Fall of Light (The Kharkanas Trilogy 2)

‘Hunn Raal deems himself immune. Perhaps he is right in that. Leave him to Syntara. He’s her problem, not mine. Mother Dark has the right of it. We step back, saying little. The condition of our people is for them to decide. I considered setting forth my laws, my foundations upon which a just society could rise. But how soon before my words are twisted? My premises twisted and suborned? How soon before we, in our mortal natures, corrupt such laws, each time in answer to a wholly self-serving need?’

‘Have we seen the last of honourable men and women, Vatha Urusander?’

He straightened once more, but did not turn to face her. ‘The brutes are in ascension, Renarr. Against that, reason has no chance. You think the blood has ended? I fear it is only beginning.’

‘Then, sir, nothing has been solved.’

‘I am not the man to solve this,’ Urusander said. ‘But,’ he added after a moment, ‘you knew as much, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘What of my son?’

‘His judgement was in error.’

‘Error?’

‘A young man bereft of responsibility will yearn for it,’ she replied. ‘A young man will see the virtues of duty and honour as shining things, harsh and not subject to compromise. From such a position, he may well make mistakes, but they remain well meant.’

Still he would not face her. ‘Something in you is broken.’

‘Something in me is broken.’

‘My son killed the man you loved. He … misapprehended the situation.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yet, it seems, you have forgiven him.’

‘I wish,’ she said, ‘you had killed Hunn Raal. I wish you would stand behind your sense of justice.’

He grunted. ‘No exceptions, no compromises. Had I done what was right, each and every time …’

‘Instead, you did nothing, and now here you stand, Vatha Urusander. Father Light.’

‘Yes, my blinding gift.’ He was silent for a time, and then he said, ‘Have you seen it yet?’

‘What?’

‘My portrait. In the corridor on the approach to these chambers. Kadaspala did well, I think.’

‘I am afraid I did not notice it,’ Renarr said. ‘I give little regard to art, especially the compromised kind.’

‘Ah, then, are all portraits a compromise? In his sour moments, I think Kadaspala would agree with you.’ He leaned both hands on the windowsill. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems that I am not to be forgiven.’

‘Only your son.’

She saw him nod, and then he sighed and said, ‘Tell them, will you, of the likeness. So deftly, so honestly captured by that blind man’s hand.’

‘He was not blind when he painted you, I think.’

‘Wasn’t he? No, demonstrably not, as far as that goes.’

‘Vatha Urusander,’ said Renarr, ‘there will be justice.’

She saw him nod again, in the instant before her knife sank deep beneath his left shoulder blade, stilling the beat of his heart. Unblinking, she stepped back, leaving the dagger in his back. He tilted forward, forehead striking the leaded window, before his legs gave out and he fell to the floor at her feet.

Looking down, she saw the smile on his face. Peaceful, content, lifeless.