Fall of Light (The Kharkanas Trilogy 2)

‘How so??

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‘They are two men who hold honour above all else. It is the proof of integrity, after all, and they choose to live that proof in all that they do.’ He faced her again. ‘A battle is coming. Facing Urusander, Anomander will command all the Houseblades of the Greater and Lesser Houses. And, perhaps, a resurrected Hust Legion. Paint this picture I offer, High Priestess. The field of battle, the forces arrayed opposite one another. Where, then, do you see Lord Draconus? At the head of his formidable Houseblades – who so efficiently annihilated the Borderswords? He will stand on his honour, yes?’

‘Anomander will not deny him,’ she whispered.

‘And then?’ Rise asked. ‘When the highborn see who would stand with them in the battle to come? Will they not in rage – in fury – step to one side?’

‘But wait, historian. Surely Anomander will blame his highborn allies for abandoning the field?’

‘Perhaps at first. Anomander will see that defeat is inevitable. Thus, there will be the humiliation of the surrender to Urusander, and he cannot but see the Consort’s gesture as the cause of that. A surrender forced by Draconus’s pride, and when the Consort remains unrepentant – he can do no other, as he will see the surrender as a betrayal, as he must; indeed, he will understand it as his own death sentence – then, Lanear, we see them set upon one another.’

‘The highborn will acclaim Anomander’s disavowal of that friendship,’ she said, nodding. ‘Draconus will end up isolated. He cannot hope to defeat such united opposition. That battle, historian, will be the last of the civil war.’

‘I love this civilization too much,’ Rise said, as if tasting the words for himself, ‘to see it destroyed. Mother Dark must never know any of this.’

‘She will never forgive her First Son.’

‘No.’

‘Honour,’ she said, ‘is a terrible thing.’

‘All the more egregious our crime, High Priestess, in forging a weapon in the flames of integrity, a fire we will feed until it burns itself out. You see him as a son. I do not envy you, Lanear.’

A voice screamed in her mind, rising up from her wounded soul. The pain that birthed that scream was unbearable. Love and betrayal on a single blade. She felt the edge turn and twist. But I see no other way! Must Kharkanas die in flames? Will Urusander’s soldiers be made into crass thugs, and as thugs take power unopposed, unchecked? Are we doomed to make lovers of war into our rulers? How soon, then, before Mother Dark reveals a raptor’s eyes, with talons gripping the arms of the throne? Oh, Anomander, I am sorry. Roughly, she wiped at her eyes and cheeks. ‘I will trap the crime in my mirror,’ she said in a broken voice, ‘where it can howl unheard.’

‘And to think how Syntara underestimates you.’

She shook her head. ‘No longer, perhaps. I have written to her.’

‘You have? Then it begins in earnest.’

‘We will see. She is yet to reply.’

‘Did you address her as an equal, High Priestess?’

She nodded.

‘Then you make your language familiar, in the ancient sense of the word. She will preen in that plumage.’

‘Yes. Vanity was ever the breach in her walls.’

‘We assemble a sordid list here, Lanear. When fortresses abound, we make sieges life’s daily habit. In such a world, we each stand alone at day’s end, and face in fear our barred door.’ The strain deepened the lines on his face. ‘A most sordid list.’

‘Each one a single step upon the path, historian. No longer can you hold to this post, high above the world. Now, Rise Herat, you must walk among the rest of us.’

‘I will write none of this. The privilege is gone from my heart.’

‘It is just the blood on your hands,’ she replied, without much sympathy. ‘When it is all said and done, you can wash them clean in the river below. And in time, as that river flows on and on, the truth will be dispersed, until none could hope to discern your crimes. Or mine.’

‘Then I will see you kneeling at my side on that day, High Priestess.’

She nodded. ‘If there can be whores of history, Rise, then we are surely in their company.’

He was studying her, with the face of a condemned man.

See now, woman? The mirrors are everywhere.