshis

lap,andIthoughtI’dhavehimalong.WetooktheOldRoad

towardRennatForest,twelvemilesorsoasthecrowflies,andofcoursetheOldRoadflieslikeacrow,followingthelinelaiddownbymenofRomeanageuponanageago.Coddinrodeatthefore,

flankedbyhisboys,usbehindenjoyingtheday.

MakinnudgedFirejumpupalongsideGerrodandthetwoofthemexchangedwhateverthreatspassbetweenstallions.“Youshouldhaveleftme

toSirGalen,Jorg,”Makinsaid.“Youthinkyoucouldhave

takenhim?”Iasked.“No.Heknewhis

swordwork,thatTeuton,”Makinsaid,andhewipedahandacrosshismouth.“I’ve

nevercrossedbladeswithabetterman.”“Hewasn’tthebetter

man,”Isaid.Asilencefellbetweenus

foramoment.Elbanbrokeit.“Makinfoundamanhe

couldn’tbeat?SirMakin?Idon’tbelieveit.”Hislispmadeawet“Thur”of“Sir.”Makinturnedinthesaddle

tofaceElban.“Believeit.TheKing’schampionhadme

cold.Jorgbeathim,though.”HenoddedtowardtheNuban.“Withacrossbow.You’dhavebeenproud.”TheNubanranasoot-

blackhandovertheironworkofhisbow,touchingthefacesofhispagangods.“There’snoprideinthis,Makin.”Icouldneverreadthe

Nuban.Onemomenthe’dseemassimpleasMaical,thenext,deeperthanadeepwell.

Sometimesbothatonce.“Maical,”Isaid,

remembering.“Whathappenedtoourpetidiotintheend?Didhedie?Iforgottoask.”“WelefthiminNorwood,

Jorth.Heshouldhavebeendead,withthatgut-wound,buthejusthungon,moaningallthetime,”Elbansaid.Hewipedthespittlefromhischin.

“Toostupidtodie,”Makinsaid.Hegrinned.“Wehadtodraghimofftoahouseattheedgeoftown.LittleRikeywasallforfinishinghimoff,justtoshuthimup.”Wehadusachuckleover

that.“Seriouslythough,Jorg,

youshouldhaveleftGalentoit,”Makinsaid.“Ifyouhad,you’dbesittingprettyatcourt.You’restillheirtothe

throne.You’dhavegotthatsaucyprincessintime.TheCastleRedisadeathsentenceforsmashingthatstupidtree.ThatandcallinghiswifeaScorronwhore.Yourfatherisnotaforgivingman.”“You’dberightinallthat,

Makin,”Isaid.“Ifmyambitionwerelimitedto‘sittingpretty,’I’dhavelettheTeutondohisworst.Luckilyforyou,Iwanttowin

theHundredWar,reunitetheBrokenEmpire,andbeEmperor.AndifI’mgoingtostandanychanceofthat,thentakingtheCastleRedwithtwohundredmenwillbeapieceofcake.”Wehadourlunchata

milestoneonthemarginsoftheforest.Mutton,swipedfromthekitchensatTheFallingAngel.Wewerestillwipingthegreasefromour

fingerswhenwerodeinunderthetrees—bigoaksandbeechesinthemain—blushingcrimsonwiththekissofautumnfrost.Ridingunderthosebranches,withthecrunchofhoofonleaves,andthebreathofhorsesplumingbeforeus,Ifeltitagain,thatsweethooksinkingbeneaththeskin.Theysayamancantravelalifetimeandnotescapethe

spelloftheAncrathvalleys.Iyawned,crackingmy

jaw.Ithadn’tbeenanightforsleeping.WarminmycloakIletGerrod’sgentlegaitrockme.Ifoundmyselfthinkingof

smoothlimbsandsoftness.Mylipsspokehernameasiftotasteit.“Katherine?”Makinasked.

Ijerkedmyheaduptofindhimwatchingme,withan

eyebrowraisedinthatirritatingwayofhis.Ilookedaway.Toourleft

alongsprawlofhook-briarwrithedaroundthebolesofthreeelms.I’dlearnedahardlessonamongthehook-briaronestormynight.Itwasn’tjustthebeautyofthelandthathaditshooksinme.Killher.Iturnedroundinthe

saddle,butMakinhadfallen

backtojokewiththeNuban.Killher,andyou’llbefree

forever.Itseemedthatthevoice

camefromthedarknessbeneaththebriar’scoils.Itspokeunderthecrunchingofhoovesinthedryleaf-fall.Killher.Anancientvoice,

desiccated,untouchedbymercy.ForamomentIsawKatherine,bloodwellingoverherwhiteteeth,hereyes

roundwithsurprise.Icouldfeeltheknifeinmyhand,hiltagainstherstomach,hotbloodrunningovermyfingers.Poisonwouldbequieter.A

distanttouch.Thatlastvoice—itcould

havebeenmine,orthebriar,theystartedtosoundthesame.Strengthrequiressacrifice.

Allweaknesscarriesitscost.

Nowthatwasme.We’dleftthebriarbehindandthedayhadgrowncold.TheForestWatchfoundus

quickenough,I’dhavebeenworriediftheyhadn’t.Asix-manpatrol,allinblacksandgreens,cameoutofthetreesandbadeusstateourbusinessontheKing’sroad.Ididn’tletCoddin

introduceme.“I’vecometoseetheWatchMaster,”Isaid.

Thewatchmenexchangedglances.I’msureweseemedaraggedbunch,onlyMakinwithanycourtlytouchabouthim,havingpolisheduptoseeFatherDear.Ihadmyoldroadplateon,andElbanandtheNuban,well,theirlookswouldearnthemabandit’snoosewithoutthetediumofatrial.Coddinspokeupthen.

“ThisisJorg,Princeof

Ancrath,heirtothethrone.”Hiswords,hardtoswallow

astheymightbe,hadtheweightofauniformbehindthem.Thewatchmenlookeddumbfounded.“He’scometoseethe

WatchMaster,”Coddinsaid,bywayofaprompt.Thatgotthemmovingand

theyledusintothedeepforestalongaseriesofdeer-paths.Wefollowedinsingle

file,ridinguntilIgottiredofbeingslappedinthefacebyeveryotherbranch,anddismounted.Thewatchmenkeptupastiffpace,showinglittleregardforroyaltyorheavyarmour.“WhoistheWatchMaster

anyhow?”Iasked,shortofbreathandclankingalongloudenoughtokeepthebearsfromhibernation.Oneofthewatchmen

glancedback,anoldfellow,gnarledasthetrees.“LordVincentdeGren.”Hespatintothebushestoshowhisregardfortheman.“Yourfatherappointedhim

thisspring,”CaptainCoddinsaidfrombehindme.“Igatheritwasapunishmentofsomesort.”TheForestWatchmadeits

headquartersbyRulow’sFallontheplainwheretheRiver

Temusmeanderedbeforegatheringitscouragefortheleapdownatwo-hundred-footstepinthebedrock.Adozenlargecabins,wood-shingledandlog-built,nestledamongthetrees.AnabandonedmillhouseservedastheWatchMaster’skeep,fashionedfromgraniteblocksandperchedattheheadofthefall.Afewdozenwatchmen

cameouttowatchourcolumnwinduptothekeep.NotmuchentertainmentinthesepartsIguessed.Theoldwatchmanwentin

toannounceuswhilewetiedoursteeds.Hedidn’thurryout,sowewaited.Acoldwindblewup,stirringthefallenleaves.Thewatchmenstoodwithus,black-greencloaksflapping.Mostofthewatchheldshortbows.A

longbowwillgettangledinthetreesandyou’llneverneedgreatrangeintheforest.NoRobinofHoodhere,thewatchmenweren’tmerry,andtheywereapttokillyouifyousteppedoutofline.“PrinceJorg.”Thekeep

dooropenedandamancladinerminesteppedout,hisfingershookedinabeltofgoldplates.“LordVincentdeGren,

I’mguessing.”Igavehimmymostinsinceresmile.“Soyou’reheretotellus

we’reallgoingtodieoversomestupidpromiseaboymadetoimpresshisfather!”hesaid,loudenoughforthewholeclearingtohear.IhadtohandittoLord

Vincent,hecertainlycutstraighttothechase.AndIlikethatinaman,Ireallydo,butIdidn’tlikethewayhe

saidit.Hehadascrewed-upsortoffacedidLordVincent,asiftheworldtastedsourinhismouth,whichwasodd,becausehehadthesortofbutterballshapethattakessomeseriouseatingtoacquireandafewdozenextrastoatstocoverinermine.Itookhimtobeaboutthirty,butit’shardtotellwithfatpeople:they’venoskinspareforwrinkles.

“Newstravelsfast,Isee.”IwonderedifmyfatherwantedmetofailevenmorethanhewantedtheCastleRed.Inawayitwouldbeacompliment,implyinghefeltIhadachance.Butno,thishadawoman’stouch,maybethetouchofawomanstillsmartingover“Scorronwhore.”Awomanusedtoteasingoutpost-coitalsecrets.Awomanwhomightsend

riderstoRennatForest.EventoGelleth.Istrodeacrosstotheman.

“Iwonder,mylorddeGren,wouldyourmenfollowyoutothedeath?I’mimpressedthatyou’vewontheirrespectsorapidly.IhearthattheForestWatchareahardlot,tougherthannails.”Iputanarmaroundhisshoulders.Hedidn’tlikeit,butyoucandothingslikethatwhenyou’rea

prince.“Walkwithme.”Ididn’tgivehimachoice.

IsteeredhimdownstreamtowardtheglisteninglinewheretheRiverTemusvanished,replacedbyafainthazeofmist.“Followon,”Ishouted.“Thisisn’taprivatemeeting.”Sowecametostandona

shelfofwetstone,fiftyyardsdownfromthemillhouse,wherethewatersleaptwhite

overtherocks,gatheringfortheirplungeoverRulow’sFall.“PrinceJorg,Idon’t...”

LordVincentbegan.“You,comehere!”Itook

myarmfromdeGrenandpointedtotheoldwatchmanwho’dspatouttheWatchMaster’snameearlier.Ihadtoshoutabovethevoiceoftheriver.Theoldfellowcametojoin

usbytheedge.“Andwho’sthisproud

exampleofthewatch,WatchMaster?”Iasked.Fatpeople’sfacesare

wonderfulforemotion.OratleastLordVincent’swas.Icouldseehisthoughtstwitchingacrosshisbrow,quiveringinhisjowls,twistingintherollsaroundhisneck.“I...”“There’stwohundredof

thebuggers.Youcan’tbeexpectedtoknowthemall,”Isaid,allsympathy.“What’syourname,watchman?”“Keppen,yerhighness,”he

said.Helookedasifhe’dratherbesomewhereelse,hadhiseyesopen,lookingfortheout.“Orderhimtojump,Watch

Master,”Isaid.“W-what?”LordVincent

wentverypaleveryquickly.

“Jump,”Isaid.“Orderhimtojumpoverthefall.”“What?”LordVincent

seemedtobehavingdifficultyhearingovertheroar.Keppenhadhishandonhis

dagger-hilt.Sensiblefellow.“Ifyourmenareallgoing

todieoversomestupidpromiseaboymadehisfather,well,it’sonlysensiblefortheboytomakesure

they’llfollowyourorderswhenitmeanscertaindeath,”Isaid.“Andifyousay‘what’again,I’mgoingtohavetosliceyouopenhereandnow.”“W—But,myprince...

PrinceJorg...”Hetriedtolaugh.“Orderhimtojump,now!”

IbarkeditindeGren’sface.“J-jump!”“Notlikethat!Putsome

convictionintoit.He’snotgoingtojumpifyoumakeitasuggestion.”“Jump!”LordVincent

reachedforsomelordlycommand.“Better,”Isaid.“Once

more,withfeeling.”“Jump!”LordVincent

screamedthewordatoldKeppen.Thecolourcamebacknow,flushinghimbrightcrimson.“JUMP!Jump,

damnyou!”“BuggeredifIwill!”

Keppenshoutedback.Hepulledhisknife,awickedbitofsteel,andbackedoff,wary-like.Ishrugged.“Notgood

enough,LordVincent.Justnotgoodenoughatall!”Andwithaheartyshovehewentover.Neverawailfromhim.Didn’tevenhearasplash.Imovedquicklythen.In

twostridesIhadKeppenbythethroat,withmyotherhandonhiswrist,keepingthatknifeatbay.ItookhimbysurpriseandinanotherstepIhadhimbackedoutovertheedge,heelsrestingonair,andmygriponhisneckallthatkepthimwithus.“So,Keppen,”Isaid.“Will

youdieforthenewWatchMaster?”Igavehimasmile,butIdon’tthinkhenoticed.

“Thisisthebitwhereyousay,‘yes.’Andyou’dbettermeanit,becausetherearealotworsethingsthandyingeasywhengivenanorder.”Hegota“yes”outpastmy

fingers.“Coddin.”Ipointedhim

out.“You’rethenewWatchMaster.”IpulledKeppenbackand

walkedbacktowardthekeep.Theyallfollowedme.

“IfIaskyoutodieforme,Iexpectyoutoaskwhenandwhere,”Isaid.“ButI’mnotinanyhurrytoask.It’dbeawaste.TheForestWatchisthemostdangeroustwohundredsoldiersAncrathhas,whethermyfatherknowsitornot.”Itwasn’tallflattery.Inthe

foresttheywerethebestwehad.WithagoodWatchMastertheywerethesharpest

swordinthearmoury,andtooclevertojumpwhentold.“WatchMasterCoddin

hereistakingyouintoGelleth.”Isawafewlipscurlatthat.LordVincent’slongjumpornot,Iwasstillaboy,andtheCastleRedwasstillsuicide.“You’llgetwithintwentymilesoftheCastleRed,andnocloser.You’retospendtwoweeksintheOttonforests,cuttingwoodfor

siegeenginesandkillinganypatrolsthatcomeinafteryou.WatchMasterCoddinwilltellyoutherestwhenthetimecomes.”Iturnedfromthemand

pushedopenthedoortothekeep.“Coddin,Makin!”Theyfollowedmein.The

entrancehallgaveontoahomelydiningroomwherethetablewassetwithcoldgoose,bread,andautumn

apples.Itookanapple.“Mythanks,PrinceJorg.”

Coddingaveanotherofhisstiffbows.“SavedfromescortdutyinCrathCity,IcanenjoymywinterrunningaroundthewoodsinGellethnow.”Thefaintesthintofasmileflickeredatthecornerofhismouth.“I’mcomingwithyou.In

disguise.It’sacloselyguardedsecretthatyou’reto

ensureleaksout,”Isaid.“Andwherewillwebe

really?”Makinasked.“TheGorgeofLeucrota,”I

toldhim.“Talkingtomonsters.”

25

WereturnedtotheTallCastlethroughtheOldTownGate,withthenoondaysunhotacrossournecks.Icarriedthefamilyswordacrossmysaddleandnonesoughttobarourway.Weleftthehorsesinthe

WestYard.“Seehe’swellshod.We

havearoadaheadofus.”IslappedGerrod’sribsandletthestableladleadhimaway.“We’vecompany.”Makin

laidahanduponmyshoulder.“Haveacare.”Henoddedacrosstheyard.Sageouswasdescendingthestairfromthemainkeep,asmallfigureinwhiterobes.“I’msureourlittlepagan

canlearntolovePrinceJorgyjustlikealltherest,”Isaid.“He’sahandymantohaveinyourpocket.”Makinfrowned.“Betterto

putascorpioninyourpocket.I’vebeenaskingaround.Thatglasstreeyoufelledtheotherday.Itwasn’tatrinket.Hegrewit.”“He’llforgiveme.”“Hegrewitfromthestone,

Jorg.Fromagreenbead.It

tooktwoyears.Hewatereditwithblood.”BehindusRikesniggered,

achildishsound,unsettlingfromsuchagiant.“Hisblood,”Makin

finished.Anotherofthebrothers

snortedlaughteratthat.They’dallheardthestoryofSirGalenandtheglasstree.Sageousstoppedayardin

frontofmeandcasthisgaze

acrossthebrothers,somestillhandingovertheirsteeds,otherspressedcloseatmyside.HiseyesflickeduptotakeinRike’sheight.“Whydidyourun,Jorg?”

heasked.“Prince.You’llcallhim

Prince,youpagandog.”Makinsteppedforward,half-drawing.SageoustookhiminwithamildlookandMakin’shandfelllimpathisside,the

argumentgonefromhim.“Whydidyourun?”“Idon’trun,”Isaid.“Fouryearsagoyouran

fromyourfather’shouse.”Hekepthisvoicegentle,andthebrotherswatchedhimasthoughcharmedbyaspinningpenny.“Ileftforareason,”Isaid.

Hislineofattackunsettledme.“Whatreason?”

“Tokillsomeone.”“Didyoukillhim?”

Sageousasked.“Ikilledalotofpeople.”“Didyoukillhim?”“No.”TheCountofRenar

stilllivedandbreathed.“Why?”Whyhadn’tI?“Didyouharmhim?Did

youhurthisinterests?”Ihadn’t.Infactifyou

lookedatit,ifyoutracedthe

randompathoffouryearsontheroad,youmightsayIhadfurtheredRenar’sinterests.ThebrothersandIhadnippedatBaronKennick’sheelsandkepthimfromhisambitions.InMabbertonwehadtorntheheartfromwhatmighthavebeenrebellion...“Ikilledhisson.Istucka

knifeinMarclos,Renar’sfleshandheir.”Sageousallowedhimselfa

smallsmile.“Asyoucameclosertohome,youcameundermyprotection,Jorg.Thehandthatsteeredyoufellaway.”Wasittrue?Icouldn’tsee

thelieinhim.Myeyesfollowedthescriptureswrittenacrosshisface,thecomplexscrollsofanalientongue.Anopenbook,butIcouldn’treadhim.“Icanhelpyou,Jorg.Ican

giveyoubackyourself.Icangiveyouyourwill.”Heheldouthishand,palm

open.“Freewillhastobetaken,”

Isaid.Whenindoubtreachforthewisdomofothers.Nietzscheinthiscase.Someargumentsrequireaknifeifyou’retocuttothequick,othersrequirethebreakingofheadswithaphilosopher’sstone.

Ireachedoutandtookhishandinmine,frombelow,hisknucklestomypalm.“Mychoiceshavebeenmy

own,pagan,”Isaid.“Ifsomeonesoughttosteerme,Iwouldknowit.”“Wouldyou?”“AndifIknewit...Oh,if

Iknewit,IwouldteachsuchalessoninpainthattheRedMenoftheEastthemselveswouldcometolearnnew

tricks.”Evenastheyleftmethewordsranghollow.Childish.“ItisnotIwhohasled

you,Jorg,”Sageoussaid.“Whothen?”Isqueezed

hishanduntilIheardthebonescreak.Heshrugged.“Askfor

yourwillandIshallgiveittoyou.”“Iftherewereaglamouron

me,Iwouldfindtheonethat

placeditandIwouldkillthem.”Ifeltanechooftheoldpainthatplaguedmeontheroad,apangfromtempletotemple,behindtheeyeslikeasliverofglass.“Butthereisnone,andmywillismyown,”Isaid.Heshruggedagain,and

turnedaway.LookingdownIsawthatIheldmylefthandinmyright,andbloodranbetweenmyfingers.

26

FrommyencounterwithSageousintheWestYardIwentstraighttomass.MeetingthepaganhadleftmewantingatouchofthechurchofRoma,abreathofincense,andaheavydoseofdogma.Ifheathensheldsuch

powers,itseemedonlyrightthatthechurchshouldhavealittlemagicofitsowntobestowupontheworthy,andhopefullyupontheunworthywhobotheredtoshowup.Failingthat,Ihadneedofapriestinanycase.Wemarchedintothe

chapeltofindFatherGomstpresiding.Thechoirsongfalteredbeforetheclatterofbootsonpolishedmarble.

Nunsshrankintotheshadowsbeneaththebrothers’leers,and,nodoubt,theranknessofourcompany.GainsandSimtookofftheirhelmsandbowedtheirheads.Mostofthemjustglancedaroundforsomethingworthstealing.“Forgivetheintrusion,

Father.”Isetahandinthefontbytheentranceandlettheholywaterliftthebloodfrommyskin.Itstung.

“Prince!”Hesethisbookuponthelecternandlookedup,white-faced.“Thesemen...itisnotproper.”“Ohshush.”Iwalkedthe

aisle,eyesonthepaintedmarveloftheceiling,turningslowlyasIwent,onehandraisedandopen,dripping.“Aren’ttheyallsonsofGod?Penitentchildrenreturnedforforgiveness?”Istoppedbeforethealtar

andglancedbacktowardthebrothersbythedoor.“Putthatback,Roddat,oryou’llbeleavingboththumbsinthealmsbox.”Roddatdrewasilver

candlestickfromthegreyrotofhistravelcloak.“Thatoneattheleast.”

FatherGomstpointedattheNuban,atrembleinhisfinger.“ThatoneisnotofGod’sflock.”

“Notevenablacksheep?”IcametostandbyGomst.Heflinched.“Well,maybeyoucanconverthimonourjourney.”“Myprince?”“You’retoaccompanyme

toGelleth,FatherGomst.Adiplomaticmission.I’msurprisedtheKingdidn’ttellyou.”Iwasn’tsosurprisedintruth,sinceitwasalie.“Weleaveimmediately.”

“But—”“Come!”Istrodetoward

thedoor.Apause,andthenhefollowed.Icouldhearthereluctanceinhisfootsteps.Thebrothersbegantofile

outaheadofme,Riketrailinghishandalongthewalls,overreliquaryandicon.HavingsecuredthepriestI

waskeentobeoff.IdirectedMakintooverseeaswiftprovisioningandledGomst

backtotheWestYard.“Weshouldnottakethis

Nuba-manonamissionofdiplomacy,Prince.Oranyother,”Gomstwhisperedaswewalked.“TheydrinkthebloodofChristianprieststoworktheirspells,youknow.”“Theydo?”Ithinkitwas

thefirstinterestingthingIeverheardGomstsay.“Icouldusealittlemagicmyself.”

Thepriestpaledbehindhisbeard.“Asuperstition,myprince.”Afewmorepacesand,

“Evenso,wereyoutoburnhim,theLord’sblessingwouldbeuponusandourjourney.”Withinthehour,saddlebagsbulging,werodebackoutintotheOldTown.Sageouswaswaitingforus.Hestood

alonebythesideofthecobbledpath.Idrewupbeforehim,stilluneasyinmymind.Hehaddrivenawedgeofdoubtintome.IhadtoldmyselfI’dsetCountRenarasideasanactofstrength,asacrificetotheironwillIneededtowinthegameofthrones.Butsometimes,nowforinstance,Ididn’tquitebelieveit.“Youshouldacceptmy

protection,Prince,”Sageoussaid.“I’vesurvivedlongenough

withoutit.”“Butnowyou’regoingto

Gelleth,boundonapathtostrengthenyourfather’shand.”“Iam.”Thebrothers’

horsessnortedaroundme.“Ifanyhadamindthatyou

mighttrulysucceed,theywouldstopyou,”Sageous

said.“Theonewhohasplayedyouthesepastyearswillseektotightenthebondsyouhaveloosened.Perhapsthepriestwillhelpyou.Hispresencedidbefore.Hehasvalueasatalisman,butpastthatheisemptyrobes.”Ahorsepushedagainst

Gerrod,theridermovingbesideme.Isetmyhandonmysword

hilt.“Idon’tlikeyou,pagan.”

