Wareth settled back on to his haunches. He saw now that everyone among the Hust had halted their march, gathering in silent clumps. No lies, is that what is missing here? In these faces? These raw stares into the distance?
Listar still lived, but he didn’t know about Rance. So many of the other officers drawn up from the prisoner ranks were dead. They’d come to the fore in the Legion’s desperate withdrawal, holding back the enemy and giving up their lives to do so.
Wareth’s throat was still raw from his frantic shouting. And yet, impossibly, the Hust had responded to his desperate commands, and when Prazek and then Dathenar curled their companies around, folding them into the retreat, the Hust Legion’s day of battle was done. Through it all, Toras Redone was nowhere to be seen, until the very end.
He listened to his friend cracking his knuckles until the sound of bones popping stopped.
Rebble never managed all thirty-seven, and, as simply as that, his only friend was gone.
He edged closer, to lift Rebble’s head and rest it on his thighs. He groomed the man’s beard with his fingers, pulling at the knots, and studied the peaceful repose of the face, knowing that he would never again see it animate, that hard grin, the sly flick of the gaze, and the raging temper that hung like a storm-cloud behind everything.
Rebble, my friend. You weren’t any more than what you were. I treasured you. How I treasured you.
Someone moved to halt at his side and Wareth looked up into Listar’s face. ‘He’s gone, Listar.’
‘Just the two of us, then,’ Listar replied.
‘Two?’
‘Who stood between them and the Cats.’ Listar paused and then said, ‘The coward and the man who wanted to die. The honourable one – why, as you say, now he’s dead.’
Wareth considered the man’s words, and their harsh, blunt tone. ‘No lies,’ he said.
‘I couldn’t do it, Wareth. I couldn’t kill anyone. All I did was defend.’
‘So it was with most of them, Listar. I saw it, on all sides. That’s how I knew that we would never win. Wouldn’t yield either. Just stand there, dying. I saw it, Listar, though I didn’t understand it. Not until Rebble explained. The ritual—’
‘Yes, my beloved gift to you all.’
‘You were sent.’
‘I was sent. But what did I ask for? From them? Has anyone even asked me that? They said we needed something to absolve us, to cleanse us, to sweep away the curse of our crimes.’
Wareth stroked Rebble’s cooling brow. ‘Is that not what you asked, Listar?’
‘No. Not quite.’
‘Then … what?’
‘I wanted us – all of us – to accept who we were. To face our crimes, our cruel pasts, our vicious thoughts. If we’re to feel, Wareth – I told the Bonecasters – if we’re to feel, then do not let us hide, or run from those feelings. Do not let us pretend.’
Wareth lifted his gaze, squinted up at Listar.
‘You still don’t get it,’ Listar said. ‘You’re not the only coward. Not even close. This Hust Legion, all these convicts. Wareth, most of them are cowards. Those men we faced down in the pit, the ones eager to get at the women. Was it just lust? No. Rapists are many things, but mostly they’re cowards, the kind that has to feed on victims. It’s a different kind of cowardice from yours, Wareth, but it’s still cowardice. Why did they all hate you? Because you were the sole coward not in hiding.’ The man paused then, looking away. ‘Look at them, Wareth. Blessed by my gift. Seeing them, I think that Rebble’s the lucky one.’
With that, Listar stumbled away.
Wareth stared after him. No lies. Well, that’s no proof against being stupid.
Shit, I forgot to ask him about Rance.
* * *
‘Priest.’
Endest Silann looked up, saw a woman in the livery of a Houseblade. His attention proved brief, as inevitably he resumed staring at his hands where they rested on his thighs.
‘Are you fit to stand?’ the woman asked.