‘You speak of words delivered in years to come, milady.’
‘I speak of my will, sir. I speak of need as power, which clearly you do not comprehend.’
‘Need … as power.’ Prok frowned into the flames. ‘Indeed, your words confound me. The very notion of need hints at weakness, milady. Where in it do you find power?’
‘Mother took him away from me. She sent him to Kharkanas. That was wrong. It was wrong, too, to send me to House Dracons, to make me a hostage again.’
‘Then I’d question the worth of her advice on matters of parenting.’
‘I will find Orfantal. I will make it the way I want it to be. No one can stop me. Not even Korlat.’
The conversation left Wreneck troubled, but he could find no reason for what he was feeling. Something burned fierce in Lady Sandalath, but he wasn’t sure it was love, or tenderness. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing at all.
‘The child is growing too fast,’ said Prok. ‘In unnatural manner. Sorcery feeds Korlat, a most alarming conclusion. Is she but the first such progeny?’
‘A demon gave her the child,’ said Sorca. ‘You posit an unlikely trend.’
‘Milady,’ Prok persisted, addressing Sandalath, ‘life itself is a burden. Your daughter has her own needs. The brother you would have her protect will not see it as you do. Indeed, he will likely cast a protective eye upon Korlat.’
‘He will not. He is the one who matters. The one I chose.’
‘Was Korlat given leave to choose you, milady? Or the manner of her conception? The seed of her father? How many burdens must she be made to bear?’
‘Only one. She will be my son’s guardian.’
Wreneck thought of the time in the carriage, when he held the baby and looked down into that perfect face with its shining eyes. He saw no burdens there. No, they’re what the rest of us bring, if we’re to people her world. My mother’s fear of the forest, her fear of being alone, her fear of me dying somewhere with her never knowing. Even her fear of Jinia, and me marrying her and us moving away. We bring those things. Those fears.
And like Sandalath said, those fears are needs, and together they have power.
But I turned away. I did what I had to do. I took on a different burden. The one about disappointing people. Needs can pull, or they can push.
I’ll find Orfantal. I’ll explain things. I’ll make him promise to turn away from his mother. Away from her, and straight to Korlat. Be a brother, I’ll say. The older brother. Take her hand, and don’t let your mother ever pull you two apart.
I’ll do all that. In the Citadel. And then I’ll go and look for the bad soldiers. I’ll kill them, and then I’ll go home, to Jinia. I’ll take away Mother’s burden
s – not all of them, just the ones I can do something about.
‘You all seem to forget,’ Sandalath said. ‘That demon. He chose me. Not you, Sorca, or any other woman. Me.’
So low were Prok’s words that Wreneck alone heard them: ‘Abyss take me …’
* * *
Sukul Ankhadu found Rancept in an antechamber near the servants’ corridor. He had laid out his scale shirt, his greaves and vambraces and his helm, which still bore its bent nose-guard. The weapons were set in a row on the floor: a mace, a shortsword, and a dagger that was more a spike than anything else. A round shield of a style not used in a generation, a buckler, and a hatchet completed his array of equipment.
His breathing was loud and wet as he crouched, inspecting buckles and straps.
Leaning against one wall, Sukul studied the man. ‘You’re abandoning me,’ she said. ‘Who will be left? Only Skild because of his game leg, and the maids.’
‘Skild will continue your schooling,’ Rancept replied.
‘And what schooling did you have?’
‘Scant.’
‘Precisely. I learn more sniffling underfoot at the meetings than I have from years of Skild’s lessons.’
He was silent for a time, examining the leather wrap of the mace’s handle. And then he said, ‘It takes a superior mind to achieve cynicism, and I don’t mean superior in a good way.’