“Whatdoyouthinkscaredthemarsh-dead,Jorg?”Norippleinhiscalmwatchfulness.“I—”Theboastsounded

hollowbeforeIspokeit.“Anangryboy?”Sageous

shookhishead.“Thedeadsawadarkerhanduponyourheart.”“I—”“Acceptmyprotection.

Therearegranderdreamsyou

candream.”Ifeltthesoftweightof

sleepuponme,thesaddleunsurebeneathme.“Dream-witch.”Adark

voicespokeatmyshoulder.“Dream-witch.”The

Nubanheldouthiscrossbow,blackfistcurledaroundthestock,musclestrainedagainsttheload.“Icarryyourtoken,Dream-witch,yourmagicswillnotstaintheboy.”

Sageousshrankback,thetattooedwritingsseemingtowritheacrosshisface.Inaninstantmyeyeswere

wide.“You’rehim.”Theclarityofitwasblinding.“YousetmybrothersinFather’sdungeon.Yousentyourhuntertokillme.”Isetahanduponthe

Nuban’sbow,rememberinghowhetookitfromthemanIkilledinabarnonestormy

night.Thedream-witch’shunter.“Yousentyourhunterto

killme.”ThelasttattersofSageous’scharmleftme.“Andnowit’smyhunterwhoholdsit.”Sageousturnedandmade

forthecastlegate,half-running.“PrayIdon’tfindyouhere

onmyreturn,pagan.”Isaiditquietly.Ifheheardit,he

mightfollowmyadvice.Weleftthen,ridingfromthecitywithoutabackwardlook.Therainsfirstfounduson

theAncrathPlainsanddoggedourpassagenorthintothemountainousbordersofGelleth.I’vebeensoakedontheroadmanyatime,buttherainsasweleftmyfather’slandswereacoldmiserythatreacheddeeperthanour

bones.Burlow’sappetiteremainedundampenedthough,andRike’stempertoo.Burlowateasiftherationswereachallenge,andRikegrowledateveryraindrop.Atmyinstruction,Gomst

tookconfessionfromthemen.AfterhearingRedKentspeakofhiscrimes,andlearninghowheearnedhisname,Gomstaskedtobe

excusedhisduties.AfterlisteningtoLiar’swhispers,hebegged.Dayspassed.Longdays

andcoldnights.IdreamedofKatherine,ofherfaceandthefiercenessofhereyes.OfaneveningweateGains’smysterystewsandFatBurlowtendedthebeasts,checkinghoovesandfetlocks.Burlowalwayslookedtothehorses.Perhapshefeltguilty

aboutweighingsoheavyonthem,butIputitdowntoamorbidfearofwalking.Wewoundfurtherupintothebleaknessofthemountains.Andatlasttherainsbroke.WecampedinahighpassandIsatwiththeNubantowatchthesunfall.Heheldhisbow,whisperingoldsecretstoitinhishometongue.Fortwodayswewalked

thehorsesacrossslopestoosteepandsharpwithrockforanyhoovessavethemountaingoats’.Apillarmarkedthe

entrancetotheGorgeoftheLeucrota.Itstoodtwoyardswideandtwiceastall,astumpshatteredbysomegiant’swhim.Theremnantsoftheupperportionlayallaround.Runesmarkedit,LatinIthink,thoughsoworn

Icouldreadalmostnothing.Werestedatthepillar.I

clamberedupittoaddressthebrothersfromthetopandtakeinthelieoftheland.Isetthementomaking

camp.Gainssethisfireandclankedhispots.Thewindblewslightinthegorge,theoil-clothtentsbarelyflappingbeforeit.Theraincameagain,butinapatter,softandcold.NotenoughtostirRike

lyingontherockssomefiveyardsfromthepillar,hissnoringlikeasawthroughwood.Istoodlookingupatthe

clifffaces.Therewerecavesupthere.Manycaves.Myhairswungbehindme

asIscannedthecliff.I’dlettheNubanweaveitintoadozenlongbraids,abronzecharmattheendofeach.Hesaiditwouldwardoffevil

spirits.Thatjustleftmethegoodonestoworryabout.Istoodwithmyhandson

theAncrathsword,restingitspointbeforeme.Waitingforsomething.Themengrewnervous,the

animalstoo.Icouldtellitfromtheirlackofcomplaint.Theywatchedtheslopeswithme,toothlessElbanasweatherbeatenastherocks,youngRoddatpaleand

pockmarked,RedKentwithhissecrets,slyRow,Liar,FatBurlow,andtherestofmyraggedbunch.TheNubankeptclosebythepillarwithMakinathisside.Mybandofbrothers.Allofthemworriedandnotknowingwhy.Gomstlookedsettorunifhehadanotionwheretogo.Thebrothershadasensefortrouble.Iknewthatwellenoughtounderstandthat

whentheyallworrytogetherit’sabadthingcoming.Averybadthing.

TranscriptfromthetrialofSirMakinofTrent:

CardinalHelot,papalprosecution:AnddoyoudenyrazingtheCathedralof

Wexten?SirMakin:Idonot.CardinalHelot:OrthesackofLowerMerca?SirMakin:No,nordoIdenythesackofUpperMerca.CardinalHelot:Lettherecordshowtheaccusedfindsamusementinthefactsofhiscrime.Courtrecorder:Sonoted.

27

Themonsterscamewhenthelightfailed.Shadowsswallowedthegorgeandthesilencethickeneduntilthewindcouldbarelystirit.Makin’shandfellonmyshoulder.Iflinched,edgingthefearwithmomentary

hatred,formyownweakness,andforMakinforshowingittome.“Upthere.”Henoddedto

myleft.Oneofthecavemouths

hadlitfromwithin,asingleeyewatchingusthroughthefallingnight.“That’snofire,”Isaid.The

lighthadnothingofwarmthorflicker.Aswewatched,thesource

ofilluminationmoved,swingingharshshadowsoutacrosstheslopes.“Alantern?”FatBurlow

steppedupbesideme,puffingouthischeeksinconsternation.Thebrothersgatheredaroundus.Thestrangelantern

emergedontotheslope,anddarknesserasedthecavebehind.Itshonelikeastar,acoldlight,reachingfromthe

sourceinathousandbrightlines.Asinglefigurecutawedgeofshadowintotheillumination;thelanternbearer.Wewatchedtheunhurried

descent.Thewindsoughtmyfleshwithicyfingersandtuggedforattentionatmycloak.“AveMaria,gratiaplena,

dominustecum,benedictatuinmulieribus.”Somewherein

thenightoldGomstymutteredhisAveMarias.Aslowhorroreaseditself

amongus.“MotherofGod!”Makin

spattheoathoutasiftoridhimselfofthefear.Weallfeltit,crawlingovertheunseenrocks.Thebrothersmighthave

run,butwherewastheretogo?“Torches,damnyou.

Now!”Ibroketheparalysis,shockedthatI’dstoodhypnotizedbytheapproachforsolong.“Now!”Idrewmysword.

Theymovedatthat.Scurryingtotheembersofthefire,stumblingovertheroughground.“Nuban,Row,Burlow,see

there’snothingcomingupalongtheriver.”EvenasIsaiditIknewwe’dbeen

flanked.“There!There,behindthat

rise!”TheNubanmotionedwithhiscrossbow.He’dseensomething,theNubanwasn’tonetospookatnothing.We’dwatchedtheprettylightandthey’dflankedus.Simpleasamarketplayofkiss-and-dip.Distractyourmarkwithaprettyface,andcomeupfrombehindtorobhimblind.Thetorchesflared,menran

totheirweapons.Thelightdrewcloserand

wesawitforwhatitwas,achildwhoseveryskinbledradiance.Shewalkedanevenpace,everyinchaglow,whitelikemoltensilver,makingmereshadowsoftheragsshewore.“AveMaria,gratiaplena!”

FatherGomst’svoicerose,liftingtheprayerlikeashield.“HailMary,”Iechoedhim.

“Fullofgrace,indeed.”Thegirl’seyesburned

silverandtheghostsofflameschasedacrossherskin.Therewasafragilebeautytoherthattookmybreath.Amonsterwalkedbehind

her.Inanyothercircumstanceitwouldhavebeenhimthatdrewtheeye.Themonsterhadbeenbuiltinparodyofaman,sharingAdam’slinesasacowapesa

horse.Thelightrevealedthehorrorofhisflesh,sparingnodetail.Thethingmighthavetoppedsevenfootinheight.ItevenhadafewinchesonLittleRikey.Liarraisedhisbow,disgust

onhispinchedface.Itookhisarmashesightedonthemonster.“No.”Iwantedtohear

themspeak.Besides,itlookedasifanarrowwould

justannoyournewfriend.Underatwistedredhide

themonster’schestlookedlikeahundred-gallonbarrel.Asetofribspiercedtheflesh,reachingforeachotherabovehisheart.Thegirl’slighttouchedus

withacoldkissandIfeltherinmymind.Shespokeandhervoiceseemedtorisefromtherocks.Iheardherfootstepsinthecorridorsof

mymemory.Thereareplaceswhere

childrenshouldn’twander.Imetthegirl’ssilvergaze,andforamomentshadowslickedacrossher.“Welcometoourcamp,”I

said.Isteppedforwardtogreet

them,leavingthebrothersandenteringthebrillianceofthechild’saura.Themonstersmiledatme,awidesmile

showingteethstolenfromthewolf.He’dtheeyesofacat,slittedagainstthelightandthrowingitback.Ipassedbeautybyand

stoodbeforethebeast.Wehadusamomentofjudging.Irananeyeoverthemuscleheapedonhisbones,crossedoverwithpulsingveinsandhardridgesofscartissue.Icouldhaveeatendinneroffoneofhishands.Hehad

threefingersandathumboneach,thickasthegirl’sarm.Hecouldhavetakenmyheadinonehandandcrushedit.Isnappedmyneck

forward,sudden-like,andjumpedathimwithashout,thrustingmyfaceathis.Heflinchedbackwardandstumbledonthelooserock.Thelaughterescapedme.Icouldn’tstopit.“Why?”Thegirllooked

puzzled.Shetiltedherheadandtheshadowsran.“Because.”Igaspedformy

breathasthemonsterrightedhimself.Why?ForamomentI

didn’tknow.“Because...because,fuck

him.Becausehe’ssuchabigbastard.”Ipushedthegrinfrommyface.Becausehehadgivenmepause.Becausehehadmademefeelsmall.

Ilookeddownather.“I’mbiggerthanyou.Areyougoingtoletthatscareyou?”“Idofearyou,”thegirl

said.“Notforyoursize,Jorg.Forthethreadsthatgatheraroundyou.ForthelinesthatmeetwhereIcan’tseethem.Fortheweight,andtheknife-edgeonwhichitsits.”Shespokeinasing-song,highandsweet.“Youmakeafineoracle,

girl,”Isaid.“You’vegotthatmixofprofoundandemptyjustright.”Islammedmyswordbackintoitssheath.“So,you’vemyname.Shallweshare?Dotheleucrotahavenames?”“Jane,”shesaid.“Andthis

isGorgoth,aleaderunderthemountain.”“Charmed.”Igavethema

littlebow.“Perhapsyourfriendscouldcomeoutfrom

behindtherocks,andthatwaymybrotherswon’tfeelsotemptedtoshootatshadows.”Gorgothsethiscat’seyes

onme,anarrowandferalstare.“Up!”Hisvoicerolledout

evendeeperthanI’dimagined,andI’dimagineditprettydeep.Othermonstersrosearound

ourcamp,someofthem

shockinglyclose.Hadeverygargoyleandgrotesquetornfreefromthegreatcathedralsandgatheredtoformanarmy,theleucrotawouldbethatarmymadeflesh.Notwostoodalike.Allhadbeensketchedontheframeofaman,butwithapoorhand.NonewereashugeandhaleasGorgoth.Mostleakedfromsores,sportedwitheredlimbs,orlabouredbeneathgrowths

ofwartandtumourheapedinfoulconfusion.“Jesu,Gorgoth!Your

friendsmakeLittleRikeylookalmosthandsome,”Isaid.Makincametojoinme,

eyesscrewedupagainstJane’slight.HeshadedhisfacewithahandandlookedGorgothupanddown.“AndthiswillbeSir

Makin,”Isaid.“Knightofthe

courtofKingOlidan,terrorof—”“Amantotrust.”Jane’s

highvoicecutacrossme.“Ifhegivesyouhisword.”Sheturnedthosesilver

orbsofhersonmeandIfeltmyyesterdayscrowdingatmyshoulder.“Youwanttogototheheartofthemountain,”shesaid.“Yes.”Icouldn’tdenythat.“Youbringdeath,Princeof

Ancrath,”shesaid.Gorgothgrowledatthat.It

soundedlikerocksgrindingtogether.Thechildputaglowinghandtohiswrist.“Deathifweagree,deathifweresist.”Shekepthereyesonme.“Whathaveyoutoofferforpassage?”Ihadtoadmitshewas

goodathergame.Itwouldn’tgowellforthemifmyplanworked,anditwouldn’tgo

wellforthemiftheytriedtostopus.“Ididbringagift,”Isaid.

“ButifitprovesnottoyourlikingthenIcanmakeyousomepromises.I’llhaveSirMakinpromiseyoutoo,andhe’samanofhisword.”Ismileddownather.“WhenIsawthisplaceonamap...”Ipausedandrememberedthecircumstanceswithacertainfondness.

“Sally...”thegirlwhispered,rememberingthetavernwithme.Thatshockedmefora

moment.Ididn’tliketheideaofthislittlegirlinmyhead,openingdoors,makingchildishjudgment,shiningherlightinplacesthatshouldbedark.Partofmewantedtocutherdown,alargepartofme.Iunclenchedmyjaw.

“WhenIsawthisgorgeonmymap,Ithoughttomyself,‘Whatagodforsakenspot.’Andthat’swhenitoccurredtomewhattobringforbarter.IbroughtyouGod.”IturnedandpointedtoFatherGomst.“I’vebroughtyousalvation,theblessingofcommunion.I’vebroughtyoubenediction,catechism...confessionifyoumust.Allthesavingyouruglylittlesoulscanhandle.”

Gomstletoutagirlishscreamandstartedtorun.TheNubancaughtadarkarmaroundhiswaistandhauledhimupoveroneshoulder.IexpectedJanetoanswer,

butGorgothmadethedeal.“Wewilltakethepriest.”

Somethingabouthisvoicemademychesthurt.“WewillguideyoutotheGreatStair.Thenecromancerswillfindyou,though.Youwillnot

return.”

SomesaidthatRedKenthadablackheart,andthatmightbetrue,butanyonewhohadseenhimtakeoutasix-strongfootpatrolwithhatchetandknifewouldtellyouthemanhadanartist’ssoul.

28

“Necromancers?”ItrudgedbehindJanewithGorgothatmyback.Therehadbeennothingaboutnecromancersinmybooks.“Theycommandthedead.

Mages—”“Iknowwhattheyare.”I

cutacrossGorgoth.“Whataretheydoinginmyway?”“MountHonasattracts

them,”Janesaid.“There’sdeathattheheartofthemountain.Oldmagics.Itmakestheirworkeasier.”Eventheleucrotas’caves

lookedugly.WhenIwasseven,andWilliamfive,TutorLundisttookussecretlytothecavernsofPaderack.Unknowntoanyatcourt,the

heirsofAncrathslidandslippedintotheblinddepths,andcametoacathedralhallofsuchpillaredwonderthatitbeggaredthegraceofGod.Icarrythegloryofthatplacewithmestill.Thechambersoftheleucrotahadnoneofthatfluidelegance,notouchofthehiddenartistrythatliesinthedeepplacesoftheworld.WewalkedthroughcorridorsofBuilder-stone,

pouredandshapedusingartslongforgotten.Jane’slightshowedusancientvaults,crackedinplacesandscaledwithlime.Wewoveapatharoundfallenblocks,largerthancart-horses,headingdeeperallthetime,likewormsburrowingtothecore,seekingtherootsofthemountain.“Shutyourmoaning,

priest.”Rowcameupbehind

theNubanandshowedoldGomstyhisknife,awickedpieceofironworktobesure.FatherGomstletuphis

wailingatthat,andIdidmissitfortheechoeshadbeenquitehaunting.Ifellbackforaword.That,andtomakesureRowdidn’tdecidetocarveupourgifttothemonstersbeforewe’dhandeditoverproper-like.“Peacenow,Father,”I

said.IpushedRow’sblade

aside.Hescowledatthat,didRow,allpock-marksandsquintingeyes.“You’lljustbechanging

flocks,Father,”ItoldGomsty.“Yournewcongregationmightlookalittlefouler,butontheinside?Well,I’msurethey’llbefairerthanRowhere.”TheNubangruntedand

shiftedFatherGomst’sweightonhisshoulder.“Sethimdown,”Isaid.

“Hecanwalk.We’regoodandlostnow,there’llbenorunning.”TheNubansetoldGomsty

onhisfeet.Helookedatme,hisfacetooblacktoread.“It’swrong,Jorg.Tradeingold,notpeople.He’saholyman.Hespeaksforthewhite-Christ.”

GomstlookedattheNubanwithahatredI’dneverseeninhimbefore,asifhe’djustgrownhornsandcalledonLucifer.“Well,nowhecanspeakto

GorgothforChrist,”Isaid.TheNubansaidnothing,

hisfaceablank.Somethingaboutthe

Nuban’ssilencesalwaysmademewanttosayalittlemore.AsifIhadtomakeit

rightwithhim.Makinscrapedatmethatsameway,butnotsobad.“It’snotlikehecan’t

leave,”Isaid.“He’sfreetowalkhomeifhereallymust.He’lljusthavetoearnhimselfsomefoodforthejourneyandamapisall.”TheNubangavemethe

whitecrescentofhissmile.Iwalkedon,acoldvoice

insidemewhispering,

whisperingofweakness,ofthethinedgeofawedge,ofasharpknifecuttingwithouttears,ofahotirontocauterizeawoundbeforeinfectionspread.Itdoesn’tdotoloveabrother.Jane’slightdimmedand

flickeredasIdrewnear.Sherecoiledslightlywithanintakeofbreath.Icurledmylipandimaginedherfallingfromacliff.Itworkedbetter

thanI’dhoped.Shegaveasquealandcoveredhereyes.Gorgothsteppedbetween

us.“Keepawayfromher,DarkPrince.”SoIwalkedinthe

shadows,andtheyledusonintothemountain.Wefollowedwidetunnelsthatstretchedformiles,level-flooredwithcurvedceilings.Ruststainsranthelengthofthepassagesinparallellines,

thoughtowhatendmenwouldlayironinsuchamannerIcan’tsay,unlessthesewerethepipesthroughwhichthesecretfireoftheBuildersran.WeleftJaneandallbut

twoofherkindredattheshoresofalakesowideevenhersilverlightcouldnotreachacrossthewaters.TheBuildershadmadethisplacetoo.Stonegaveawaytowater

withasinglesharpstep,theceilingstretchedflatandwithoutadornment.Jane’sfolkmovedawaytowardsheltersofwoodandskinshuddledatthewater’sedge.Gorgothledthem,onehandenvelopingFatherGomst’sshoulders.Janepaused,hergaze

movingbetweenthetwogrotesqueswhoremainedtoguardus.Shesaidnothing

butIcouldfeeltheundercurrentofunvoicedspeechassheinstructedthem.“Nofinalwordsforme,

littleone?”Iasked.Iwentononekneebeforeher.Afiercehumourgrippedme.“Nopredictions?Nopearlstothrowbeforethisswine?Come,shareaglimpsewithme.Blindmewiththefuture.”Shemetmygazeandthe

lightdazzled,butIwouldn’tlookaway.“Yourchoicesarekeysto

doorsIcannotseebeyond.”Ifeltangerriseinmeand

pusheditdownwithasnarl.“There’smorethanthat.”“Youhaveadarkhandon

yourshoulder.Aholeinyourmind.Ahole.Inyourmemories.Ahole—ahole—pullingmein—pulling—”Iseizedherhand.Thatwas

amistake,foritburnedtheskinandfrozetheboneinequalmeasure.I’dhavesetitdownifIcould,butthestrengthleftme.ForamomentIcouldseeonlythechild’seyes.“Whenyoumeether,run.

Justrun.Nothingelse.”ItfeltasthoughIwerespeakingthewords,thoughIcouldhearJane’svoiceframethem.ThenIfell.

Iwoketothelightoftorches.“He’sup.”Ifoundmyselffacetoface

withRike.“Jesu,Rike,youbeen

garglingratpissagain?”Ipushedhisbrutaljawtoonesideandusedhisshouldertolevermyselfup.Thebrothersbegantorisearoundme,heftingtheirpacks.Makincamefromthewater’sedge,

Gorgothloomingbehindhim.“Don’tgotouchingthe

ProphetessoftheLeucrota!”Heusedamock-scold.Icouldseethereliefhiddeninhiseyes.“I’llbearitinmind,”I

said.Gorgothpausedtoscowlat

me,thenledtheway,holdingapitch-torchthesizeofasmalltree.Ourpathangledupnow,

thetunnelthickwithdustthattastedofbitteralmonds.Wewalkedforlessthanathousandyardsbeforethewaybroadenedintoawidegallerycrossedbystonetrenchesofobscurepurpose,yardsacross,andasdeepasamanistall.Atthemouthofthegalleryawoodenpenhuggedthewall,thestaysboundwithrope.Twochildrenhuddledtogetherin

themiddleofthebarecage.Twoleucrota.Gorgothhauledthedooropen.“Out.”Theywereneitherofthem

pastsevensummers,ifsummerswereapropercountforthedarkhallsoftheleucrota.Theycameoutnaked,twoskinnyboys,brotherstolookatthem,theyoungeroneperhapsfive.OfalltheleucrotaI’dseenthey

lookedtheleastmonstrous.Ablack-and-redstipplingmarkedtheirskin,colouringthemlikethetigersofIndus.Darkbarbsofhornjuttedfromtheirelbows,mirroredinthetalonsontheirfingers.Theelderofthetwoshotmeaglance,hiseyesutterlyblack,nowhite,iris,orpupil.“Wedon’twantyour

children,”Makinsaid.Hereachedintohispocketand

tossedatwistofdry-meattothebrothers.“Putthemback.”Themeattwistskitteredto

ahaltattheelderchild’sfeet.HekepthiseyesonGorgoth.Thelittlestwatchedthedry-meatintently,butmadenomove.TheirskinstretchedsotightovertheboneIcouldcounteveryrib.“Theseareforthe

necromancers,don’twaste

yourfoodonthem.”Gorgoth’srumblecamesolowithurttohearit.“Asacrifice?”theNuban

asked.“They’redeadalready,”

Gorgothsaid.“Thestrengthoftheleucrotaisn’tinthem.”“Theylookheartyenough

tome,”Isaid.“Withamealortwoin’em.Sureyou’renotjustjealousbecausethey’renotasuglyastherest

ofyou?”Ididn’tmuchcarewhatGorgothdidwiththerunts,butItookapleasureintauntinghim.Gorgothflexedhishands

andsixgiantknucklespoppedlikelogsonthefire.“Eat.”Thetwoboysfellon

Makin’sfood,snarlinglikedogs.“Theleucrotaarepure-

born,wegainourgiftsaswe

grow.Itisaslowchange.”Hegesturedtotheboyslickingthelastfragmentsofdry-meatfromthestone.“Thesetwohavethechangesofaleucrotatwicetheirage.Thegiftswillcomefasternow,fasterandstronger.Nonecanbearsuchchanges.Ihaveseenitbefore.Suchgiftswillturnamaninsideout.”Somethinginthosecat’seyesofhistoldmehemeant

it,toldmehe’dseenit.“Bettertheyserveusaspaymenttokeepthenecromancersfromourcaves.Betterthedead-onestakethesethansearchforvictimswhocouldhavelived.Theywillfindaquickdeathandalongpeace.”“Ifyousayit,thenitisso.”

