‘Her uncle is a fine commander,’ Anomander said. ‘Take her away, Gripp. Take both of you away.’

‘She would never forgive you,’ Gripp whispered. Nor would I. After a moment, while Anomander remained silent, Gripp cursed himself for a fool. Of course he knows that. And accepts the bargain, to see us live.

Neither speaking, both men turned about, to retrace their way back to the camp.

* * *

Pelk watched the Azathanai move away, presumably heading for his bedrolls. She glanced at Ivis a moment, before crouching to hold her hands closer to the fire.

‘You chose not to return to the Legion,’ Ivis observed after a moment.

‘So it seems,’ she replied.

‘Spared yourself this pogrom against the Deniers.’

‘I did.’

‘The Deniers have begun to fight back.’

She nodded.

‘Pelk.’

‘It’s done with, Ivis. It was a fine season, with misery on all sides, while our private island gave us refuge. Any storm can sweep the sand away. As it did to our blessed idyll. I have no regrets.’

He slowly settled on to a felled tree trunk that had been dragged close to the hearth, positioning himself upon her left. ‘I do,’ he said in a low voice. ‘That I ever turned away. That I was foolish enough to think it meant little. A time away from the fighting and the madness. Those damned Forulkan blathering on about justice, even as they bled out on the ground. When I left you, I left something of me behind.’ He hesitated, and then said, ‘When I went back to find it …’ He shook his head. ‘A loss that can never be recovered, never redressed.’

Pelk studied him, and then said, ‘Broken heart, