Fall of Light (The Kharkanas Trilogy 2)

‘What is your purpose, Azathanai? What is your goal?’

‘A friend has promised peace,’ Grizzin Farl replied. ‘I seek to honour that.’

‘What friend? Another Azathanai? And what manner this peace?’

‘You think the Son of Darkness walks alone through the ruined forest. He does not. At his side is Caladan Brood. Summoned by the blood of a vow.’

Silchas Ruin’s brows lifted in astonishment.

‘I do not know how peace will be won,’ Grizzin continued. ‘But for this moment, friend, I judge it wise to keep Lord Draconus from the High Mason’s path.’

‘A moment, please. The Consort remains with Mother Dark, seduced unto lethargy by your influence? Do you tell me that Draconus – that even Mother Dark – is unaware of what goes on outside their Chamber of Night?’

Grizzin Farl shrugged. ‘Perhaps they have eyes only for each other. What do I know? It is dark in there!’

‘Spare me the jests, Azathanai!’

‘I do not jest. Well, not so much. The Terondai – so lovingly etched on to the Citadel floor by Draconus himself – blazes with power. The Gate of Darkness is manifest now in the Citadel. Such force buffets any who would seek to pierce it.’

‘What threat does Caladan Brood pose to Lord Draconus? This makes no sense!’

‘No, I see that it does not, but I have already said too much. Perhaps Mother Dark will face the outer world, and see what is to be seen. Even I cannot predict what she might do, or what she might say to her lover. We Azathanai are intruders here, after all.’

‘Draconus has

had more congress with Azathanai than any other Tiste.’

‘He surely knows us well,’ Grizzin Farl agreed.

‘Is this some old argument, then? Between Draconus and the High Mason?’

‘They generally avoid one another’s company.’

‘Why?’

‘That is not for me to comment on, my friend. I am sorry.’

Silchas Ruin threw up his hands and leaned back. ‘I begin to question this friendship.’

‘I am aggrieved by your words.’

‘Then we have evened this exchange.’ He rose from his chair. ‘I may join you again. I may not.’

Grizzin watched the nobleborn leave the tavern. He saw how others looked up at the white-skinned brother of Lord Anomander, as if in hope, but if they sought confidence or certainty in Silchas Ruin’s mien, the gloom no doubt defeated that desire. Twisting in his chair, Grizzin caught the eye of the serving woman, and with a broad smile he beckoned her over.

* * *

High Priestess Emral Lanear stepped up on to the platform and looked across to see the historian near the far wall, as if contemplating a leap to the stones far below. She looked round, and then spoke. ‘So this is your refuge.’

He glanced at her, briefly, from over a shoulder, and then said, ‘Not all posts have been abandoned, High Priestess.’

She approached. ‘What is it you guard, Rise Herat, demanding such vigilance?’

Shrugging, he said, ‘Perspective, I suppose.’

‘And what does that win you?’

‘I see a bridge,’ he replied. ‘Undefended, and yet … none dare cross it.’