Ishrugged.“Let’sbemovingon.I’mkeentomeetthesenecromancersofyours.”

WefollowedGorgoththroughthegallery.Thebrothersscamperedaroundus,andIsawtheNubanslipthemdriedapricotsfromthewoollendepthsofhistunic.“Sowhat’syourplan?”

Makinsidledclosetome,voicelow.“Hmmm?”Iwatchedthe

youngerchildskipawayfromLiar’swell-aimedboot.“Thesenecromancers—

what’syourplan?”Makinkepttoahiss.Ididn’thaveaplan,but

thatwasjustonemoreobstacletoovercome.“Therewasatimewhenthedeadstayeddead,”Isaid.“I’vereaditinFather’slibrary.Forthelongesttimethedeadonlywalkedinstories.EvenPlatohadthedeadcomfortablyfaraway,overtheriverStyx.”“That’swhatyougetforall

thatreading,”Makinsaid.“Irememberthemarshroad.Thoseghostshadn’treadyourbooks.”“Nuban!”Icalledhim

over.“Nuban,cometellSirMakinwhythedeaddon’tresteasyanymore.”Hejoinedus,crossbow

overoneshoulder,oilofclovesintheairaroundhim.“Thewise-menofNubatellitthatthedoorstandsajar.”He

pausedandranaverypinktongueoververywhiteteeth.“There’sadoortodeath,aveilbetweentheworlds,andwepushthroughwhenwedie.ButontheDayofaThousandSunssomanypeoplehadtopushthroughatonce,theybrokethedoor.Theveilsarethinnow.Itjusttakesawhisperandtherightpromise,andyoucancallthedeadback.”

“Thereyouhaveit,Makin,”Isaid.Makinfurrowedhisbrow

atthat,thenrubbedhislips.“Andtheplan?”“Ah,”Isaid.“Theplan?”Hecouldbe

annoyinglypersistentcouldMakin.“Sameasnormal.Wejust

keepkillingthemuntiltheystaydown.”

BrotherRowyoucouldtrusttomakealongshotwithashortbow.Youcouldtrusthimtocomeoutofaknifefightwithsomebodyelse’sbloodonhisshirt.Youcouldtrusthimtolie,tocheat,tosteal,andtowatchyourback.Youcouldn’ttrusthiseyes

though.Hehadkindeyes,andyoucouldn’ttrustthem.

29

TheBuildershadanaversiontostairsitseems.Gorgothledusupthroughthemountainbytreacherouspathscutintothewallsofendlessverticalshafts.PerhapstheBuildersgrewwings,orlikethefar-seersofIndustheycould

levitatethroughforceofwill.Inanycase,thepicksoflatermenhadchewedastairintothepouredstoneoftheshaftwalls,narrowandcrudelyhewn.Weclimbedwithcare,ourarmstightbeforeus,keepingnarrowforfearofpitchingourselvesintoafallwithaninadvertentshrugoftheshoulders.Ifthedepthshadbeenlit,Idon’tdoubtbutsomeofthebrotherswould

haveneededthepointofaswordtohelpthemup,butdarknesshidesallsins,andwecouldfoolourselvesafloorlayunseentwentyfeetbelow.Strangehowthedeepera

holethestrongeritdrawsaman.Thefascinationthatlivesonthekeenestedge,andsparklesonthesharpestpoint,alsogathersindepthsofafall.Ifeltthepullofitevery

momentofthatclimb.Gorgothseemedleastwell

craftedforsuchanascent,buthemadeitlookeasy.Thetwoleucrotachildrendancedinfrontofme,skippingupthestepswithadisregardthatmademewanttoshovethemintospace.“Whydon’ttheyrunoff?”

IcalledaheadtoGorgoth.Hedidn’tanswer.Iguessedtheboys’disdainforthefallhad

tobesetagainstthefatethatawaitedthemiftheymadeitsafelytothetop.“You’retakingthemtodie.

Whydotheyfollowyou?”Icalledthewordsatthebroadexpanseofhisback.“Askthem.”Gorgoth’s

voicerumbledlikedistantthunderintheshaft.Icaughttheelderbrother

bytheneckandheldhimoutoverthefall.Therewas

almostnoweighttohimandIneededarest.Icouldfeelthetallyofallthosestepsfuellingafireinmylegmuscles.“What’syourname,little

monster?”Iaskedhim.Helookedatmewitheyes

thatseemeddarkerandwiderthanthedroptomyright.“Name?Noname,”he

said,highandsweet.“That’snogood.I’llgive

youaname,”Isaid.“I’ma

prince,I’mallowedtodothingslikethat.You’llbeGog,andyourbrothercanbeMagog.”IglancedaroundatRed

Kentwhostoodbehindme,puffing,nottheslightestflickerofcomprehensiononhispeasantface.“Gog,Magog...Jesu,

where’sapriestwhenIneedsomeonetogetabiblicaljoke!”Isaid.“Ineverthought

tomissFatherGomst!”Iturnedbacktoyoung

Gog.“What’reyousohappyabout?OldGorgy-gothupthere,he’stakingyoutobeeatenbythedead.”“Canfight’em,”Gogsaid,

quiet-like.“Lawsaysso.”Ifhefeltuncomfortablebeingheldupbytheneck,hedidn’tshowit.“Whataboutlittle

Magog?”Inoddedtohis

brothersquattingonthestepaboveus.“Hegoingtofighttoo?”Igrinnedatthenotionofthesetwodoingbattlewithdeathmages.“I’llprotecthim,”Gog

said,andhestartedtotwistinmyhand,sohardandfastthatIhadtosethimdown,orelsepitchovertheedgewithhim.Hescamperedtohis

brother’ssideandsetstripedhandtostripedshoulder.

Theywatchedmewiththoseblackeyes,quieterthanmice.“Maybesomesportin

this,”Kentsaidbehindme.“Ibetthelittlestonelasts

longest,”Rikeshouted,andhebellowedwithlaughterasifhe’dsaidsomethingfunny.Healmostslippedoffthen,andthatshutuphislaughingquickenough.“Youwanttowinthis

game,Gog,youleavelittle

Magogtolookafterhimself.”AsIspokethewords,achillsetthehairsstandingonmyneck.“Showmeyou’vethestrengthtolookafteryourself,andmaybeI’llfindsomethingthosenecromancerswantmorethantheywantyourscrawnysoul.”Gorgothstartedupagain,

andthebrothersfollowedwithoutaword.

Iwalkedon,rubbingthescarsonmyforearmswherethehook-briarhadstartedtoitchatmeagain.Icountedathousandsteps,

andIonlystartedoutofboredom,soImissedthefirsttenminutesoftheclimb.Mylegsturnedtojelly,myarmourfeltasthoughitweremadefrominch-thicklead,andmyfeetgottooclumsytofindthestairs.BrotherGains

convincedGorgothtocallaresthaltbystumblingintospace,andwailingforagoodtensecondsbeforetheunseenfloorconvincedhimtoshutup.“Allthesestairssowecan

reach‘TheGreatStair’!”IspatamessofphlegmafterdeardepartedBrotherGains.Makinflashedmeagrin

andwipedthesweatycurlsfromhiseyes.“Maybethe

necromancerswillcarryusup.”“Goingtoneedanew

cook.”RedKentspatafterGains.“Can’tanyonebeworse

thanGainsy.”FatBurlowmovedonlyhislips.Therestofhimslumpedlifeless,huggingthewall.IthoughtitratherpooreulogyforGains,sinceBurlowseemedtoputawaymoreoftheman’s

culinaryeffortsthantherestofusputtogether.“Rikewouldbeworse,”I

said.“Iseehimtacklinganeveningmealthewayheapproachesburningavillage.”Gainswasallright.He’d

carvedmeabonefluteonce,whenIfirstcametothebrothers.Ontheroad,wetalkawayourdeadwithacurseandajoke.Ifwe’dnotliked

Gains,nobodywouldhavemadecomment.IfeltalittlestupidforlettingGorgothwalkussohard.Itookthebittertasteofthatandsetanedgeonit,tosaveforthenecromancersiftheywantedtotestourmettle.Wefoundthetopofthe

stairwithoutlosinganymorebrothers.Gorgothtookusthroughaseriesofmany-pillaredhalls,echoingly

empty,theceilingssolowthatRikecouldreachuptotouchthem.Widecurvingrampssteppedusupfromonehalltothenext,eachthesameastheonebefore,dustyandempty.Thesmellcreptuparound

us,soslowlythattherewasn’tapointwhereIcouldsayInoticedit.Thestinkofdeathcomesinmanyflavours,butIliketothinkI

recognizetheReaperinallhisguises.Thedustbecamethickeras

wemadeourway,aninchdeepinplaces.Hereandtheretheoccasionalbonelayhalf-covered.Thenmorebones,thenaskull,thenthree.WheretheBuilder-stonecrackedandthewatersoozed,thedustbecameagreymudandflowedinminiaturedeltas.Ipulledaskullfrom

onesuchswamp.Itcamefreewithasatisfyingsquelchandmudpouredfromitssocketslikesyrup.“Sowherearethese

necromancersofyours,Gorgoth?”Iasked.“WemakeforTheGreat

Stair.Theywillfindus,”hesaid.“They’vefoundyou.”She

slidaroundthepillarclosesttome,awomanfromthe

nightofmyimagination.Shemovedherbodyovertheroughstoneasifitweresheerestsilk.Hervoicefellontheearlikevelvet,darkandrich.Notoneswordleftits

scabbard.TheNubanliftedhiscrossbowandheavedtheloadingleverback,bunchingtheheavymuscleinhisarmintoablackball.Thenecromancerignoredhim.

Sheletthepillargowithalover’sreluctanceandturnedtofaceme.IheardMakinsuckinhisbreathatmyside.Thewomanmixedsupplestrengthwithasucculencethatyoungprincesdoodleintothemarginsoftheirstudies.Sheworeonlypaintsandribbons,thepatternsswirledacrossherinCelticknotsofgreyonblack.Whenyoumeether,run.

“Wellmet,mylady.”Isketchedheracourtbow.Justrun.“Gorgoth,youbringus

guestsaswellastribute!”Herlaughtersetatinglinginmygroin.Nothingelse.Justrun.Sheofferedherhand.Fora

momentIhesitated.“Andyouwouldbe?”Her

eyes,thathadheldonlythereflectionoffire,nowstole

thegreenIrememberedfromadistantthrone-room.“PrinceHonorousJorg

Ancrath.”Itookherhand,coolandheavy,andkissedit.“Atyourservice.”AndIwas.“Chella.”Adarkfireranin

myveins.ShesmiledandIfeltthesamesmilecrossmyface.Shesteppedcloser.Myskinsangwiththethrillofher.Ibreathedherin,thebitterscentofoldtombs,cut

withthehottangofblood.“Thelittleonefirst,

Gorgoth,”shesaid,withouttakinghereyesfrommine.Fromthecornerofmyeye

IsawGorgothtakeGoginthehugenessofhishand.Theairbecamesuddenly

icy.Thesoundcameofrockgrindingonrock,settingmyteethonedge.Thehallitselfseemedtoletforthasighofrelease,andwiththat

exhalationmistsswirledupamongus,wraithsfindingmomentaryforminthepalecoils.Ifeltmyfingerfreezeinthemuckwithintheskullthatdangledinmygrasp.Thescrapingceasedas

bonesfoundtheirpartners.Firstoneskeletonroseinacomplexballetofinter-articulation,thenthenext.Themistsboundeachboneinaspectralmockeryofflesh.

IsawGogexplodeintoafitofthrashingandwrithingwithinGorgoth’simplacablegrip.LittleMagogstoodhisgroundasthefirstskeletonadvancedonhim.Gogwastoofargoneinhisragetodemandrelease.Theroarthatcamefromhimsoundedcomical,sohigh-pitchedandthickwithfury.Thenecromancerslipped

herarmaroundme.Ican’t

tellyouhowitfelt.WeturnedtowatchMagogfight.Theleucrotachildreached

uptotheskeleton’sknee,nohigher.Hesawhismoment,orrather,thoughthedid,andthrewhimselfforward.Youcan’texpectmuchfromafive-year-old.Theundeadcaughthiminbonyfingersandthrewhimcarelesslyagainstapillar.Magoghithard,leavingitbloody.He

didn’tcrythough.Hestruggledtogetupasthesecondskeletonsteppedtowardhim.Aflapofthechild’sprettyskinhungawayfromtheredfleshofhisshoulder.Ilookedaway.Evenwith

Chella’ssoftnesspressedtome,thissporttastedsourinwaysIdidn’tunderstand.MyeyesfoundGog,stillfightinginGorgoth’sfists.Gorgoth

hadbothhandsonthechildnow,thoughIdoubtedevenIcouldfightoutofhissinglegrip.Ihadn’timaginedstrengthlikethatcouldlieinsosmallathing.TheskeletonhadMagogin

onehand,twobonefingersoftheotherhandreadytodrivethroughhiseyes.Itseemedtomethata

stormrose,thoughmaybeitrosejustinme,astorm

lashingamoonlessnightandshowingtheworldinlightningslices.Achild’svoicehowledinmyheadandwouldnotquietthoughIcursedittosilence.Everyfibreofmestrainedtomove—andnopartofmesomuchastwitched.Hooksheldme.Thereinthecradleofthenecromancer’sarmsIwatchedtheskeletalfingersplungetowardtheblackpools

oftheleucrota’seyes.WhenthehandexplodedI

wasassurprisedasanyone.Abigcrossbowboltwilldothattoahand.TheNubanturnedhisfacetowardme,awayfromthesightsofhisbow.Isawthewhitecrescentofhissmileandmylimbswerefree.Iswungmyarmup,sharpandhard.Theskullinmyhandhitthenecromancer’sfacewitha

mostsatisfyingcrunch.

WhoevermadetheNubanmusthavefashionedhimfrombedrock.Ineverknewamanmoresolid.Heheldhiswordsclose.Fewamongthebrotherssoughthiscounsel,menupontheroadhavelittle

useforconscience,andalthoughheneverjudged,theNubancarriedjudgementwithhim.

30

Iclearedscabbardandfollowedthearcofmyfamilybladetofacethenecromancer.It’soneofthoseswordstheysaycanmakethewindbleed.Appropriatelytheedgefoundonlyemptyair,whichhissed

asifcut.Thenecromancerfellback

tooswiftlyformetoreach.Theskullhadtakenherbysurprise,butIdidn’tthinkI’dcatchheragainsoeasily.Iguesstheskullhitherin

thebridgeofthenose,becausethat’swherethemesswas.Noblood,butadarkstainandawrithingofthefleshasthoughahundredwormswriggled,oneover

another.Forthemostpartthe

brothersstillstoodinthedazethathadheldme.TheNubanworkedtoloadanotherboltintohiscrossbow.Makinhalf-drewhissword.GorgothletgoofGog.Thenecromancertooka

breath,likearaspdrawnoverironwork,rattlinginherthroat.“That,”shesaid,“wasamistake.”

“Sosorry!”Ikeptmyvoicecheerfulandlungedather.Sheslippedaroundthepillar,leavingmetoskewerthestonework.Goghurledhimselfbodily

atMagog,andtorehislittlebrotherfromtheskeleton’sone-handedgrip.Icaughtaglimpseofpalefinger-marksonthechild’sneck.Imovedaroundthepillar

withalittlecaution,onlyto

findthenecromancerhadsomehowslippedbacktoafurtherpillar,fiveyardsoff.“I’mveryparticularabout

whoIallowtoplacespellsonme,”Isaid,turningandaimingaswiftkickatRike.He’shardtomiss.“Comeon,Rikey!Upandat’em!”Rikecametowitha

wordlesshowlofcomplaint,somewherebetweendisturbedwalrusandbear-

prodded-out-of-hibernation.Justinfrontofhimthetwoskeletonsbenttoreachfortheleucrotabrothers,stillatangleoflimbsonthedustyfloor.Rikeloomedoverbothoftheundead,andtookaskullineachhand.Hewrenchedthemtogetherinaclapthatreducedthepairtoshards.Roaringunintelligibly,he

shookhishands.“Cold!”He

graduatedtowords.“Feckingfreezing!”Iturnedtothe

necromancer,somewitticismreadyonmytongue.Thetauntdiedwhereitsat.Herwholefacewrithednow.Thefleshlayshrunkenonherlimbs,pulsingsporadically.Thebodythatseducedmyeyesnowheldalltheallureofafamine-corpse.Sheheldmewithadarkgaze,glitteringin

rottingslaughter.Shelaughedandherlaughtercameasthesoundofwetragsflappingatthewind.Thebrothersstoodwithme

now.Gorgothmadenomove,keepinghisplace.Thelittleleucrotascrouchedtogetherintheshadows.“We’remany,andyou’re

one,mylady.Andadamneduglyoneatthat.Soyou’dbeststepasideandletus

past,”Isaid.SomehowIdidn’tthinkshewasgoingto,butnothingventurednothinggained,astheysay.Thatworm-fleshofhers

crawledintoasmilesowideIcouldseeherjawbonespastthehinge-point.ForasecondherfacerippledandwesawGainsthere,screamingashefell.“Thedeadaremany,

child,”shesaid.“I’llletyou

pass—intotheirrealm.”Thetemperaturefell,and

keptfalling,liketherewasnobottomforittohit.Itwentfromuncomfortable,topainful,toplainstupidinnotimeatall.Andthenoise.Theawfulgrindingastheskeletonsbuiltthemselvesfrompiecesandwrappedthemselvesinthespirit-mistthatrosearoundus.Asoundtomakeyouwanttopullyour

teethout.ThetorchinMakin’shandgaveupitsstruggleagainstthecoldandgutteredout.Themisthidallbutour

nearestneighbours.Theskeletonscameatusslowly,asifinadream.IfnotforthefireofGorgoth’storch,we’dhavebeenleftinutterdarkness.Iswungmyswordatthe

firstattacker.Thehiltfelt

frozenontomyhand,butIwasn’tinclinedtodropitinanycase.Ineededtheexercisetokeepwarm.Theskeletondisintegratedintoashowerofbrittlebone.Ihadnotimetocheerbeforethenextcamelurchingoutofthefog.Wefelltothefight,and

timeleftus.Wehunginafreezinglimbowhereonlytheshatteringofboneandtherise

andfallofswordsheldmeaning.EverytimeIcutghost-fleshitseemedthatthecoldbitalittledeeperintome.Theswordgrewheavyinmyhanduntilitfeltasifthey’dfashioneditfromlead.IsawRoddatdie.A

skeletoncaughthimwithhisguarddown.Bonyfingersfoundeithersideofhisheadandawhitenessspreadfromthem;thelivingfleshdying

wheretheghostfleshtouched.Hewasaweasel,wasRoddat,butItookapleasureincuttinginhalfthedeadthingthatkilledhim.Behindmesomeonescreamed.SoundedlikeBrotherJobe.Itwasn’tthekindofscreamyougetupfrom.Makinfoundhiswaytomy

side,frostonhisbreastplate,blueinhislips.“Theyjust

keepcoming.”Icouldheararoaring

behindus.Themistseemedtoswallowsound,buttheroaringrippedonthrough.“Rike?”Ihadtoshoutto

beheardaboveit.“Gorgoth!Youwanttosee

himfight.He’samonster!”Makinshouted.Ihadtosmileatthat.Theyjustkeptcoming.

Moreandmore,rankbyrank,

outofthedark.Somebodydiedbesideme.Icouldn’ttellyouwho.Wemusthavesmashed

twohundredofthebastardsandstilltheykeptcoming.Myswordgotcaughtinthe

ribsoftheskeletonI’dswungat.Notenoughforceintheblow.Makinshattereditsneckwithaflatswing.“Thanks.”Thewordcame

outblunt,throughnumblips.

I’mnotgoingtodiehere.Ikeptrunningthethoughtthroughmyhead.Itheldlessconvictioneachtime.I’mnotgoingtodiehere.Ifelttoocoldtothink.Notgoingtodiehere.Swinglowtocutoffthosereachinghands.Thesebastardsdon’tevenfeelit.Thebitchfeltitthough,whenIbrokeherface.Thebitch.Whenindoubt,letyour

hateleadyou.NormallyI’drejectthatadvice.Itmakesamanpredictable.Butthere,inthatmiserablehallofbones,Iwaspastcaring.HatewasallIhadtokeepmewarm.Icutaskeletondownandlungedpast.“Jorg!”IheardMakin’s

startledshoutbehindme,thenthedarknesstookmysightandthemistthrewathickblanketoverthecrashof

battle.Oh,itwasblackoutthere.

Sodarkastoreachinsideyouandripoutallmemoryofcolour.Iswungmyswordafewtimes,brokesomebones,carvedairforawhile,thenhitapillarwhichshookthedamnthingoutofmyfrozengrip.Ihuntedmyswordfrantically,withhandstoonumbtofindmyface.GraduallyitcametomethatIwasfreeofthe

skeletons.Nobonefingerssoughtmeinthenight.WithoutswordordirectionIstumbledon.Thebitch.She’dbe

somewherenear.Surely.Waitingtotrapoursoulsaswedied.Waitingtofeed.Istoppedandstoodasstill

asmyshiveringwouldletme.Thenecromancerhadliftedtheveil.JustliketheNubansaid,shehadliftedtheveil

betweentheworldsandthedeadwerecomingthrough.IfIstoppedher,they’dstopcoming.Ilistened,listeneddeep,toasilenceasvelvetasthedark.Iheldmorestill,strainingforher,tightandfocused.“Cloves.”Mylipsformed

theword.Iwrinkledmynose.Oilofcloves?Thescentdrewmeon.Ithungfainterthanfaintbut,withnothingto

fightagainst,itheldme.Iletitcarrymeforward,swaying,turning,seekingthesource.Myhandsfoundanarrow

doorwayandIsteppedthroughintoachamberlitbytheflickersofadroppedtorch.Iunderstoodthescent.The

Nuban’scrossbowlayafootfromthetorch,droppedcarelessly,thecabledrawnbuttheboltspilledtothe

stones.He’dbrokenfromthebrotherstohunther.Beatenmetothechase.“Necromancer,”Isaid.Shestoodatthemouthof

oneoftheBuilders’shafts.Thesquaremawfilledtherearofthechamberbehindherandthefeeblelightcouldnotplumbitsdepths.SheheldtheNubanbeforeher,holdinghisheadtoonesideandhermouthtothestraining

cablesofhisneck.Icouldseethetensioninhisthickarms,buthisfingerscurleduselessbyhissidesandhisbroadswordlayathisfeet,hiltjuttingintospaceovertheedgeoftheshaft.Thenecromancerliftedher

facefromtheNuban’sneck.Blooddrippedfromherteeth.Whateverstrengthshegleanedfromithadrestoredherlooks.Thebloodranover

fulllipsanddownaperfectthroat.“Yousentsuchafreshone

tohuntmedown,PrinceJorg,”shesaid.“Mmmm,flavouredwithheathenspices.Ithankyou.”Ikneltandpickedupthe

Nuban’sbow.Theweightofitalwayssurprisedme.Isettheboltinplace.Shemovedtousehimasashield,herheelstothepit.

“You’recold,myprince,”shesaid.Thesuddenmusicofhervoicecaughtmeoffguard.Itrandeep,richwithcomplexity.“Icouldwarmyou.”Mytiredbodythrilledwith

thedarkmelodyofher.IttookthememoryofGains’sfacecrawlingacrossherworm-fleshtostopmerisingtohercall.Iliftedthebow.IknewIcouldn’tholditfor

long.“It’sgrave-coldthat’sin

you.”Hervoicebecameanangryhiss.“Itwillkillyou.”Shesmiledatmeoverthe

Nuban’sshoulder,enjoyinghishelplessness.“You’retrembling,Jorg.Putthebowdown.Youprobablycouldn’tevenhityourfriendhere,letaloneme.”Itfeltsotempting.Putthe

bowdown.

“He’snotmyfriend,”Isaid.Sheshookherhead.“He’d

dieforyou.Icantasteitinhisblood.”“You’replayingthewrong

gamewithme,dead-thing.”Iraisedthebowandsightedit.Thetremorinmyarmskepttheaim-pointjumping.Anyworseandtheboltwouldhaveshakenfromitsgroove.Shelaughedatme.“Ican

seethetiesthatbindtheliving.Youonlyhavetwofriends,PrinceJorg.You’reasboundtothissweet-bloodedmanasanysontohisfather.”Sacrifice.Shesetherfingerstothe

redholesintheNuban’sneck.“Letmehavetheothers.Letmetaketheirlife-juice,andyouandhim,youcanstaywithme.Youcan

helpmeharvesttheleucrota.Thereareseveraltribes,someofthemquitefractious.Thereareothernecromancersagainstwhomalivingally,oneassharpasyou,wouldbemostuseful.”Playthegame.Shesmiled,andthatdark

firelitinmeagain.“Ilikeyou,Prince.Wecanruleunderthemountain,together.”Sexdrippedoffher

words.NotthatpallidrollinthesheetsthatSallysurrendered,butsomethingpotent,unseen,andconsuming.Sheofferedmeadraw.Life,power,andcommand.Butinherservice.Playtowin.TheNuban’seyeswereon

mine.Forthefirsttimeever,Icouldreadwhatheheldthere.Icouldhavetakenanythingelse.Icouldhavetaken

hatred,orfear,orpleading.Butheforgaveme.ChooOom!ThebolthittheNuban

squareinthechest.Itputaholethroughbothofthemandtookthemofftheedge.Neitherofthemscreamed,andittookforeverbeforetheyhitthebottom.

Mostmenhaveatleastoneredeemingfeature.FindingoneforBrotherRikerequiresastretch.Is“big”aredeemingfeature?

31

Icamebacktofindthebrothersnursingtheirwoundsamongdriftsofbrokenbone.Roddat,Jobe,Els,andFrenklaystretchedout,apartfromthegroup.Deathmakeslepersofeventhemostpopularmen.Ididn’tbother

withthem:anylootwouldbelonggone.“Thoughtyou’dleftus,

BrotherJorg.”RedKentsparedmeaglancefrombeneathloweredbrowsandreturnedtothebusinessofwhetstoneandsword.That“brother”heldanote

ofreproach.Anoteattheleast,perhapsawholesymphony.No“prince”fortherunaway.

Makinwatchedmewithdarkspeculation,sprawledonthefloor,toospenttoprophimselfagainstapillar.Rikeheftedhimselftohis

feet.Hecametowardmeslowly,polishingaringagainsttheleatherpaddingofhisbreastplate.IrecognizeditasRoddat’sluck-ring,anicepieceofyellowgold.“Thoughtyou’dleftus,

BrotherJorgy,”hesaid.He

loomedoverme,abroadandbroodingform.There’ssome,likeLiar,

thataren’tmuchtolookat,andit’sasurpriseforfolkswhentheyfindoutwhatatrulynastybastardthey’redealingwith.Rikeneversurprisedanyonethatway.Themenaceofhim,thesheerbrutality,hisloveofotherpeople’spain,well,MotherNaturewroteitineveryline

ofhimjusttowarnus.“TheNubanisdead.”I

ignoredRikeandlookedtoMakin.IpulledtheNuban’scrossbowoffmybackandshowedit.Nodoubtafterthat.Themanwasdead.“Good,”saidRike.“Serves

himrightforrunning.Neverdidlikethatweaselcoward.”IhitRikeashardasI

could.Inthethroat.Imadenoconsciousdecision.IfI’d

givenitthesmallestmoment’sconsideration,I’dhaveheldmyblow.Imighthavestoodachanceagainsthimwithasword,butneverwithbarehands.Actually“barehands”is

goingtoofar.Ihadmygauntletson,rivetediron.Istoodsixfoottallatfourteen,lean,buthardwithmusclefromswingingaswordandcartingmyarmouraround.I

knewhowtopunchtoo.Iputmywholeweightbehindthatblow,andeveryounceofmystrength.Ironknucklescrunched

intoRike’sbull-throat.Imaynothavebeenthinkingwithmyhead,butthankfullysomepartofmehadn’tabandonedallsense.PunchingRike’sbluntfacewouldhaveprobablybrokenmyfistandjusttickledhimalittle.

Hegaveakindofgruntandstoodthere,lookingslightlybewildered.IsupposedtheideathatI’djustcommittedsuicideinsuchgrandstyletooksomegettingusedto.Somewhereinthebackof

myminditdawnedonmethatI’dmadeaverybigmistake.Therestofmedidn’tmuchcare.Ithinkblindrage,andthepureenjoymentof

usingRikeasapunch-bag,figuredinequalmeasure.SinceI’dbeenoffereda

secondfreeblow,Itooktwo.Aniron-cladkneedrivenaccuratelyintothegroinwillgivepauseforthoughteventoaseven-footmaniacwho’stwiceyourweight.RikefoldedupobliginglyandIbroughtbothfistsdowntogetheronthebackofhisneck.

IstudiedthefightingartsoftheNipponwithTutorLundist.HebroughtabookonthesubjectwithhimfromtheUtterEast.Pageuponrice-paperpageoffightingstances,katamoves,andanatomicaldiagramstoshowthepressurepoints.I’msureIhitthetwostunpointsonthebackofRike’sneck,andIknowIhithard.Iblamehimforbeingtoo

stupidtoknowhowtheywork.Rikeswungatme.Alucky

thing,becauseifhe’dgrappledmehe’dhavetwistedmyheadoffinnotime.Hisvambracecaughtmyribcage.IguessifI’dnotbeenwearingthatbreastplateallmyribswouldhavebroken,ratherthanjustthetwo.Theforcetookmeoffmyfeetandsentmesliding

amongthebones.Ifetchedupagainstoneofthosepillarswithapainfullittleclang.Icouldhavedrawnmy

swordthen.Itwouldhavebeentheonlysensibledecision.Againstalltheunwrittenrules,ofcourse.Istarteditwithapunchandthatwasthewaythethingshouldhaveended.Butwhenyouweighalossoffacewiththebrothersagainsthaving

Rikeactuallyripyourfaceoff,well,it’snotaharddecision.Ipickedmyselfup.“Come

here,youfatbastard.”Thewordsemerged

withoutaby-your-leave.Theangerspokeforme.Angerathavinglostcontrol,morethatnowthanangerathimcallingtheNubanacoward.TheNubandidn’tneedRikebeatenbloodytoprovehis

courage.Angryatbeingangry—there’sawormthatwilleatitstailandnomistake.IshouldhaveOroborusonmyfamilycrest.Rikerushedmewiththat

wordlesshowlofhis.Hereachedafairclip.NotmanycastledoorswouldstopLittleRikeyatthatspeed.Prettyscary,unlessyouknowhecan’tturncorners.Isteppedasideniceand

sharp,cursingatmyribs.Rikehitthepillarandbouncedoff.Tohiscreditseveralbitsofstonecameloose.Ipickedupagoodstoutthighboneandsmackedhimaroundtheheadwithitashetriedtogetup.Thethingcrackedalmostintwo,soIfinishedthejobandhadmyselftwoknob-endedclubs.Thesinglemostdepressing

thingaboutfightingRike

wouldhavetobethewayhe’dneverstaydown.Hecameatme,abitwoozynow,butsnarlingdirethreatsandmeaningeveryoneofthem.“Gonnafeedyouyourown

eyeballs,boy.”Hespatoutatooth.Idancedbackandhithim

inthefacewiththelongerofmytwoclubs.Hespatoutanothertoothatthat.Ihadtolaugh.Theangerleftmeand

itfeltgood.SoRikelumberedafterme,

andIkeptmydistance,cloutinghimagoodonewhenIcould.TheclosestthingIcanthinkofisbear-baiting.Whack!Growl.Clang!Snarl!Ihadthegiggles,whichwasabadthing,becauseoneslipandhereallywouldhaveme.Ifhegotjustoneofthosepawsofhisonmeandgotagrip...

well,Iwouldbeeatingmyowneyeballs.Hedidthingslikethat.Thebrothersstartedtolay

betsandclapthesport.“I’llpullyourgutsout.”

Rikeseemedtohaveanendlesssupplyofthreats.Unfortunatelyheseemedto

haveanendlesssupplyofenergytoo,andmydancingdayswerecomingtoanend,myfootworkgettingalittle

clumsy.“Breakeverylittlebonein

thatprettyfaceo’yours,Jorgy.”Ourcircletookusbackto

whereIthrewthefirstblow.“Pullthoseskinnyarmsout

oftheirsockets.”Helookedanevilsightwithbloodspillingdownhischin.Isawmychance.Iran

straightathim,takinghimbysurpriseyetagain.Inthelong

runitpromisedtobeapushingcontestasunequalasRikeagainstthepillar,buthegaveastep.AstepgavemeallI’dhopedfor.HehitMakin’slegs,stumbledandwentoverbackward.IscoopeduptheNuban’sbow,andbeforeRikecouldgetupIwasoverhim.Ihadthesnoutofthebow,aheavyironfalcon,poisedaboveRike’sface.

“What’sitgoingtobe,LittleRikey?”Iasked.“IthinkIcancrushyourskulllikeaneggbeforeyougetyourhandsonme.Shouldwetryitandsee?Ordoyouwanttotakethatback?”Hegavemeablanklook.“AbouttheNuban,”Isaid.

Rikehadgenuinelyforgottenwhathe’dsaid.“Uh.”Doubtcrinkledhis

brow.Hetriedtofocusonthe

bow.“Itakeitback.”“Christbleeding!”I

sagged,exhausted,clothedinsweat.Thebrotherssurgedroundusthen,anewlifeinthem,payingtheirbets,relivingthemomentwhenRikechargedthepillar.Imadenoteofwhobackedme:Burlow,Liar,Grumlow,Kent,theoldermenwhocouldlookpastyouth.Makinevenwentsofarastogetup

offthefloor.Heclappedahandtomyshoulder.“YouandtheNuban,youcaughther?”Inodded.“IhopeshewenttoHell

screaming,”Makinsaid.“Shediedhard,”Isaid.An

easylie.“TheNuban...”Makin

hadtohuntforthewords.“Hewasbetterthantherestofus.”

Ididn’thavetohunt.“Yes.”

Gorgothhadn’tstirredwhileIfoughtRike.Hesatonthecoldstone,legscrossedunderhim.Hereandtheretheghost-fleshofskeletalfingershadmarkedhishidewith

deadspots,littlewhitefingerprintswherethefleshhaddied.Hedidn’tmove,buthewatchedmewiththosecat’seyesofhis.Ayardortwofrom

GorgothIcouldmakeoutasmalldarkhuddle,GogandMagogclutchedonetoanother.“Afinefight,lad,”Icalled

toGog.“Youwereasgoodasyourword.”

Gogliftedhisfacetome.Magog’sheadfloppedback,rollingonaneckscoredbywhitelines,deadwhitelinesacrosshistigerstripes.Ifoundmyselfkneeling

besidethem.GogsnarledwhenItouchedhisbrother,buthedidn’tstopme.Magogfeltsolightinmyhands,acuriousmixofbonystarvationandchildsoftness.“Yourbrother,”Isaid.For

thelongestmomentIhadnothingelsetosay,asthoughmythroatclosedawayallmywords.“Solittle.”Irememberedhimscamperingupthoseendlessstairs.IntheendIhadtopressonmybrokenribstoletthepainsharpenmeandchaseoutthestupidity.Isetthedeadchilddown,

andstood.“Youfoughtforhim,Gog.Stupid,butmaybe

you’llfindcomfortinit.”Maybehisreproachwon’tfollowyouthelengthofyourdays.“Wehaveanewmascot!”I

announcedtothebrothers.“Goghereisnowpartofourmerryband.”Gorgothstartedupatthat.

“Thenecromancers—”Isteppedinbeforeherose

tohisfeet,theironfaceoftheNuban’scrossbowthree

inchesfromhisridgedforehead.“What’sitgoingtobe,Gorgoth?”Iasked.Hesathimselfbackdown.Iturnedaway.“Weburn

thedead.I’mnothavingthemcomebacktosayhello.”“Burn’emwithwhat?”

RedKentwantedtoknow.“Bonesispoorkindling,

Jorth.”Elbanhawkedawadofphlegmintothenearestpileasiftoprovehispoint.

“We’llhaveusabone-fireevenso,”Isaid.“Isawatardriponmywayback.”Sowetookthebonesto

wheretheblackstuffleakedslowandstinkingfromacrackintheBuilder-stoneanddaubedthemonebyone.WemadeaheapforRoddatandtheothers,andalittlepyrefortheleucrota.ElbanbuiltitliketheonestheyfashionforkingsintheTeutonlands.

IsetthefirewithMakin’storch.“Goodnight,lads,”Isaid.“Thievesandroad-scumthelotofyou.TelltheDevilIsaidtotakegoodcareofyou.”IgavethetorchtoGog.

“Lightitup,youdon’twantthenecromancersplayingwithhisbones.”Aheatcameofftheboy,asifafirebankedinsidehimhadwoken.Anyhotterandhemightlightthe

pyrewithoutthetorch.Hesettheflameandwe

backedoffbeforethebillowingsmoke.Tarneverburnsclean,butIwasn’tsorryfortheveilitgaveus.Goggavemethetorchback.TheinkypoolsofhiseyesheldtheirsecretseventighterthantheNuban’sdid,butIcouldseesomethinginthere.Akindofpride.Wemadeourwayon.Ilet

BurlowcarrytheNuban’sbow.Aprincemustexercisesomeprivilegeafterall.Wewalkedwithourtar-bonetorchessmoking,andGorgothattheforetofindthepath.Heshowedusmileaftermileofdullbox-chamber,squarecorridor,andlowgallery.IguesswhentheBuildersboughttheirhellfirefrom

Lucifertheymusthavepaidforitwiththeirimaginations.TheGreatStairtookmeby

surprise.“Here.”Gorgothhaltedata

spotwhereanaturaltunnelundercutthepassage.TheGreatStairprovedto

belessgrandthanIhadimagined.NomorethantenyardsacrossinanyplaceIcouldsee,andasqueezeattheentrance.Atleastitwas

naturalthough.Myeyeshadachedforacurvedline,andhereIcouldrestthem.Someancientstreamhadcarvedapathdownafault-line,steppingbyleapsandboundsintothedeepplaces.Thewaters,longsincereducedtoatrickle,drippedinarockygulletassteepandtwistingasamancouldhopefor.“Seemswehaveaclimb

aheadofus,”Isaid.

“Thesestairsarenotfortheliving.”Anecromancerinsinuatedhimselfintothenarrowentrance,pullinghimselffromtheshadowsasthoughtheyclunglikewebs.HecouldhavebeenatwintothebitchthattooktheNuban.“ForChrist’ssake!”Idrew

myswordandswungonarisingarcinthesamemotion.Hisheadcameoffclean.Iletthemomentumcarryme

round,andbroughtthebladedownwithallmystrength,overhandonthepulsingstumpofhisneck.Theblowcaughthimbeforehecouldfallandcutdeep,splittinghissternum.“I’mnotinterested!”I

shoutedthewordsathiscorpseasIletitsweightpullmetotheground.Aswithsomanythingsinlife,thebringingofdeathissimplya

matteroftiming.ImadethemistakeofgivingChellaamomentandshetookit.Janeshouldhavetoldmejusttoattackher,nothingelse,justattackher.Forgetrunning.IhadinmindthatifmyreplytoChella’sfirstwordshadbeenawell-judgedswordblow,theNubanmightyetbestandingwithme.Asavagetwistonmy

swordhiltopenedthe

necromancer’schest.Ikeepalittledaggerinmyboot,wickedsharp.Itookitout,andwhilstthebrotherswatchedinsilenceIcutoutthenecromancer’sheart.Thethingpulsedinmyhand,warmish,lackingtheheatofthelivingorthecoldofthedead.Hisbloodlackedacertainvitalitytoo.Whencuttingoutaheart—andIspeakfromexperiencehere—

expecttobecrimsonheadtotoe.Thenecromancer’sbloodlookedpurpleinthetorchlightandbarelyreachedpastmyelbows.“Ifanymoreofyou

bastardswanttowastemytimewithstupidmelodrama,pleaseformanorderlyqueue.”Iletmyvoiceechodownthecorridors.TheNubanoncetoldme

aboutatribeinNubathatate

theheartandthebrainsoftheirenemies.Theythoughtitgavethemtheirfoes’strengthandcunning.IneversawtheNubandoit,buthedidn’tdismisstheidea.Iheldtheheartuptomy

mouth.“Prince!”Makinstepped

towardme.“That’sevilmeat.”“Thereisnoevil,Makin,”I

said.“There’stheloveof

things,power,comfort,sex,andthere’swhatmenarewillingtodotosatisfythoselusts.”Ikickedtheruinofthenecromancer’scorpse.“Youthinkthesesadcreaturesareevil?Youthinkweshouldfearthem?”Itookabite,asbigasI

couldmanage.Rawfleshischewy,butthenecromancer’shearthadsomegiveinit,likeagamebirdhunguntilit’s

readytodropoffthehook.Thebittergallofthebloodscouredmythroat.Iswallowedmymouthfulanditsliddown,slowandsour.Ithinkforthefirsttime

Burlowwatchedmeeatwithoutthegreeneyesofjealousy.Ithrewtherestofitdown.Thebrothersstoodmute,eyeswateringfromthetorch-smoke.That’stheproblemwithtar-torches,you

havetokeepmoving.Ifeltatouchodd.Ihadthefeelingyougetwhenyouknowyoureallyshouldbesomewhereelse,asifyou’dpromisedaduelthatmorningorsomesuchbutcouldn’tquiterememberwhatitwas.Chillsranupmybackandalongmyarms,asifghoststrailedtheirfingersoverme.Iopenedmymouth,then

closedit,interruptedbya

whisper.Ilookedaround.Whisperscamefromeverycorner,justatthatmaddeninglevelwhereyoucanhearthewordsbutnotunderstandthem.Thebrothersstartedtolookaroundtoo,nervous.“Doyouhearit?”Iasked.“Hearwhat?”Makinsaid.Thevoicescamelouder,

angrybutindistinct,louder,amultitudeadvancing,louder.Afaintbreezedisturbedthe

air.“Timetoclimb,

gentlemen.”Iwipedmyhandacrossmymouth,scrapingawaypurplemuckonthebackofmygauntlet.“Let’sseehowfastwecandothis.”Ipickedthenecromancer’s

headfromthefloor,half-expectingtheeyestorolldownandfixmewithaglare.“Ithinkourheartlessfoehasfriendscoming,”Isaid.“Lots

offriends.”

Everyonelikestoeat.Onemanmarchesonhisstomachasmuchasanarmydoes.OnlyFatBurlowdidn’tmuchtaketomarching,andtooktoomuchtomunching.Andsomeofthebrotherswereapt

toholdthatagainstaman.Still,IhadmoretimeforoldBurlowthanIdidformostofmyroad-kin.Ofallofthem,saveMakin,hewastheonlyonewhoownedtoreading.Ofcourseheborewatchingforthat.There’sasayingontheroad,“Nevertrustaletteredman.”

32

WeascendedtheGreatStairwiththescreamsofghostsrisingbeneathus.Theysayfearlendsamanwings.NoneofthebrothersflewuptheStair,butthewaytheyscrambledovertheslicknessofthatrockythroatwould

teachalizardplentyaboutclimbing.Iletthemleadtheway.It

wasasgoodameansasanytotestthefooting.Grumlowfirst,thenLiarandyoungSim.Gogscrambledbehindthem,followedbyGorgoth.Iguessedtheleucrotas’accordwiththenecromancersmightbesomewhatbroken.Makinwasthelastof

them.Hecouldfeelthedead

coming.Isawitinthepallorofhisskin.Helookedlikeadeadthinghimself.“Jorg!Getuphere!

Climb!”Hegrabbedatmyarmashepassed.Ishookhimoff.Icouldsee

ghostsboilingalongthetunneltowardus,otherssteppingfromthewalls.“Jorg!”Makintookmy

shouldersandpulledmetowardtheStair.

Hecouldn’tseethem.Iknewfromthewildsweepofhisgaze.Hiseyesnevertouchedthem.Theclosestofthemlookedtomelikechalkdrawingshalf-erased,hangingintheair.Sketchesofcorpses,somenaked,somecladinrags,orpiecesofbrokenarmour.Acoldnesscamefromthem,reachingformyflesh,stealingwarmthwithinvisiblefingers.

Ilaughedatthem.NotbecauseIthoughttheyhadnopowertoharmme,butbecausetheyhad.IlaughedtoshowthemwhatIcaredfortheirthreat.Ilaughedtohurtthem.Andtheysufferedforit.Thetasteofdeadheart-meatlingeredatthebackofmythroat,andadarkpowerranthroughme.“Die!”Ishoutedatthem,

spittingawaythelaughter.“A

manshouldatleastknowhowtostaydead!”Andtheydid.Ithink.Asif

mywordsheldthemtoobey.Makinhadmedraggedaway,nearlyroundthecorner,butIsawthespiritsstop.Isawpaleflameslightupontheirlimbs,theghostoffire.And,oh,thescreaming.EvenMakinheardit,likethescrapeofnailsonslate,coldwindonamigraine.Weboth

ranthen,closeenoughtoflying.Itwashoursbeforewestopped,athousandfeetormoreuptheStair.Thedownwardtumbleofthelong-vanishedriverpausedheretoscouroutabowl,setaboutwithsmallersinkholesanddecoratedwiththefrozentraceryofstonethatgracesthedeepplacesoftheworld.

“Fuckit.”FatBurlowcollapsedinabonelessheapandlaymotionless.RedKentsatbackagainsta

stalagmite,hisfacecolouredtomatchhisname.Closeby,Elbanspatintoa

sinkholepool,thenturned,wipingmucusfromhiswizenedlips.“Heh!Youlookslikeoneo’themBlushers,Kent.”Kentjustgavehimmean

eyes.“So.”Makinhauledina

hugebreathandtriedagain.“So,Prince,we’reclimbingup.Wellandgood.Butifwekeeponupwe’rejustgoingtoreachtheCastleRed.”Anotherbreath.Alongclimbinarmourwilldothatforyou.“Wemightsurprisethehelloutofthem,comingupoutoftheirvaults,butwe’restilltwiceadozenmen

againstninehundred.”Ismiled.“It’sadilemma

ain’tit,BrotherMakin?CanJorgworkthemagiconemoretime?”Thebrothersallhadaneye

onmenow.AllsaveBurlow,afterthatclimbhewouldn’tturnhisheadforanythinglessthantheSecondComing.Ipulledmyselftomyfeet

andgavealittlebow.“ThatJorg,thatPrinceJorg,he’s

gotamadnessinhim.Astrangertoreason,alittleinlovewithdeathperhaps?”Makinhadafrownonhim,

worried,wantingmetoshutup.Istrodearoundthem.

“YoungJorg,he’sapttothrowitallawayonawhim,gamblethebrotherhoodonwildchance...butsomehow,justsomehow,itkeepsturningouta-right!”

IclappedahandtoRike’sgreasyheadandhegavemeabruise-facedscowl.“Isitluck?”Iasked.“Or

somesortofroyalmagic?”“Ninehundredo’them

BlushersupthereintheCastleRed,Jorth.”Elbangesturedattheceilingwithhisthumb.“Nowaywecanturnthemoutofthere.Notifweweretentimesthenumber.”

“Thewisdomofage!”AndIcrossedtoElbanandthrewanarmaroundhisshoulders.“Ohmybrothers!Imayhavegivenourpriestaway,butitsorrowsmethatyourfaithdepartssoswiftlyonhisheels.”IsteeredElbantotheStair.

Ifeltthetensioninhimaswenearedthepointwherethefloorfellaway.HerememberedtheWatch

Master.Ipointedupthestepped

rivercourse.“That’swhereourpathlies,OldFather.”Ilethimgoandhedrewin

asigh.ThenIturnedtofacethebrothersonceagain.Gorgothwatchedmewithhiscat’seyes,Gogwithstrangefascinationfrombehindapillarofrock.“NowI’mthinkingthatI’ll

findwhatI’mlookingfor

beforewereachtheunder-vaultsoftheCastleRed.”Iputalittleironinmyvoice.“ButifitturnsoutwehavetomurderusaquietpathtoDukeMerl’sbedchamber,andIhavetoplanthimonmyswordlikeapuppetonasticktogethimtosigntheplaceovertome...”Isweptmygazeacrossthem,andevenBurlowmanagedtolookup.“Then...”Iletmyvoicefill

thechamberanditechoedmarvellously.“Thenthatiswhatyouwillfeckingwelldo,andthefirstbrotherthatdoubtsmyfeckingluck,willbethefirsttoleavethislittlefamilyofours.”Ilefttheminnodoubtthatsuchapartingwouldbeungentle.Soweclimbedagain,and

intimewelefttheGreatStairbehindus,findingoncemorethebox-hallsoftheBuilders.

Gorgoth’sknowledgereachedonlytotheStair’sfootsoIledtheway.Linesdancedinmymind.Rectangles,squares,precisecorridors,alletchedintoscorchedplasteek.Aturnthere,achamberontheleft.Andwithsuddencertainty,likeoneofLundist’spotionsturningtocrystalattheadditionofthesmallestgrain,Iknewwherewewere.

Ipicturedthemapandfollowedit.TheBuilders’booksatinmypack,andI’dreturnedtoitspagesmanytimesonourjourneyfromTheFallingAngel.Noneedtodigitoutnow.Letthebrothershavetheirmagicshow.Wecametoafive-way

intersection.Iputonehandtomyforeheadandlettheotherwandertheairasifseeking

ourpath.“Thisway!We’reclose.”Anopeningontheleft,

edgedbytheancientrust-stainofalongvanisheddoor.Ipausedandlitanewtorch

oftarandbonefromtheblackenedstickofmyoldone.“Andhereweare!”Withmybestcourtly

flourishIpointedtheway,thensteppedthrough.

WeenteredanantechambertothevaultIsoughtfrommymap.Thedoorthatblockedthewayfromourchamberintothevaultstoodmaybetenfoottall,ahugecircularvalveofgleamingsteel,setaboutwithrivetsthickasmyarm.DamnedifIknowwhatBuilderspellskeptitfromrustingawayliketherest,butthereitwas,big,shiny,and

implacablyinmyway.“Sohow’reyougoingto

openthat?”Rike’swordscameoutmumbled.I’dmashedhislipsupprettygood.Ihadn’ttheslightestidea.“Ithoughtwecouldtry

knockingitdownwithyourhead.”

InamedhimLiarthedayIputaknifethroughhishand.Theknifecameout,butthenamestuck.Hewasameanbitofgristlewrappedroundbone.Truthmightburnhistonguebuthislooksdidn’tlie.

33

“Looksprettysolidtome,”Makinsaid.Icouldn’targue.I’dnever

seenanythingmoresolidthanthatdoor.Icouldhardlyevenscratchitwithmysword.“Sowhat’stheplan?”Red

Kentstoodwithbothhands

onthehiltsofhisshort-swords.Iheldthegleamingwheel

atthecentreofthedoorandleanedback.Thedoorloomedaboveme.Itlookedlikesilver,aking’sransominsilver.“Wecoulddigthrough,”I

said.“Builder-stone?”Makin

raisedaneyebrow.“Tryanyway.”Ireleased

thewheelandpointedtoBurlowthenRike.“Youtwo.Startoverthere.”Theymovedforwardwith

shrugs.Rikereachedthespotandkickedthewall.Burlowheldhishandsoutbeforehimandstudiedthemwithaspeculativepout.Ihadpickedthemfor

strength,notinitiative.“Makin,givethemyourflail.Row,let’sputthatwar-

hammerofyourstogoodwork.”Riketookthehammerin

onehandandsettopoundingonthewall.Burlowtookaswingwiththeflailandnearlygotboththespikedironballsinhisfaceastheybouncedback.“Mymoney’sonthewall,”

Makinsaid.AfterfiveminutesIcould

seewe’dbethereawhile.

Thewallfellawaynotinchunksbutinscattersofpulverizedstone.EvenRike’sfuriousattackleftonlyshallowscars.Thebrothersbeganto

settle,leaningbackagainsttheirpacks.Liarsettocleaninghisnailswithasmallknife.Rowputdownhislantern,Grumlowtookoutcards,andtheyhunkereddowntoplayahand.Lost

mostoftheirlootthatway,RowandGrumlow,andpracticenevermadethembetter.Makinpulledoutastickofdriedmeatandsettochewing.“We’veaweek’srationsatmost,Jorg.”Hegotthewordsoutbetweenswallows.Ipacedtheroom.Iknew

weweren’tgoingtodigthrough.I’dgiventhemmake-worktokeepthem

quiet.Oratleastasquietasmenwieldinghammerscanbe.Perhapsthere’snoway

through.Thethoughtgnawedatme,anunscratchableitch,refusingtoletmerest.Thehammeringmadethe

roomring.Thenoisestruckatmyears.Iwalkedtheperimeter,trailingthepointofmyswordalongthewall,deepinthought.Noway

through.Gogcrouchedinacornerandwatchedmewithdarkeyes.Wherethebrotherslay,Isteppedoverthemasthoughtheywerelogs.AsIpassedbyLiar,Ifeltachangeinthetextureofthewall.Itlookedthesame,butbeneathmybladeitfeltlikeneitherstonenormetal.“Gorgoth,Ineedyour

strengthhere,ifyouplease.”Ididn’tlooktoseeifhegotup.

Isheathedmyswordandpulledtheknifefrommybelt.Movinginclose,Iscratchedatthestrangepatchandmanagedtoscorealineacrossthesurface.Itleftmelittlewiser.Notwood.“What?”Thetorchesthrew

Gorgoth’sshadowoverme.“Ihopedyoucouldtell

me,”Isaid.“Oratleastopenit.”Istruckmyfistonthepanel.Itgavethefaintesthint

atsomehollowbehind.Gorgothpushedpastand

feltouttheedges.Itwasaboutayardbyhalfayard.Hestruckitablowthatwouldhavecavedinanoakdoor.Thepanelhardlyshook,buttheedgeontheleftliftedeversoslightly.Hesetthethreethickfingersofeachhandtotheedge,digginginwithdarkredtalons.Beneathhisscarredhidethemuscles

seemedtofighteachother,onesurgingoverthenextinafuriousgameofKingoftheMountain.Forthelongesttimenothinghappened.Iwatchedhimstrain,thenrealizedI’dforgottentobreathe.AsIreleasedmybreath,somethinggaveinsidethewall.Withasnapandthenatorturedgroanthepanelcamefree.Theemptycupboardbehinditprovedto

besomewhatofananti-climax.“Jorg!”Thehammering

hadstopped.IturnedtoseeRikewiping

sweatanddustfromhisface,andBurlowbeckoningmeover.Icrossedtheroomslowly,

thoughhalfofmewantedtorun,andtheotherhalfnottogoatall.“Doesn’tlooklikeyou’re

throughyet,Burlow.”Ishookmyheadinmockdisappointment.“Notgoingtobeneither.”

Rikespatonthefloor.Burlowbrushedthedust

fromtheshallowholetheirlabourhadforged.Twotwistedmetalbarsshowedthrough,beddedintheBuilder-stone.“Reckontheserunthroughthewholewall,”hesaid.

MyeyesstrayedtotheknifeIheldclenchedinonefist.Ihave,onoccasion,punishedthemessenger.Therearefewthingsmoresatisfyingthantakingoutyourfrustrationsuponthebearerofbadtidings.“Reckontheymightat

that.”Ipushedthewordsthroughgrittedteeth.Quickly,beforeFatBurlow

couldopenhismouthagain

andearnhimselfthenameDeadBurlow,Iturnedandwentbacktothesecretcompartment.Justenoughspacetoholdafoldedcorpse.Emptysavefordust.Idrewmyswordandreachedintocheckthebackofthecompartment.AsIdid,astrangechimesounded.“Externalsensors

malfunctioning.Biometricsoffline.”Thevoicecame

fromtheemptycupboard,thetonecalmandreasonable.Ilookedtoeitherside,then

backtothespacebeforeme.Thebrotherslookedupandstartedtogettotheirfeet.“Whatlanguageisthat?”

Makinasked.Theotherswerelookingforghosts,butMakinalwaysaskedgoodquestions.“DamnedifIknow.”I

knewafewlanguages,sixfluentenoughfor

conversationandanothersixwellenoughtorecognizewhenspoken.“Password?”Thevoice

cameagain.Irecognizedthat.“Soyou

canspeakEmpireTongue,spirit.”Ikeptmyswordraised,lookingallaroundtofindthespeaker.“Showyourself.”“Stateyournameand

password.”

BeneaththedustonthebackwallofthecompartmentIcouldseelightsmoving,likebrightgreenworms.“Canyouopenthatdoor?”

Iasked.“Thatinformationis

classified.Doyouhaveclearance?”“Yes.”Fourfootofedged

steelisclearanceenoughinmybook.“Stateyournameand

password.”“Howlonghaveyoubeen

trappedinthere,spirit?”Iasked.Thebrothersgathered

aroundme,peeringintothecompartment.Makinmadethesignofthecross.RedKentfingeredhischarms.Liarpulledhisself-collectedfrombeneathhismailshirt.Alongmomentpassed

whilethegreenworms

marcheddownthebackwall,afloosoflightbeneaththedust.“Onethousandonehundredandelevenyears.”“What’sitgoingtotakefor

youtoopenthatdoor?Gold?Blood?”“Yournameand

password.”“MynameisHonorous

JorgAncrath,mypasswordisdivineright.Nowopenthefeckingdoor.”

“Idon’trecognizeyou.”Somethingaboutthespirit’scalmnessinfuriatedme.Ifithadbeenvisible,I’dhaverunitthroughrightthereandthen.“Youhaven’trecognized

anythingbutthebackofthispanelforelevenhundredyears.”Ikickedthepanelinquestionforemphasisandsentitskitteringacrosstheroom.

“Youarenotauthorizedforchambertwelve.”Ilookedtothebrothersfor

inspiration.Amoreblankseaoffacesishardtoimagine.“Elevenhundredyearsisa

longtime,”Isaid.“Wasn’titlonelythereinthedark,allthoselongyears?”“Iwasalone.”“Youwerealone.Andyou

couldbeagain.Wecouldwallyouupsoyou’dnever

befound.”“No.”Thetoneremained

calm,buttherewassomethingfrenziedinthepatternoflights.“...or,wecouldsetyou

free.”Iloweredmysword.“Thereisnofreedom.”“Whatdoyouwantthen?”Noreply.Ileanedintothe

compartment,farenoughthatIcouldsetmyfingerstothefarwall.Thesurfacebeneath

thedustfeltglassyandcool.“Youwerealone,”Isaid.

“Trammelledinthethousand-yeardarkwithonlymemoriesforcompany.”Whathaditwitnessed,this

ancientspirit,trappedbytheBuilders?IthadlivedthroughtheDayofaThousandSuns,ithadseentheendofthegreatestempire,heardthescreamofmillions.“Mycreatorgaveme

awareness,fora‘flexibleandrobustresponsetounforeseensituations,’”thespiritsaid.“Awarenesshasprovedtobeaweaknessinperiodsofprolongedisolation.Memorylimitationsbecomesignificant.”“Memoriesaredangerous

things.Youturnthemoverandover,untilyouknoweverytouchandcorner,butstillyou’llfindanedgetocut

you.”Ilookedintomyowndarkness.Iknewwhatitwastobetrapped,andtowatchruination.“Eachdaythememoriesweighalittleheavier.Eachdaytheydragyoudownthatbitfurther.Youwindthemaroundyou,asinglethreadatatime,andyouweaveyourownshroud,youbuildacocoon,andinitmadnessgrows.”Thelightspulsedbeneathmyfingers,

ebbingandflowingtothebeatofmyvoice.“Yousitherewithyouryesterdaysqueuingatyourshoulder.Youlistentotheirreproachandcursethosethatgaveyoulife.”Veinsoflightspread

throughtheglassbeneathmypalm,miniaturelightningreachingacrossthewall.Myhandtingled.Ifeltamomentofkinship.

“Iknowwhatyouwant,”Isaid.“Youwantanend.”“Yes.”“Openthedoor.”“TheEM-boltsfailedover

sixhundredyearsago.Thedoorisnotlocked.”Idrovemyswordintothe

panel.Theglassshatteredandabrilliantflashlitthecompartment.Ipushedon,throughasoftnessyieldinglikeflesh,andthingsthat

crunchedandgavelikethebonesofbirds.SomethinghitmeinthechestandIstaggeredback,caughtbyMakin.WhenI’dshakentheafter-imagesfrommyeyesIcouldseemyswordstandingfromtherearwall,smokingandblackened.“Openthedamndoor!”I

shookMakinoff.“But—”Burlowstarted.I

cutthroughhisobjection.

“It’snotlocked.Gorgoth,Rike,giveitadecentpull.Burlow,getinthereandmakethatlardworkforusforonce.”TheydidasIsaid,setting

theirbulktothetask,welloverathousandpoundsofdumbmusclebetweenthem.Foramomentnothinghappened.Anothermoment,andthen,withouttheslightestwhisperfromthehinges,the

massivedoorstoleintomotion.

Theroadmaygoeveron,butwedon’t:wewearout,webreak.Agemakesdifferentthingsofdifferentmen.Itwillhardensome,sharpenthem,toapoint.BrotherElbanhas

thattoughness,likeoldleather.Butintheendtheweaknesscomesandtherot.Perhapsthat’sthefearbehindhiseyes.Likethesalmon,he’sbeenswimmingupstreamallhislife,andheknowsthere’snoshallowswaitingforhim,nostillwaters.SometimesIthinkitwouldbekindnesstomakeaswiftendforElban,beforethefeareatsupthemanhe

was.

34

“Whatisthisplace?”Makinstoodattheentrancewithme.Thevaultstretchedbeyond

sight.Ontheceilingghostlightsflickeredintolife,someobedienttotheopeningofthedoor,othersstrugglingintowakefulness,tardychildren

latefortheday’slesson.Icouldseelittleofthefloorpastthecrushoftreasures.NoHollandergrain-masterownsawarehousesowellpacked.TodescribeitfullywouldrequireallthevocabularyofshapeandsolidsokindlyfurnishedbyEuclidandbyPlato.Cylinderslongerandwiderthanaman,andcubesayardoneachside,laystackedtoscrapethe

Builder-stoneabove,andagainstthewall—conesandspheresinwirecradles,allskinnedwithdust.Rowuponrow,stackuponstack,marchingbeyondsight.“It’sanarmoury,”Isaid.“Wherearetheweapons?”

Rikecametojoinusfromhisstruggleswiththedoor.Hewipedthesweatfromhisbrow,andspatintothedust.“Insidetheboxes.”Makin

rolledhiseyes.“Let’sget’emopenthen!”

Burlowsaid.Hepulledasmallcrowbarfromhisbelt.Itnevertookmuchencouragementtosetthebrotherstolooting.“Surely.”Iwavedhimin.

“Butopenoneatthebackplease.They’reallfilledwithpoison.”Burlowtookafewsteps

intothevaultbeforethatsunk

in.“Poison?”Heturnedroundslow-like.“ThebesttheBuilders

couldmake.Enoughtopoisonthewholeworld,”Isaid.“Andthiswillhelpus

how?”Makinasked.“WesneakintotheCastleRed’skitchensandslipsomeintheirsoup?That’saplanforchildren’sgames,Jorg.”Iletthatslide.Itwasafair

question,andIdidn’tfeellikefallingoutwithMakin.“Thesepoisonscankillby

atouch.Theycankillthroughtheair,”Isaid.Makinputahandtohis

faceanddrewitdowninaslowmotion,pullingathischeeksandlips.“Howdoyouknowthis,Jorg?Ilookedatthatoldbookofyours,therewasnothingaboutthisinthere.”

Istabbedafingertowardthepiledweapons.“ThesearethepoisonsoftheBuilders.”IpulledtheBuilders’bookfrommybelt.“Thisisthemap.Andthat,”IpointedtoGorgoth,“istheevidenceoftheirpotency.HimandtheBlushersoftheCastleRed.”IcrossedtowhereGorgoth

leanedagainstthesilverymassofthedoor.“Ifyouweretosearchthe

depthsofthisvault,andIdon’tadvisethatyoudo,you’llfindfissureswhereundergroundwatershavefoundtheirwayinandout.Andwheredothesewatersrun?”ForamomentIexpected

ananswer,thenIrememberedwhomyaudiencewere.“Wheredoesanywaterrun?”Stilldumblooksandsilence.“Down!”

Iputahandtothedeformedrib-bonesthatreachedoutofGorgoth’schest.Hemadeagrowlthatwouldputagrizzlybeartoshame,andthevibrationofhisribsundercutit.“Downtothevalleywhere,

inthetiniestofdoses,itmakesmonstersofmen.Andwheredidthewaterrunfrom?”Iasked.“Up?”Makinatleastwas

gametotry.“Up,”Isaid.“Soour

poisonwaftsup,andwhathintescapesintotheCastleRedpaintsthefolkthatlivethere,theBlushers,anattractivelobsterred.Which,mybrothers,iswhatitsaysthestuffdoesinthisherebookhandeddownthroughsomethousandyearstoyourownsweetJorgy.”IspunawayfromGorgoth,

caughtupinmydisplay,andmindfulofhisfists.“Andthesepoisons,intheirinterestingboxes,candoallthiswhenwhatwehaveisanancientspill,washedoverforathousandyears.Soallinall,BrotherBurlow,itwouldbebestnottoopenonewithyourcrowbar,justyet.”“Sowhatwillwedowith

them,Jorth?”Elbancametolispatmyelbow.“Sounds

likedirtywork,no?”“Thedirtiest,oldman.”I

clappedahandtohisshoulder.“We’regoingtobuildaslowfire,bankitwell,andrunforourlives.Theheatwillcrackopenthesemarvelloustoys,andthesmokewillmakeacharnelhouseoftheCastleRed.”“Willitstopthere?”Makin

shotmeasharpglance.“Maybe.”Ilookedaround

atthebrothers.“Liar,Row,andBurlow,seetofindingsomefuelforourfire.Bonesandtarifyoumust.”“Jorg,yousaid‘enoughto

poisontheworld,’”Makinsaid.“Theworldisalready

poisoned,SirMakin,”Isaid.Makinpursedhislips.“But

thiscouldspread.ItcouldspilloutoverGelleth.”Burlowandtheothers

stoppedbythedoorandturnedtowatchus.“Myfatheraskedfor

Gelleth,”Isaid.“Hedidnotspecifythenatureofitsdelivery.IfIhandhimasmokingruin,hewillthankmeforit,byGodhewill.Doyouthinkthereisacrimehewouldnotcountenancetosecurehisborders?Evenonecrime?Anysinglesin?”Makinfrowned.“Andif

thefumesrollintoAncrath?”“That,”Isaid,“isarisk

thatIampreparedtoaccept.”Makinturnedfromme,his

handonhisswordhilt.“What?”Iquestionedhis

back,andmyvoiceechoedintheBuilders’dustyvault.Ispreadmyarms.“What?Anddon’tyoudarespeaktomeofinnocents.ItislateinthedayforSirMakinofTrenttochampionmaidsandbabesin

arms.”MyangersprangfrommorethanMakin’sdoubt.“Therearenoinnocents.Thereissuccess,andthereisfailure.Whoareyoutotellmewhatcanberisked?Weweren’tdealtahandtowinwithinthisgame,butIwillwinthoughitbeggarheaven!”Thetiradeleftme

breathless.“Butit’dbesomany,

Jorth,”Elbansaid.You’dthinkseeingme

knifeBrotherGemtnotsomanyweeksearlier,overafarsmallerdispute,wouldhavetaughtthemsense,butno.“Onelife,ortenthousand,

Ican’tseethedifference.It’sacurrencyIdon’tunderstand.”IsetmyswordtoElban’sneck,drawingtooquickforhimtoreact.“IfI

takeyourheadonce,isthatlessbadthantakingitagain,andthenagain?”ButIhadnoappetiteforit.

SomehowlosingtheNubanhadmadewhatbrothersIhadleftseemmoreworthkeeping,scumthoughtheywere.Iputthebladeaway.

“Brothers,”Isaid.“Youknowit’snotlikemetolosemytemper.I’moutofsorts.

Toolongwithoutsightofthesunperhaps,ormaybesomethingIate...”Rikesmirkedatthereferencetothenecromancer’sheart.“You’reright,Makin,todestroymorethantheCastleRedwouldbe...wasteful.”Makinturnedtofaceme,

handstogethernow.“Asyousay,PrinceJorg.”“LittleRikey,getyoujust

oneofthosewonderfultoys.

Thatone,likeagiant’sgonad,ifyouplease.”Ipointedouttheclosestofthespheres.“Don’tdropitmind,andhaveGorgothhelpoutifit’sasheavyasitlooks.We’lltakeitupalittlehigherandsetitcookingforthecastle’sbreakfast.Oneshouldbeenough.”Andwedid.Withhindsight,ifallthe

detailwereknown,Makin’s

standthereintheBuilders’vaultshouldbesufficienttowashthebloodfromhishands,toeraseallhiscrimes,thecathedralatWextennotwithstanding,andmakeofhimaherofittostandbesideanythatmaybefoundinlegend.GiventheswatheofdeathdownwindoftheCastleRed,it’sclearthatthedrasticscaling-downofmyoriginalplansavedtheworldfroma

ratherunpleasantdeath.Oratleastdelayedit.

35

“Weshouldhaveseensomethingbynow,”Makinsaid.Ilookedbackovermy

shoulder.TheuglybulkofMountHonasmadeablackfistagainstthesky,theCastleRedcradledinitsgrip.

Behindusthebrothersstraggled,alineofvagabondslabouringdowntheslope.“Thisdeathwalkssoftly,

Makin,”Isaid.“Aninvisiblehandwithfatalfingers.”Igavehimagrin.“Findingeverybabyinits

crib?”DistastethinnedMakin’sthicklips.“Wouldyouratheritwere

Rikethatfoundthem,orRow?”Iasked.Isetahandto

hisshoulder,gauntlettobreastplate,bothsmearedwiththegreymudfromourescapetunnel.Hehaditinhishairtoo,dryingonblackcurls.“Youseemtroubledoflate,

oldfriend,”Isaid.“Thepastsinsweighsoheavythatyou’reafraidtoaddmore?”Inoticedthatwestood

nearlyofaheight,thoughMakinwasatallman.

Anotheryear’sgrowthandhe’dbetiltinghisheadtomeetmygaze.“Sometimesyoualmost

foolme,you’rethatgood,Jorg.”Hesoundedweary.Icouldseetheweboffinelinesaroundthecornersofhiseyes.“We’renotoldfriends.Alittleoverthreeyearsagoyouwereten.Ten!Maybewe’refriends,Ican’ttell,but‘old’?No.”

“AndwhatisitthatI’msogoodat?”Iasked.Heshrugged.“Playinga

role.Fillinginforlostyearswiththatintuitionofyours.Replacingexperiencewithgenius.”“YouthinkIhavetobeold

tothinkwithanoldhead?”Iasked.“Ithinkyouneedtohave

livedmoretotrulyknowaman’sheart.Youneedto

havemademoretransactionsinlifetoknowtheworthofthecoinyouspendsofreely.”Makinturnedtowatchthecolumncloseonus.Rikecameintoviewatthe

rearoftheline,crestingaridge,blackagainstadawn-palesky.Behindhimthecloudsranoutinribbons,thedirtypurpleofafreshbruise,reachingforthewest.Bandagesonhisupperarm,

andaroundhisbrow,flappedinthebreeze.Somethingtickledatme,

theghostsofwhispers,colderthanthewind.Makinturnedtogo.“Wait—”Screamsnow.Theterrorof

thosealreadydead.Nosoundcame,butMount

Honaslifted,likeagiantdrawingbreath.Alightwokebeneaththerock,bleeding

incandescencethroughspreadingfissures.Inonemoment,themountainvanished,thrownatheaveninaspirallinginferno.And,somewherewithinthatgyre,everystoneoftheCastleRed,fromdeepestvaulttotowerhigh.Abrilliancetookallglory

fromthemorning,makingapalewashoftheland.Rikebecameaflickerofshadow

againsttheblindingsky.Ifeltthehotkissofthatdistantfury,likesunburnonmycheeks.Whatburnssobright

cannotendure.Thelightfailed,leavingusinshadow,thekindofdarknessthatprecedesasquall.Isawthestorm’soutriders,newbornghosts,drivenbeforetherage.Iwatchedthemsweepoutacrosstheland,likethe

ripplefromapond-thrownstone,agreyringwhererockbecamedust,racingfastasthought.Theskyrippledtoo,theribbon-cloudnowwhipsforthecracking.“DearJesu.”Makinlefthis

mouthopen,thoughhehadnomorewords.“Run!”Burlow’sshout

soundedoddlymute.“Why?”Ispreadmyarms

towelcomethedestruction.

Wehadnowheretorun.Iwatchedthebrothersfall.

Timeranslowandthebloodpulsedcoldinmyveins.Betweentwobeatsofmyheart,theblastcutthemalldown,Rikefirst,lostbeneaththegreymaelstrom,achildbeforeanoceanbreaker.Thehotwindtookmyfeet.Ifeltthedeadflowthroughme,andtastedthebittergallofnecromancerbloodonce

more.ForatimeIfloated,like

smokeabovetheslaughter.Ilayinnothing.Iknew

nothing.Apeacedeeperthansleep,until...“Oh!Bravo!”Thevoice

cutintome,tooclose,andsomehowfamiliar.“NowisthewinterofourHundredWarmadefearsomesummerbythisprodigalson.”Hiswordsflowedlikerhyme,and

carriedstrangeaccents.“YoumaulShakespeare

worsethanyouabusehismothertongue,Saracen.”Thisawoman,velvetandrich.Justrun.“HehaswokenaBuilders’

Sun,andyoumakejokes?”Achildspoke,agirl.“You’renotdeadyet,

child?Withthemountainlevelledintothevalley?”The

womansoundeddisappointed.“Forgetthegirl,Chella.

Tellmewhostandsbehindthisboy.HasCoriongrownwearyofCountRenarandtakenanewpiecetotheboard?OrhastheSilentSistershownherhandatlast?”Sageous!Iknewhim.“Shethinkstowinthe

gamewiththishalf-grown

child?”Thewomanlaughed.AndIknewhertoo.The

necromancer.“IsentyoutoHell,with

theNuban’sboltthroughyourheart,bitch,”Isaid.“WhatinKali’sn—”“Hehearsus?”Shecut

acrosshim,Chella,Iknewhervoice,theonlycorpseevertomakemerise.Ihuntedforthem,therein

thesmoke.

“No,it’snotpossible,”Sageoussaid.“Whostandsbehindyou,boy?”Icouldfindnothinginthe

swirlofblindnessenfoldingme.“Jorg?”Awhisperatmy

ear.Thegirlagain.Themonsters’glowingchild.“Jane?”Iwhisperedback,

orthoughtIdid,Icouldn’tfeelmylipsoranyotherpartofme.

“Theetherdoesn’thideus,”shesaid.“Wearetheether.”Ithoughtonthatfora

moment.“Letmeseeyou.”Iwilledit.Ireachedfor

them.“Letmeseeyou.”Louderthistime.AndIpaintedtheirimageonthesmoke.Chellaappearedfirst,lean

andsensualasIfirstmether,thecoilsofherbody-art

spiralledfromethericwisps.Sageousnext.Hewatchedmewiththosemildeyesofhis,widerandmorestillthanmill-pools,asIcuthisformfromnothing.Janesteppedoutbesidehim,herglowfaintnow,amereglimmerbeneaththeskin.Therewereothers,shapesinthemist,onedarkerthantherest,hisshapehalf-known,familiar.Itriedtoseehim,pouredmywillintoit.

TheNubancametomind,theNuban,theglimpseofmyhandonadoor,andthesensationoffallingintospace.Déjàvu.“Wholendsyouthispower,Jorg?”Chellasmiledseductionatme.Shesteppedaroundme,apantheratplay.“Itookit.”“No,”Sageousshookhis

head.“Thisgamehasplayedouttoolongfortrickery.All

theplayersareknown.Thewatcherstoo.”HenoddedtowardJane.Iignoredhim,andkeptmy

eyesonChella.“Ibroughtthemountaindownonyou.”“AndIamburied.Whatof

it?”Anedgeofhertrueagecreptintohervoice.“PrayIneverdigyouout,”

Isaid.IlookedtoJane.“So

you’reburiedtoo?”

Foramomentherglowflickered,andIsawanotherJaneinherplace,thisoneabrokenthing.Aragdollheldbetweenshardsofrockinsomedarkplacewhereshealonegavelight.Bonesstoodfromherhipandshoulder,verywhite,tracedwithblood,blackinthefaintillumination.Sheturnedherheadafraction,andthosesilvereyesmetmine.She

flickeredagain,wholeoncemore,standingbeforeme,freeandunharmed.“Idon’tunderstand.”ButI

did.“PoorsweetJane.”Chella

circledthegirl,nevercomingtooclose.“She’lldieclean,”Isaid.

“She’snotafraidtogo.She’lltakethatpathyoufearsomuch.Clingtocarrionfleshandrotinthebowelsofthe

earthifthat’swherecowardicekeepsyou.”Chellahissed,venomon

herface,thewetflapofdecayinherlungs.Thesmokebegantotakeheragain,writhingaroundherinserpentcoils.“Killthisoneslow,

Saracen.”ShethrewSageousahardlook.Andshewasgone.IfeltJaneatmyside.The

lighthadlefther.Herskinheldthecolouroffineashwhenthefirehastakenallthereistogive.Shespokeinawhisper.“LookafterGogforme,andGorgoth.They’rethelastoftheleucrota.”ThethoughtofGorgoth

needingaguardianbroughtsharpwordstothetipofmytongue,butIswallowedthem.“Iwill.”MaybeIevenmeantit.

Shetookmyhand.“Youcanwinthevictoriesyouseek,Jorg.Butonlyifyoufindbetterreasonstowantthem.”Ifeltatingleofherpowerthroughmyfingers.“Looktothelostyears,Jorg.Looktothehanduponyourshoulder.Thestringsthatleadyou...”Hergripfellaway,and

smokecoiledwhereshehadbeen.

“Don’tcomehomeagain,PrinceJorg.”Sageousmadehisthreatsoundlikefatherlyadvice.“Ifyoustartrunningnow,”

Isaid,“Imightnotcatchyou.”“Corion?”Helookedinto

thecoilingetherbehindme.“Don’tsendthisboyagainstme.Itwouldgoill.”Ireachedformysword,

buthe’dgonebeforeIcleared

scabbard.Thesmokebecamebitter,catchingatmythroat,andIfoundmyselfcoughing.“He’scominground.”I

heardMakin’svoiceasiffromagreatdistance.“Givehimmorewater.”I

recognizedElban’slisp.Istruggledup,chokingand

spittingwater.“God’swhore!”Avastcloud,liketheanvil

ofathunderhead,stoodwhere

MountHonashadbeen.IblinkedandletMakin

haulmetomyfeet.“You’renottheonlyonetotakeahardknock.”HenoddedacrosstowhereGorgothcrouchedafewyardsoff,withhisbacktous.Istumbledover,stopping

whenInoticedtheheat—theheatandaglowthatmadeasilhouetteofGorgothdespitethedaylight,asifhewere

huddledoverafiercecampfire.Iedgedaroundandtotheside.Goglaycoiledlikeababeinthewomb,everyinchofhimwhitehot,asifthelightoftheBuilders’Sunwerebleedingthroughhim.EvenGorgothhadtoshuffleback.AsIwatched,theboy’s

skinshadeddownthroughcoloursseeninironintheforge,hotorange,thenthe

dullerreds.Itookasteptowardhimandheopenedhiseyes,whiteholesintothecentreofasun.Hegasped,theinsideofhismouthmolten,thencurledmoretightly.Attimesfiredancedacrosshisback,runningalonghisarms,thengutteringout.IttooktenminutesforGogtocoolsothathisoldcoloursreturnedandamancouldstandbesidehim.

Atlastheliftedhisheadandgrinned.“More!”“You’vehadenough,lad,”

Isaid.Ididn’tknowwhattheBuilders’Sunhadwokenasitechoedthroughhim,butfromwhatI’dseen,betteritwentbacktosleep.Ilookedbackatthecloud

stillrisingaboveMountHonasandthecountrysideburningformilesaround.“Ithinkit’stimetogo

home,lads.”

36

Fouryearsearlier

“Itcan’tbedone,”saidtheNuban.“Fewthingsworthhaving

canbegoteasily,”Isaid.“Itcan’tbedone,”hesaid.

“Notbyanyonewhoexpectstolivefiveminutespasttheact.”“Ifasuicidalassassinwere

allittook,thentheHundredwouldbetheDozenbynow.”Myownfatherhadsurvivedseveralattemptsinwhichthewould-bekillerhadnointerestinescape.“Noonewithaclaimtotheempirethroneisthateasytobringtoanend.”

TheNubanturnedinthesaddletofrownatme.He’dgivenupaskinghowachildknewsuchthings.Iwonderedhowlongbeforehegaveuptellingmeitcouldn’tbedone.Inudgedmyhorseon.The

towersoftheCount’scastlehadn’tseemedtogetanycloseroverthelasthalfhour.“Weneedtofindthe

Count’sstrongestdefence,”Isaid.“Theprotectionthathe

mostreliesupon.Theoneuponwhichhisfaithrests.”TheNubanfrownedagain.

“Seekoutyourenemy’sweakness,”hesaid.“Thentakeyourshot.”Hepattedtheheavycrossbowstrappedacrosshissaddlebags.“Butyou’vealreadytold

meitcan’tbedone,”Isaid.“Repeatedly.”Ipulledmycloaktightagainsttheeveningwind.ThemanIhad

takenitfromhadbeenatallone,andithunglooseaboutme.“Soyou’rejustplanningthemostsensiblewaytolose.”TheNubanshrugged.He

neverarguedforthesakeofbeingright.Ilikedthatinhim.“Theweakestspotina

gooddefenceisdesignedtofail.Itfalls,butinfallingitsummonsthenextdefence

andsoon.It’sallaboutlayers.Attheendofitallyou’llfindyourselffacingthethingyousoughttoavoidallalong,onlynowyou’reweaker,andit’sforewarned.”TheNubansaidnothing,

theblacknessofhisfaceimpenetrableinthedyinglight.“Surpriseisouronlyreal

weaponhere.Wesidestepthatprocessofescalation.We

cutstraighttotheheartofthematter.”Andtheheartiswhatwe

wanttocut.Werodeon,andatlength

thetowersgrewcloser,andtaller,andloomeduntilthecastlegatesyawnedbeforeus.Asprawlofbuildingspooledbeforethemlikevomit—tavernsandtanneries,hovelsandwhorehouses.“Renar’sshieldisaman

namedCorion.”TheNubantwitchedhisnoseatthestenchasthehorsesthreadedapathtothegates.“AmagicianfromtheHorseCoast,theysay.Certainlyagoodcouncillor.HehastheCountguardedbymercenariesfromhishomeland.Menwithnofamiliestothreaten,andanhonourcodethatkeepsthemtrue.”

“So,whatcouldgetusaninvitationtoseethisCorion,Iwonder?”Thequeueatthegates

movedinfitsandstarts,butneveraboveasnail’space.TenyardsaheadofusapeasantwithanoxintowarguedwithaguardintheCount’slivery.“Ishereallyamagician,do

youthink?”IwatchedtheNubanforhisanswer.

“TheHorseCoastistheplaceforthem.”Thepeasantseemedto

havewonhiscase,andmovedonwithhisox,intotheouteryardwherethemarketstallswouldstillbesetout.Bythetimewereachedthe

gatealightrainhadstartedtofall.Theguard’splumedroopedsomewhatinthedrizzle,buttherewasnothing

tiredaboutthelookhegaveus.“What’syourbusinessin

thecastle?”“Supplies.”TheNuban

pattedhissaddlebags.“Outthere.”Theguard

noddedtothesprawlbeforethegates.“You’llfindallyouwantoutthere.”TheNubanpursedhislips.

Thecastlemarketwouldhavethebestgoods,butthatline

wasn’tgoingtocarryusfar.We’dneedabetterreasonbeforetheCount’smanwasgoingtoletaroad-wornNubanmercenaryacrosshismaster’sthreshold.“Givemeyourbow,”Isaid

totheNuban.Hefrowned.“You’regoing

toshoothim?”Theguardlaughed,but

therewasn’tanounceofhumourintheNuban.Hewas

gettingtoknowme.Iheldoutmyhand.The

Nubanshruggedandhauledhiscrossbowupfromwhereithungbehindhissaddle.Theweightofitnearlytookmetotheground.IhadtograbthebowinbothhandsandclingtomymountwithmylegsbutImanagedthefeatwithouttoogreatalossofdignity.Iofferedittotheguard.“TakethistoCorion,”I

said.“Tellhimwe’reinterestedinselling.”Irritation,scorn,

amusement,Icouldseethemallfightingtoputthenextwordsonhistongue,butheraisedahandfortheweaponevenso.Ipulledthebowbackas

theguardreachedup.“Becareful,halftheweightisenchantments.”Thatliftedhisbrowaninch.Hetookit

gingerly,eyeingtheironfacesofNubangods.Somethinghesawthereseemedtosetasidehisobjections.“Watchthesetwo,”he

said,callinganothermanfromtheshadowsofthegatehouse.Andoffhewent,holdingtheNuban’scrossbowbeforehimasifitmightbitegivenhalfachance.

Thedrizzlethickenedintoasteadydownpour.Wesatonourhorses,lettingitallsoakin.Ithoughtaboutvengeance.

Abouthowitwouldn’tgivemebackwhathadbeentaken.AbouthowIdidn’tcare.Holdtoathinglongenough,asecret,adesire,maybealie,anditwillshapeyou.Theneedlayinme,itcouldnotbesetaside.ButtheCount’s

bloodmightwashitout.Thenightcame,theguards

litlanternsinthegatehouse,andinnichesalongthewalloftheentryway.Icouldseetheteethoftwoportculliseswaitingtodropifsomefoeshouldstormtheentrancewhilstthegatesstoodwide.IwonderedhowmanyofFather’ssoldierswouldhavediedhereifhehadsenthisarmiestoavengemymother.

Perhapsitwasbetterthisway.BetterthatIcomecalling.Morepersonal.Shewasmymotherafterall.Father’ssoldiershadtheirownmotherstobeworryingabout.Theraindrippedfrommy

nose,rancolddownmyneck,butIfeltwarmenough,Ihadafireinsideme.“He’llseeyou.”Theguard

hadreturned.Hehelda

lanternup.Hisplumelayplasteredtothebackofhishelmnow,andhelookedastiredhimself.“Jake,gettheirhorses.Nadar,youcanwalktheseboysinwithme.”AndsoweenteredCount

Renar’scastleonfoot,aswetasifwe’dswumamoattogetthere.Corionhadhischambersin

theWestTower,adjacenttothemainkeepwherethe

Countheldcourt.Wefollowedawindingstair,grittywithdirt.Thewholeplacehadanairofneglect.“Shouldwegiveupour

weapons?”Iasked.Icaughtthewhitesofthe

Nuban’seyesasheshotmeaglance.Ourguardjustlaughed.Themanbehindmetappedtheknifeatmyhip.“GoingtojabCorionwiththislittlepig-stickerareyou,

boy?”Ididn’thavetoanswer.

Ourguardpulledupbeforealargeoakdoor,studdedwithironbolts.Somebodyhadburnedacomplexsymbolintothewood,apictogramofsorts.Itmademyeyescrawl.Theguardrappedonthe

door,twoquickhits.“Waithere.”Hethrusthis

lanternintomyhands.Hegavemeabrieflook,pursed

hislips,thenpushedpasttheNubantoheadbackdownthestairs.“Nadar,withme.”Bothmenwereoutof

sight,behindthecurveofthestair,beforeweheardthesoundofalatchbeingraised.Thennothing.TheNubansethishandtothehiltofhissword.Iflickeditaway.ShakingmyheadIknockedagainonthedoor.“Come.”

IthoughtI’dfaceddownallmyfears,butherewasavoicethatcouldmeltmyresolvewithoneword.TheNubanfeltittoo.Icouldseeitineverylineofhim,poisedtoflee.“Come,PrinceofThorns,

comeoutofyourhiding,comeoutintothestorm.”Thedoorfellaway,eaten

bydarkness.Iheardscreaming,awfulscreaming,

thesortyougetfrompreywithabrokenbackasitcrawlstoescapethehunter’sclaws.Maybeitwasme,maybetheNuban.AndthenIsawhim.

37

TheCastleRedleftnoruinstogazeupon.Allwehadweretheruinsofthemountainonwhichithadstood.Webeatthemosthastyofretreatsandmadethanksthatthewindblewagainstus,notchasingustosharethe

smokeandtaintofGelleth.Thatnightwesleptcoldandnoneamongstushadanappetite,notevenBurlow.TheroadfromtheCastle

RedtotheTallCastleisalongone,longerinthecomingbackthaninthegoing.Foronething,onthewayoutwerode—onthewaybackwehadtowalk.Andmostofthosemilesbackpointeddown.Giventhe

choiceI’dratherclimbamountainthancomedownone.Thedown-slopeputsadifferentkindofhurtinginyourlegs,andthegradientpullsonyoueverystep,asifit’ssteeringyou,asifit’scallingtheshots.Goingupyou’refightingthemountain.“DamnbutImissthat

horse,”Isaid.“Afinepieceof

horseflesh.”Makinnodded

andspatfromdustylips.“HavetheKing’sstable-mastertrainyouanother.I’msurethere’snotapaddockinAncrathwithoutithasatleastoneofGerrod’sbastards.”“Hewasalustfulone,I’ll

giveyouthat.”Ihawkedandspat.Myarmourchafed,andthemetalheldtheheatofthelateafternoonsun,sweattricklingunderneath.“Itdoesn’tfeelright

though,”Makinsaid.“Themostconvincingvictoryinmemoryandallwehavetoshowforitisalackofhorses.”“I’vehadmorelootfroma

peasanthut!”Rikecalledoutfrombackdowntheline.“Christbleeding!Don’t

startLittleRikeyoff,”Isaid.“We’rerichinthecointhatcountsthemost,mybrothers.Wereturnladeninvictory.”

ThereindeedwasacurrencyIcouldspendatcourt.Everythingisforsaleattherightprice.Aking’sfavour,asuccession,evenafather’srespect.Andthat’sanotherthing

thatmadethosereturningmileslongerthanthegoingones.NotonlydidIhavetocarrymyself,myarmour,myrations,butIhadanewburden.It’shardtocarrya

weightofnewswithnonetotellanddaysaheadbeforeyoucanreleaseit.Goodnewsweighsjustasheavyasbad.Icouldimaginemyselfbackatcourt,boastingofmyvictory,rubbingnosesinit,acertainstepmother’snoseinparticular.Whatwouldnotpaintitselfonthecanvasofmyimaginationwasmyfather’sreaction.Itriedtoseehimshakehisheadin

disbelief.Itriedtoseehimsmileandstandandputhishandonmyshoulder.Itriedtohearhimthankme,praiseme,callmeson.ButmyeyeswentblindandthewordsIheardweretoofaintanddeepfordistinction.Thebrothershadlittleto

sayonthereturnjourney,feelingtheholesleftinourranks,hauntedbythespacewheretheNubanshouldbe.

Gogontheotherhandbubbledoverwithenergy,runningahead,chasingrabbits,askingquestionafterquestion.“Whyistheroofblue,

BrotherJorg?”heasked.Heseemedtothinktheoutsideworldwasjustabiggercave.Somephilosophersagreewithhim.Therewereotherchanges

too.TheredmarksonGog’s

hidehadshadedtoafiercerred,andthenightlycampfiresfascinatedhim.Hewouldstareintotheflames,entranced,edgingclosermomentbymoment.Gorgothdiscouragedtheinterest,flickingthechildintotheshadows,asiftheattractionworriedhim.Theroadsbecamemore

familiar,theinclinesgentle,thefieldsrich.Iwalkedthe

pathsofmychildhood,agoldentime,easydayswithoutcare,scoredbymymother’smusicandhersong,withnosournoteuntilmysixthyear.Myfatherhadtaughtmethefirstofthehardlessonsthen,lessonsinpainandlossandsacrifice.Gellethhadbeenthesumofthatteaching.Victorywithoutcompromise,withoutmercyorhesitation.Iwouldthank

KingOlidanforhisinstructionandtellhimhowhisenemieshadfaredatmyhands.Andhewouldapprove.IthoughtofKatherinetoo,

aswedrewnearer.Myidlemomentsfilledwithherimage,withthemomentsIhadspentcloseenoughtotouchher.Isawagainhowthelightcaughther,howitfoundthebonesofherface,

thesoftnessofherlips.Wecamefootsoreand

road-wearytotheheartlandsofAncrath,toodeepinourownthoughtseventostealthehorsesthatwouldeasethelastofourjourney.IhadbuttoclosemyeyesandIwouldseethenewsunriseoverGelleth,risethroughGelleth,andhearthescreamsofherghosts.WesawtheTallCastle’s

battlementsfromtheOstenRidge,withsevenmilesstillbeforeustothegates.Thesundescendedinthewest,crimson,racingustothecity.“We’llbeheroeth,Jorth?”

Elbanasked.Hesoundeduncertainasifallhisyearshadyettoteachhimthattheendjustifiesthemeans.“Heroes?”Ishrugged.“We

willbevictors.Andthat’swhatcounts.”

Wewalkedthelastmileindusk.TheguardsatthegatesoftheLowCityhadnoquestionsforme.Perhapstheyrecognizedtheirprince,orperhapstheyreadmylookandsomeinstinctforselfpreservationkickedin.Wewalkedthroughunopposed.“BrotherKent,whydon’t

youleadthewaytotheLowTownandfindtheladssomewheretodrink?The

FallingAngel,maybe.”SirMakinandIwouldgotocourt.TheremainderofmybrotherswouldfindnowelcomeintheTallCastle.WithMakinatmysideI

setofffortheHighCityandatlastwecametothecastleitself.IputfatigueasidewhenweenteredbytheTripleGate.WecrossedtheLecternCourtyardinthedeepestshadows,thrownbya

failingsun.Bythetimewepassedthe

tableknightsatFather’sdoorsIhadaspringinmystep.IlookedfirstforSageous,seekinghimattheKing’sside,thenamongsttheglitterofthecrowd.Ilettheheraldfinishourintroduction,andstillIsoughttheheathen.IfoundKatherinebesidetheQueen,onehandonhersister’sshoulder,hardeyes

forpoorJorg.Iletthesilencestretchamomentlonger.“Wherehaveyouhidden

yourpaintedsavage,Father-dear?Ididsowanttomeettheoldpoisonerofdreamsagain.”Islidmygazeacrossthe

seaoffacesonemoretime.“Sageous’sservicestothe

Crownhavetakenhimfromourborders.”Fatherheldhisfaceimpassive,butIsawthe

quickglanceexchangedbetweenhisqueenandhersister.“I’llbesuretolookforhis

return.”So,theheathenhadrunbeforeme...“I’mtoldthatyoulimped

backwithouttheForestWatch.”QueenSarethspokefromFather’sside,herhandsuponthegreatnessofherbelly.“Arewetoassumeyourlossesweretotal?”A

smileescapedthetightlineofhermouth.Anexceptionallyprettymouth,ithastobenoted.Isparedherasmallbow.A

bowformyhalf-brother,strugglingtoclawhiswayfromherwomb.“Lady,therewerelossesamongtheForestWatch,Icannotdenyit.”Fatherinclinedhishead,as

ifthecrownweighedheavyuponhim.Paleeyeswatched

mefromtheshadowofhisbrow.“Wewillhaveanaccountofthisrout.”“LordVincentdeGren..

.”Icountedhimoffonmyindexfinger.Anintakeofbreathhissed

throughthearistocracy.“EventheWatchMaster!”

QueenSarethstruggledtoherfeet.“HehasevenlosttheWatchMaster!Andthisboyseeksourthrone?”

“LordVincentdeGren,”Iresumedmycount.“IhadtopushhimovertheTemusFalls.Hevexedme.CoddinistheWatchMasternow,lowbornbutasoundfellow.”“JedWillox.”Icounteda

secondfinger.“Killedinaknifefightoveragameofcards,twodays’marchpasttheGellethborder.”“MattusofLee.”Icounted

athirdfinger.“Apparentlyhe

urinatedonabearbymistake.ItseemsthatthelegendarywoodcraftoftheForestWatchmaybesomewhatoverstated.And...that’sit.”Iheldthethreefingersat

arm’slengthabovemyheadandturnedleft,thenright,tosurveymyaudience.“Thelossesamongmy

ownpickedmenweresimilarlygrievous,butinourdefenceyoumustconsider

thattherazingofacastledefendedbyninehundredGellethianveteransisadangerousundertaking.Withtwohundredandfiftylightly-armedforestrangers,thereisalimittowhatcanbeachievedwithoutcasualties.”“Thecowardneverreached

CastleRed!”TheQueenpointedatme—asifanyonewouldmistakehertarget—andhervoicebecamea

shriek.Ismiledandheldmy

peace.Womenareapttoloseperspectivewhenfatwithchild.IsawKatherinetrytopressSarethbackintoherthrone.“Iorderedyoutoassault

theCastleRed.”Father’swordsheldnohintofanger,andcarriedallthemorethreatforit.“Indeed.”Iadvancedon

thethrone,leavingSirMakininmywake.“BringmeGelleth,yousaid.”Ayardseparatedus,no

more,beforethefirstpalaceguardthoughttoraisehiscrossbow.Fatherliftedafinger,andwepaused,meandtheguardsweatinginhishauberk.“BringmeGelleth,you

said.AndyouweregoodenoughtograntmetheForest

Watchtodoitwith.”Ireachedintotheroad-

sackatmyhip,ignoringthecrossbowsheldonme,andthefingersevertighterontheirtriggers.“HereisMerlGellethar,

LordofGelleth,masteroftheCastleRed.”Iopenedmyhandanddusttrickledthroughmyfingers.“Andhere,”Idrewoutachunkofrocknobiggerthanawalnut.

“HereisthelargeststonethatremainsoftheCastleRed.”Iletthestonefall,dropped

intosilence.NeitherdustnorstonewerewhatIpurported,ofcourse,butthetruthlaythereonthethrone-roomfloor.MerlGelletharwasdustonthewind,andhiscastlerubble.“Wekilledthemall.Every

maninthatfortressisdead.”IlookedtotheQueen.“Every

woman.Lady,scullion,drudge,andwhore.”Myeyesfelltoherbelly.“Everychild,everybabeincradle.”Iraisedmyvoice.“Everyhorseanddog,everyhawkandeverydove.Eachrat,anddowntothelastflea.Nothinglivesthere.Victorydoesnotcomeinhalfmeasures.”Fatherlurchedtohisfeet.InonepaceIstoodalmost

nosetonosewithhim.I

couldn’treadwhathiseyesheld,buttheoldfearhadleftme,asifittoohadtrickledfrommyhands.“Givememybirthright.”I

keptallcolourfromthewords,thoughmyjawachedfromthestrainofit.“Letmeleadourarmies,andIwilltaketheEmpire,andmakeitwholeoncemore.Setasidetheheathen.Andhisplans.”Iglancedtowardthenew

queenatthat.Ishouldhavekeptmyeyes

onhim,shouldhaverememberedwhereIgotmymeanstreak.Ifeltasharppainundermy

heart.Itmademebiteoffmysentence,nearlymytonguetoo.Itastedblood,hotandcopper.Onestepback,two,staggeringnow.Isawtheblade,exposedinFather’shandwhenIslippedfromit.

IsthisadaggerIseebeforeme?Thequotationbubbledup,andlaughtertoo,breakingoutofme,crimsonwithspittle.Iwantedtospeak,butforoncewordsescapedme,leakingawaywithmylife’sblood.Thethrone-roomswam

beforeme,itsarchitecturenolongercertaininthefaceofsuchbetrayal.Everyeyewatchedmyretreattoward

thegreatdoors.Theirstareslancedme,lordsandladies,Princess,Queen,andKing.ThelegsthathadbornemeleagueuponleaguefromGellethnowturnedtraitor,asifeachmilefromtheruinoftheCastleRedsettleduponmyshouldersandleftmedrunkwithweariness.Hestabbedme!TherewasatimewhenI

lovedmyfather.Atime

remembered,indreams,orinrarewakingmoments,liketheshadowofahighcloudcrossingmymind.There’salaughingfacefromayearInolongerown,fromaseasonwhenIwastooyoungtoseethedistancebetweenus.Thefaceisbearded,fierce,butwithoutthreat.IsthisadaggerIsee

beforeme?Mymouthwouldn’tframethejoke.The

laughburstfromme,andIfell,asiftheknifehadcutmystrings.ForaneternityIlaybefore

them,mycheektothecoldmarble.IheardMakinroar.Iheardtheclatterashewentdownbeneathtoomanyguards.Theslowthudofaheartbeatfilledme.WhenIfellIsawthe

blacknessofmyfather’shair,darkerthannight,withthe

faintestsheenofemeraldlikeamagpie’swing.“Takethisaway.”He

soundedweary.Theslightesthintofhumanweaknessatthelast.“Willheliebyhis

mother’stomb?”Anewvoice.Thewordsdrewouttofillanage,butsomewhereinmetheyechoedandIsawtheirowner,OldLordNossarwhoboreusonhisshoulders,

WillandI,alifetimeago.OldNossar,cometocarrymeonelasttime.Iheardtheanswer,toofaintanddeepfordistinction.Myeyeswentblind.Ifeltthefloorscrapeagainstmycheek,andthennomore.

38

Iswalloweddarkness,anddarknessswallowedme.Withoutlight,withoutthe

beatofahearttocountthetime,youlearnthateternityisnothingtofear.Infact,ifthey’djustleaveyoutoit,aneternityaloneinthedarkcan

beawelcomealternativetothebusinessofliving.Thentheangelcame.Thefirstglimmersfeltlike

paper-cutsonmyeyes.Theilluminationbuiltfromadistantpinpoint,splintersoflightlodginginthebackofmymind.Adawncame,andinaninstant,oranage,darknessfled,leavingnohintofshadowtorecorditspassage.

“Jorg.”Hervoiceflowedthrough

theoctaves,anechoofeverykindwordandeverypromisefulfilled.“Hello.”Myvoicesounded

likeacrackedreed.Hello?Butwhatdoyousaytoheavenwhenyoumeether?Twosyllables,weaknessanddoubtunderwritingboth.Sheopenedherarms.

“Cometome.”

Icrouched,nakedonafloortoowhiteforanyshadowtodare.Icouldseethedirtonmylimbs,likeveins,andblood,bloodfromthewoundthatkilledme,driedandblackassin.“Come.”Itriedtolookather.No

pointinherheldconstant.Asifdefinitionwereathingformortals,areductionthatheressencewouldnotallow.She

worepale,inshades.Shehadtheeyesofeveryonewhoevercared.Andwings—shehadthosetoo,butnotinwhiteandfeathers,ratherinthesuretyofflight.Thepotentialofskywrappedher.Sometimesherskinseemedtobeclouds,movingoneacrosstheother.Ilookedaway.Icrouchedthere,aknotof

fleshandbone,withonlydirt

andoldbloodtodefinemebeneaththescrutinyofherbrilliance.“Cometome.”Armsopen.

Amother’sarms,alover’s,father’s,friend’s.Ilookedaway,butshe

drewmestill.Ifeltherbreathing.Ifeltthepromiseofredemption.Ihadbuttoliftmyeyesandshewouldforgiveme.“No.”

Hersurpriseflutteredbetweenus,apalpitationofthelight.Ifelttensioninthemusclesofmyjaw,andthebittertasteofanger,hotatthebackofmythroat.Hereatlastwerethingsfamiliartome.“Putasideyourpain,Jorg.

LetthebloodoftheLambwashyoursinsaway.”Nothingfalseinher.Shestoodtransparentinher

concern.Theangelheldhergiftsinopenhands,compassion,love...pity.Onegifttoomany.Theold

smiletwistedonmylips.Istood,niceandslow,headbowedstill.“TheLambdoesn’thaveenoughbloodformysins.Mayaswellhangasheepformeasalamb.”“Nosinistoogreatto

repent,”shesaid.“There’snoevilthatcannotbeputaside.”

Shemeantittoo.Noliecouldpassthoselips.Thattruth,atleast,wasself-evident.Imethereyesthen,andthe

washofherlove,sodeepandsowithoutcondition,nearlycarriedmeaway.Idugdeepandfoughther.Imanufacturedmysmileonceagain,cursingmyselfforaslackjawedfool.“Ileftfewsinsuntasted.”I

tookasteptowardher.“Icursed...inchurch.Icovetedmyneighbour’sox.Istoleittoo,roasteditwhole,andfinisheditoffwithgluttony,adeadlysin,thefirstoftheSeven,learnedatmymother’sbreast.”Thehurtinhereyeshurt

me,butI’dlivedalifestrikingblowsthatcuttwoways.Imovedaroundtheangel,

andmyfeetstainedthefloor,leavingbruisesthatfadedinmywake.“Icovetedmyneighbour’s

wife.AndIhadher.Murdertoo.Ohyes,murderandmoremurder.Sofewsinsuntasted...IfI’dnotdiedsoyoung,I’msureI’dhavemetyouwithafulllist.”Angerclosedmyjaw.Anytighterandmyteethwouldhaveexploded.“IfI’dlivedbutfiveminutes

longer,youcouldhaveputpatricideattheheadofthetally.”“Itcanbeforgiven.”“Idon’trequireyour

forgiveness.”Veinsofdarknessreachedacrossthefloor,growingoutwardfromwhereIstood.“Letitgo,Child.”A

warmthandahumourranthroughherwords,sostrongitnearlycarriedmewithit.

Hereyesstoodaswindowstoaworldofthingsmadewhole.Aplacebuiltoftomorrows.Itcouldallbemaderight.Icouldtasteit,smellit.Ifsheweren’tsosureofhersuccess,she’dhavehadme,thereandthen.Iheldtomyanger,drank

frommywellofpoison.Thesethingsarenotgoodthings,butatleastthey’remine.

“Icouldgowithyou,Lady.Icouldtakewhatyouoffer.ButwhowouldIbethen?WhowouldIbeifIletgothewrongsthathaveshapedme?”“Youwouldbehappy,”she

said.“Someoneelsewouldbe

happy.AnewJorg,aJorgwithoutpride.Iwon’tbeanyone’spuppy.Notyours,notevenHis.”

Thenightcreptbacklikemistrisingfromthemire.“Prideisasintoo,Jorg.

DeadliestoftheSeven.Youhavetoletitgo.”Atlast,ahintofchallengeinherwords.AllIneededtogivemestrength.“Haveto?”Darkness

swirledaroundus.Sheheldoutherhands.

Thedarkgrewandherlightquailed.

“Pride?”Isaid,mysmiledancingnow.“Iampride!Letthemeekhavetheirinheritance—I’dratherhaveeternityinshadowsthandivineblissatthepriceyouask.”Itwasn’ttrue,buttospeakotherwise,totakeherhandratherthantobiteit,wouldleavenothingofme,nothingbutpieces.Glimmersheldhernow,

glimmersagainstthevelvet

blackness.“Luciferspokethus.Pridetookhimfromheaven,thoughhesatatGod’srighthand.”Hervoicegrewfaint,thehintofawhisper.“Intheendprideistheonlyevil,therootofallsins.”“PrideisallIhave.”Iswallowedthenight,and

thenightswallowedme.

39

“He’snotdeadyet?”Awoman’svoice,Teutonaccentwithacreakofageinit.“No.”Ayoungerwoman,

familiar,alsoTeuton.“It’snotnaturaltolingerso

long,”theolderwomansaid.

“Andsowhite.Helooksdeadtome.”“Therewasalotofblood.I

didn’tknowmenhadsomuchbloodinthem.”Katherine!Herfacecame

tomeinmydarkness.Greeneyes,andthesculptedanglesofhercheekbones.“Whiteandcold,”shesaid,

herfingersonmywrist.“Butthere’smistonthemirrorwhenIholdittohislips.”

“Putapillowoverhisfaceandbedonewithit,Isay.”Iimaginedmyhandsaroundthecrone’sneck.Thatbroughtahintofwarmth.“Ididwanttoseehimdie,”

Katherinesaid.“AfterwhathedidtoGalen.Iwouldhavewatchedhimdieonthestepsofthethrone,withallthatbloodrunningdown,onestepafterthenext,andbeenglad.”“TheKingshouldhaveslit

histhroat.Finishedthejobthereandthen.”Theoldwomanagain.Shehadaservant’stoneabouther.Voicingheropinioninthesecurityofaprivateplace,opinionsheldbacktoolongandgrownbitterinthesilence.“It’sacruelmanwhowill

takeaknifetohisonlyson,Hanna.”“Nothisonlyson.Sareth

carriesyournephew.Thechildwillbeborntohisdueinheritancenow.”“Willtheykeephimhere,

doyouthink?”Katherinesaid.“Willtheylayhiminhismother’scasket,besidehisbrother?”“Laythewhelpswiththe

bitchandsealtheroom,Isay.”“Hanna!”IheardKatherine

moveawayfromme.

They’dtakenmetomymother’stomb,asmallchamberinthevaults.ThelasttimeI’dvisitedthedusthadlainthick,unmarkedbyfootprints.“Shewasaqueen,Hanna,”

Katherinesaid.Iheardherbrushatsomething.“Youcanseethestrengthinher.”Mother’slikenesshadbeen

carvedintohercoffer’smarblelid,asifshelaythere

atrest,herhandstogetherindevotion.“Sarethisprettier,”Hanna

said.Katherinereturnedtomy

side.“Strengthmakesaqueen.”Ifeltherfingersonmyforehead.Fouryearsago.Fouryears

agoI’dtouchedthatmarblecheek,andvowednevertoreturn.Thatwasmylasttear.IwonderedifKatherinehad

touchedherface,wonderedifshe’dstrokedthesamestone.“Letmeendthis,my

princess.Itwouldbeakindnesstotheboy.They’lllayhimwithhismotherandthelittleprince.”Hannahoneyedhervoice.Shesetherhandtomythroat,fingerscoarselikesharkskin.“No.”“Yousaidyourselfthatyou

wantedtoseehimdie,”

Hannasaid.Shehadstrengthinthatoldhand.She’dthrottledachickenorthreeinhertime,hadHanna.Maybeababyonceortwice.Thepressurebuilt,slowbutsure.“OnthestepsIdid,while

hisbloodwashot,”Katherinesaid.“ButI’vewatchedhimclingtolifeforsolong,withsuchaslighthold,it’sbecomeahabit.Lethimfallwhenhe’sready.It’snota

woundthatcanbesurvived.Lethimchoosehisowntime.”Thepressurebuiltalittle

more.“Hanna!”Thehandwithdrew.

40

Wewrapupourviolentandmysteriousworldinapretenceofunderstanding.Wepaperoverthevoidsinourcomprehensionwithscienceorreligion,andmakebelievethatorderhasbeenimposed.And,forthemostof

it,thefictionworks.Weskimacrosssurfaces,heedlessofthedepthsbelow.Dragonfliesflittingoveralake,milesdeep,pursuingerraticpathstopointlessends.Untilthatmomentwhensomethingfromthecoldunknownreachesuptotakeus.Thebiggestlieswesave

forourselves.Weplayagameinwhichwearegods,inwhichwemakechoices,

andthecurrentfollowsinourwake.Wepretendaseparationfromthewild.Pretendthataman’scontrolrunsdeep,thatcivilizationismorethanaveneer,thatreasonwillbeourcompanionindarkplaces.Ilearnedtheselessonsin

mytenthyear,althoughlittleofthemstayedwithme.IttookCoriononlymomentstoteachme,theheartbeatsin

whichmywillgutteredlikeacandleflameinthewind,andthenblewoututterlyIlaywiththeNuban,

bonelessonthestairs.Onlymyeyeswouldmove,andtheyfollowedtheoldman.Hecouldhavelookedkindlyinadifferentlight.HehadsomethingofTutorLundistabouthim,thoughmoregaunt,morehungry.Thehorrorwasn’tinhisface,or

evenhiseyes,justintheknowingthattheseweremereskins,stretchedtautacrossalltheemptinessintheworld.Thesightofhim,anold

maninadirtyrobe,putthekindoffearintomethatshameerasesfromourmemories.Thefeartherabbithaswhentheeaglestrikes.Thekindoffrightthatmakesanothingofyou.Thekindoffearthat’dmakeyousacrifice

mother,brother,everythingandanythingyou’veeverloved,justforthechancetorun.Corionshuffledcloser,and

stoopedtotakemywrist.Inoneinstantthetouchsilencedtherawterrorthathadsounmannedme.Ascompletelyasifhe’dturnedthespigotonawine-barrel,theflowstopped.Withoutawordhehauledmeintohisroom.I

felttheflagstonesscrapemycheek.Thechamberheldnothing,

savefortheNuban’scrossbow,proppedagainstthefarwall.IimaginedCorionclosetedhereinhisemptychamber,aplacetoleavehisoldfleshwhilsthestaredintoeternity.“So,Sageous’shunter

finallytrackeddownsomethingwithmorebite

thanhim,eh?”Itriedtospeak,butmylips

didn’tasmuchastwitch.Heknewaboutthedream-witchandhishunter.He’dcalledmetheThornPrince.Whatelsedidheknow?“Iknowitall,child.The

thingsyouknow,thesecretsyouhold.Eventhesecretsyou’veforgotten.”Hecouldreadmymind!“Likeanopenscroll.”

Corionnodded.Heturnedmyheadwithhisboot,sothatIcouldseetheNuban’sbowoncemore.“Youintrigueme,

HonorousJorgAncrath,”hesaid.Hemovedtostandbesidethebow.“You’rewonderingwhyamanwithsuchpowerisn’temperoroverallthelands.”Iwastoo.“Ithastobeoneofthe

Hundred.Nationswon’tfollowmonsterslikeme.They’llfollowalineage,divineright,thespawnofkings.Sowewhohavetakenourpowerfromtheplaceswhereothersfeartoreach...weplaythegameofthroneswithpieceslikeCountRenar,pieceslikeyourfather.Pieceslikeyou,perhaps.”Hereachedouttotouchthe

bow.Theairaroundit

shimmeredasifthemouthofafurnacehadopened.“Yes.Iratherlikethatidea.

LetSageoushaveKingOlidan,lethimworktobendyourfathertohiswill,andIwillhavethefirstbornson.”Thefearhadsunklow

enoughtoletmyangerrise.Ipicturedtheoldmandyingonablade,myhandonthehilt.“Letthewildstemperyou,

andifyouweatherit,intime

theprodigalwillreturn,avipertohisfather’sbosom.Pawntakesking.”Hemimedthechess-boardgesture.“Youmightbecomesomething,BriarPrince.Apiecetowinthegame.”Coriontookthebowasifit

weighednothing.Raisingittohislips,hewhisperedaword,toosoftforhearing.Fivepacestookhimtothedoorandhesetthebowonthe

stepsbytheNuban’shead.“Ablackknighttoguardmypawn.”“Andyou,boy.Youwill

forgettheCountofRenar.”LikehellIwill.“Turnyourvengeance

anywhereyouchoose,shareitwiththeworld,spillsomeblood;butneverreturntotheselands.Setnofootuponthesepaths.Yourmindwillnotwanderhere.”

Icouldonlywatchhim.Hecamecloser.Hekneltbesideme,tookmycollar,anddrewmyfacetohis.Imethisblankeyes.Icouldfeelthehorrorrising,afloodthatwouldcarrymeaway.Andworse,Ifelthisfingerscoldinsidemyskull,erasingmemories,turningasidepurpose.“ForgetRenar.Takeyour

vengeancetotheworld.”

Renarwilldie.“By...my...hand...”Somehowmylipsspokethewords.Butalreadyhe’dtakenthe

convictionfromme.IcouldnolongersayhowI’dreachedthetower,orevennamehim.Theoldmansmiled.He

benttowhisperinmyear.Irememberhisbreathonmyneck,andthesmellofrot.ThenIheardhiswordsand

allreasonleftme.Wormswrithedbehindmy

eyes.Nothingremainedofhiminmythoughts,justaholewhereIcouldn’tlook.Renarbecameanamewithoutweight,andmyhatredagiftforanyoneandeveryone.Ifell,throughdarkness,deafenedbymyownhowling.Unknownhands

lockedaroundmythroat,andinthedarknessmyownhandsfoundanecktothrottle.Thegriptightened,andtightenedagain.Thescreamsdiedtoahiss,arattle,andthensilence.Isqueezed.Myhandsbecameironhooks.IfIcouldhavesqueezedharder,myfinger-boneswouldhavesnappedlikedrytwigs.Ifellthroughdarkness,

throughsilence,onlythe

handsonmythroat,andthethroatinmyhands,andthehungerforair,myheartbeatingsledgehammerblows.Ifellthroughyears.I’ve

beenfallingthroughmylife...Ihittheground.Hard.My

eyesopened.Ilayonastonefloor.Apurplefacestaredatme,eyesdistended,tongueprotruding.Daylightstreamedinfromahighwindow.My

hearthammeredatmybreastbone,wantingout.Everythinghurt.Isawhandsontheneckbelowthatface.Myhands.WithgreateffortIunlockedthem.Thewhitefingershadlittleinclinationtoobey.Stillthepainswelledin

me.Ineededsomething,butcouldn’tnameit.Myvisionpulsedred,dimmingfromonemomenttothenext.I

touchedastiff-fingeredhandtomyneckandfoundhandsthere.Ididn’trecognizetheface.

Awoman?Theworldgrewdistant,the

painless.Renar...Thenamerose

throughme,andwithitawhisperofstrength.Thehandsthatprisedthestrangler’sfingersfrommyneckdidn’tfeellikemine.

Renar!Myfirstbreathwhistledintome,asifsuckedthroughareed.Air!Ineededair.Ichoked,heavedbut

nothingcame,hauledinbreathsthroughathroatgrowntoonarrowforthetask.Renar.Thepurplefacebelonged

toawomanwithgreyhair.Ididn’tunderstand.

Renar.AndCorion.OhJesu!Iremembered.I

rememberedthehorror,butitburnedpaleagainstthecoldfurythatatemenow.“Corion.”Forthefirsttime

inthefouryearssincethatnightinthetower,Ispokehisname.Iremembered.Irecalledwhathadbeentaken,andforthefirsttimeinforever,Ifeltwhole.Ifoundthestrengthtolift

myselfuponmyarms.Iwasinachamberina

castle.Besideabed...I’dfallenoutofbed.Whilstanoldwomantriedtothrottleme.Thedoorshook.Somebody

rattledatthelatch.“Hanna!Hanna!”Awoman’svoice.SomehowIstoodbefore

thedooropened.“Katherine.”Myvoice

escapedabruisedthroatasa

squeak.Thereshewas.Beautifulin

disarray.Mouthhalfopen,greeneyeswide.“Katherine.”Icouldonly

gethernameoutasawhisper,butIwantedtoshout,Iwantedtoscreamsomanythingsatonce.Iunderstood.Iunderstood

thegame.Iunderstoodtheplayers.Iknewwhathadtobedone.

“Murderer!”shesaid.Shetookaknifefromhersash,asharpbodkinlongenoughtorunamanthrough.“Yourfatherknewbest.”Itriedtotellher,butno

wordswouldcomenow.Itriedtoraisemyarms,butIhadnostrength.“I’llfinishwhathe

started,”shesaid.AndallIcoulddowas

marvelatthebeautyofher.

41

Inaduel,mantoman,swordagainstsword,itcanbealackofskillthatgetsyoukilled.Oftenasnot,though,it’llbeamatterofluck,orifitgoesontoolong,thenit’llbethemanwhotiresfirstthattendstodie.

Intheendit’saboutstayingpower.Theyshouldputthatonheadstones,“Gottired.”Maybenottiredoflife,butatleasttootiredtoholdontoit.Inarealfight,andmost

fightsarereal,nottheartificeofaformalduel,it’sfatiguethat’sthebigkiller.Aswordisaheavychunkofiron.Youswingthataroundforafewminutesandyourarmsstart

togetideasoftheirownaboutwhattheycanandcan’tdo.Evenwhenyourlifedependsonit.I’veknowntimeswhento

liftmyswordwastheequalofanylabourofHercules,butneverbeforeIfacedKatherine’sknifehadIfeltsodrained.“Bastard!”Thefireinhereyeslooked

fierceenoughtoburnuntil

thedeedwasdone.Ilookedforthewilltostop

her,andcameupempty.Aknifeisascarything

rightenough,heldtoyourthroat,sharpandcool.Thethoughtechoedbacktomefromthatnightwhenthedeadcameupoutoftheirbog-poolsaroundtheLichway.Theglitteralongthatknife

edgeasshecameatme,thethoughtofitslicingmyflesh,

piercinganeyemaybe,theseareallthesortofthingthatmightgiveamanpause.Untilyourealizewhattheyare.They’rejustwaystolosethegame.Youlosethegame,andwhathaveyoulost?You’velostthegame.Corionhadtoldmeaboutthegame.Howmanyofmythoughtswerehis?Howmuchofmyphilosophywasfilthfromthatoldman’sfingers?

I’dswuminthedarknesstoolong.Thegamedidn’tseemsoimportantanymore.Withtheembersofmy

strengthIraisedbotharms.Istretchedthemwide,toreceivetheblow.AndIsmiled.Somethingreachedoutand

heldherarm.Isawitinherface,twistingthereonthatperfectbrow,wrestlingwiththerage.

“Fatherdidn’tquitereachtheheart,itseems.”Imanagedahoarsewhisper.“Perhaps,Aunt,youhaveabetterhand?”Theknifeshook.I

wonderedifshe’dcutlivemeatbefore.“You...youkilledher.”Thefingersofmyright

handclosedaroundsomething,aheavysmoothsomething,ontheshelf

besidemybed.Hereyesdroppedtotheold

woman’sface.Ihither.Nothard,Ididn’t

havethestrength,buthardenoughtobreakthevaseI’dfound.Shecollapsedwithoutamurmur.Shelayinthesapphire

poolofherdress,sprawledacrosstheflagstones.Lifeflowedinmyarmsoncemore.Itseemedasifmy

strengthbegantoreturnthemomentshefell.Asifaspellwerebroken.Killherandyou’llbefree

forever.Afamiliarvoice,drylikepaper.Mine,orhis?Herhairhidherface,

auburnonsapphire.She’syourweakness.Cut

theheartfromher.Iknewittobetrue.Chokeher.Isawmyhands,paleona

neckshadingintocrimson.Haveher.Thevoiceofthe

briar.Thehooksslippedbeneathmyskin,anddrewmedowntokneelbesideher.Haveher.Takewhatmightneverbegiven.Iknewthecreed.Killher,andyou’llbefree.Iheardtheechoofa

distantstorm.Katherine’shairranlike

silkbetweenmyfingers.

“She’smyweakness.”Myvoicenow,mylips.Onelittlestep,onemoredeath,andnothingwouldevertouchmeagain.Onelittlestepandthedooronthatwildnightwouldcloseforever.Thegamewouldtrulybeagame.AndIwouldbetheplayertowinit.Chokeher.Haveher.The

voiceofthebriar.Acrackleinthemind.Ahollowsound.Anemptiness.

Empty.Herneckfeltwarm.Her

pulsebeatundermyfingertips.“Killher,BriarPrince.”Isawthewordsonthin

lips,spokeninanemptychamber.“Killher.”Isawthelipsmoveagain.I

sawtheblankeyes,fixedoneternity.“Killher.”“Corion!”

ForamomentmyhandstightenedaroundKatherine’sneck.“I’mcomingforyou,you

oldbastard.”Ireleasedmygrip.Asmiletwistedthosethin

lips,afiercetwist.Isawitasthevisionfaded,thoseblankeyes,andthattwistofasmile.Mysmile.Hehadplayedme.I’d

wanderedforyearswithno

recollectionofhim,thinkingitmyownideatoturnfromRenar,thinkingthechoiceasymbolofmystrengthandpurpose,toputasideemptyvengeanceinfavourofthetruepathtopower.Andnow,ontheedgeofdeath,Ihadrecoveredwhatwastaken.Recoveredorbeengiven.IglancedatKatherine.Irecalledanangelinadarkplace.Thememoryleftme

withashiver.ItookKatherine’sdagger

fromthefloor,andstood.Ileftherwhereshelay,besidethecroneI’dthrottled.Thedooropenedontoacorridor,oneIrecognized.TheWestCorner,IknewwhereIwas.Iraisedtheknifetomylipsandkissedtheblade.CountRenar,andthepuppetmasterwhopulledsomanystrings,onesharpedgewouldbe

enoughforthemall.

BrotherRoddatstabbedthreemeninthebackforeachonehefaced.RoddattaughtmeallIknowaboutrunningandabouthiding.Cowardsshouldbetreatedwithrespect.Cowardsbestknow

howtohurt.Corneroneatyourperil.

42

“Getoutofmyway.”“Whothehell—”“PleaseJesu!You’rethe

sameoldwart-bagthattriedtostopmelasttime!”Andhewas.Thestinkthatjumpedmewhenheopenedthedoorbroughtitallback.“I’m

surprisedmyfatherletyoulive.”“Who—”“WhothehellamI?You

don’trecognizeme?Youdidn’tlasttimeeither.Iwasshorterthen,yayhigh.”Iheldoutahandtoshowhim.“Itseemslikeawhileagotome,butyou’reanoldman,andwhat’rethreeorfouryearstotheold?”Isketchedabow.“PrinceJorgatyourservice,

orratheryouatmine.LasttimeIwalkedoutofherewithabandofoutlaws.ThistimeIjustneedoneknight,ifyouplease.SirMakinofTrent.”“Ishouldcalltheguardson

you,”hesaid,withoutconviction.“Why?TheKinghas

issuednoordersaboutme.”Thatwasaguess,butFatherthoughthe’dstruckamortal

blow,soIwasprobablycorrect.“Besides,it’donlygetyoukilled.Andifyou’rethinkingofthatbigfellowwiththepike,Irammedhisheadintothewallnotthreeminutesago.”Thejailersteppedbackand

letmepass,justashehadthetimeLundistescortedmewhenIwasaboy.Onthisoccasion,IhithimasIwentby.Onceinthestomach,and

asecondblowtothebackoftheneckashedoubledup.ForamomentIconsideredfinishingthejobwithKatherine’sknife,butit’sgoodinsurancetoletineffectivejailerslive.Itookhiskeysandmoved

ondownthecorridor,knifeattheready.I’dratherhavehadmysword.Ifelthalf-dressedwithoutit.Mymindkeptreturningtothefactofits

absence,totheweightlesssensationaroundmyhip,likeatonguereturningtoanemptysocketinconstantoverestimationoftheloss.Makinputthatswordin

myhandonthedayhefoundme.Ascaptainoftheguardinsearchoftheheir,hehadtherighttobearit.I’dkeptitcloseeversince,thefamilyblade,Builder-steel.Ifoundmywaytothe

torturechamberwhereI’dfirstmettheNuban.Thetableatthecentrelayempty.Therewerenofacesatthecelldoorwindows.Imadeaslowcircuit,directingthebeamofmylanternintoeachcellinturn.Thefirstheldacorpse,orsomeonesoneardeathastobemerebonesinabagofskin.Thenextthreewerebare.ThefifthheldSirMakin.Hesatbackagainst

thefarwall,beardedandsmearedwithfilth,ahandliftingtoshieldhiseyesfromthelight.Hemadenomovetorise.Ifeltahurtinthebackofmythroat.Idon’tknowwhy,butIdid.Angerinmystomach,andanacidpaininmythroat.“Makin,ohmybrother.”

Soft.“Wha—?”Acroak,the

soundofsomethingbroken.

“I’mtotheroadagain,BrotherMakin.Ihavebusinesstothesouth.”Isetthekeyinthelock.A

slighttremble,alittlerattle.“Jorg?”Awetsob,half

gurgle.“Hekilledyou,Prince.Yourownfather.”“I’lldiewhenI’mready.”Thekeyturned,thedoor

openedwithoutresistance.Thestinkgrewworse.“Jorg?”Makinlethishand

fall.They’dmadeamessofhisface.“No!You’redead.Isawyoufall.”“Allright,I’mdeadand

you’redreaming.Nowgetonyourfeckin’feetbeforeIkickoutwhatevershittheyleftyou.Andthatain’ttoomuchbythesmellofit.”Thatgottohim.Hetriedto

rise,onehandscrapingacrossthewall.Ihadn’tthoughtwhatkind

ofstatehemightbein.TomeitseemedI’dtakenFather’sknifeonlyyesterday.Makin’sbeardsaidweeksattheleast.Hegothalfwaytohisfeet,

andhislegfailed.Itooktwostepstoward

him.TheCount’scastlestood

welloverahundredhardmilesaheadofme,throughthegardenlandsofAncrathandintotheRenarhighlands.

He’dnevermakeit.Makinslidtothefloorwith

agroan.“You’redeadanyway.”Theonegoodeyeshonebrightwithtears.Playthegame.Sacrifice

knight,takecastle.Thatolddryvoiceagain.I’dlistenedtoitsolongIcouldn’ttellifitweremineorCorion’s.Eitherway,Ishouldleavehim.“You’vegotonechance

here,Makin.That’stwomorethanmostbastardsgetinlife.”Thelanternbeamswungfromwalltowall.“Deadornot,I’llleaveyouifyoucan’tstandandfollowme.Ileftamanheretodiebefore.AmanIshouldhaveloved.I’llleaveyouinaheartbeat.”Hekickedout,fiercewith

fearorsomethingelse,buthisarmbuckledandhisfootjust

skitteredacrossthemuck.Iturnedandwalkedaway.

TwoyardspastthedoorIstopped.“Lundistdiedhere.”Iwas

speakingtooloudforsafety,wastingbreathonfoolishness.“Onthisspot.”Istampedonit.“Ilefthimtobleed.”Nothingfromthedarkness

ofthecell.I’dbeensoftwith

Katherine,butatnorealcost.Thiswasdifferent.They’dbrokenMakin,hecoulddonothingbutslowmeatatimewhenImostneededspeed.Istartedfortheexit.“No...”Don’tlethimbeg.“No...hedidn’tdie

there.”Makin’svoicecamealittlestrongernow.“What?”“Hegotabadknock.”

Soundsofmovementinthedark.“Aknock’sall.Nothing

butabruisetoshowforitthenextday.”“Lundistisalive?”“Yourfatherhadhim

executed,Jorg.”Makincameintothelight,clutchingthedoorframe.“Forfailingtoprotectyou,hesaid.”Hespatablackmessontothefloor.“Morelikelyhejustdidn’t

haveanyuseforatutoroncehissonhadrunoff.That’sbeentheKing’swayalltheseyears.Whenathing’snouseanymore—throwitaway.”Makinmanagedagrin.

“Damnbutit’sgoodtoseeyou,lad.”Iwatchedhimfora

moment.Isawhissmiledie,andanuncertaintyreplaceit,mirroringmyown.Ishouldleavehim.In

truth,Ishouldkillhim.Nolooseends.Ididn’tlookatmyknife.

Younevertakeyoureyesoffyourmark,notwhenit’samanlikeMakin,noteveninhiscurrentstate.ButIknewtheknifewasthere.Inmymind’seyeIcouldseethegleamwhereitcutthelantern’slightfromtheair.Makindidn’tlookatiteither.Heknewbetterthantooffer

weaknesstotheviper.Nothingdecidesaman’smindbetterthanopportunity.Fatherwouldleavehim.

Dead.Thecreatureintowhich

Corionhadchosentoforgeme,thattool,thatpieceinagameofthrones,he’dneverevenhavecomecloseenoughtosavourthedungeonstink.ButwhataboutJorg?“I’mmyfather’sson,

Makin.”“Iknow.”Hedidn’tplead.

Iadmiredthatinhim.Ichosemypieceswell.Theknifefeltlikehotiron

inmyfist.IhatedmyselfforwhatIwasgoingtodo,andjustasmuchforhesitating.Ihatedmyselffortheweaknessinme.ForamomentIsawthe

Nuban,justthewhitelineofhisteeth,andthedarknessof

hiseyes,watchingmeashe’dwatchedsincethedaywemet.Makintookthatmoment.

Aswiftkicksnatchedmylegsfromunderme.Hefolloweddownwithwhatweightremainedtohim,andsandwichedmyheadbetweentheflagstonesandhisfist.Weneitherofuswereingreatshape.Onepunchwasallittooktosendmebackto

whereveritwasI’descapedfrominKatherine’sroom.

Shakespearehaditthatclothesmakeththeman.TherightclothescouldtakeBrotherSimfromaboytooyoungtoshavetoamantoo

oldtobeallowedto.Hemakesafinegirlalso,thoughthatwasadangerousbusinessinroadcompanyandreservedfortargetsthatjustcouldn’tbekilledanyotherway.YoungSimisforgettable.Whenhe’sgone,Iforgethowhelooks.SometimesIthinkofallmybrothersit’sSimthat’sthemostdangerous.

43

“Explainittomeagain.”Makinleanedforwardinthesaddletobeheardabovetherain.“Yourfatherstabsyou,butit’stoCountRenar’scastlewe’regoingsoyoucancutyourselfsomerevenge?”“Yes.”

“Andit’snoteventheCountwe’reafter.Nothimthatsentyoursaintedmotheronherway,butsomeoldcharmseller?”“Right.”“Whohadyouandthe

Nubanathismercywhenyoufirstranfromhome.Andletyougowithoutsomuchasabeating?”“Ithinkheputaspellon

theNuban’scrossbow,”I

said.“Well,ifhedid,itmust

havebeentopreventitmissing.TheNubancouldstopanarmywiththatthing.Giventherightspot.”“Therewasn’tmuchthat

theNubanmissed,trueenough,”Isaid.“So?”“So?”“So,Idon’tunderstand

whywe’reouthereinthe

pissingrainonstolennags,ridingintotheworstkindofdanger.”Irubbedmyjawwhere

he’dhitme.Itfeltsore.Thecoldnessoftheraindidlittletoeaseit.“What’stheworldabout,

Makin?”Helookedatme,eyes

narrowedagainstthewetnessofthewind.“Ineverhadtimeforthose

philosophersofyours,Jorg.I’masoldier,andthat’stheendofit.”“Soyou’reasoldier.

What’stheworldabout?”“War.”Hesetahandtothe

hiltofhissword,unconsciousoftheaction.“TheHundredWar.”“Andwhat’sthatabout,

soldier?”Iasked.“Ahundrednoble-born

fightingacrossasmanylands

fortheEmpirethrone.”“That’swhatIalways

thought,”Isaid.Theraincamedown

harder,bouncingoffthebacksofmyhandswithastingasifitcarriedice.Ahead,ataplacewheretheroadforked,Icouldseeaglow,threeoftheminfact,threepatchesofwarmlight.“Tavernupahead.”Ispat

water.

“Soaren’twefightingfortheEmpirethen?”Makinkeptpace,thoughhishorseslippedinthemudtorrentattheroadside.“IkilledPricehere,”Isaid.

“Outsidethisinn.TheycalleditTheThreeFrogsbackthen.”“Price?”“LittleRikey’sbig

brother,”Isaid.“Younevermethim.MadeRikelooklike

agentleman.”“Ohright,Irememberthe

story.ThebrotherstolditaroundthefireonceortwicewhenRikeywasoffonsomeprivatewhoring.”Wereachedtheinn.They

stillcalleditTheThreeFrogsifthesignwasanythingtogoby.“I’llbettheydidn’ttellyou

thewholestory.”“Brainedhimwitharock,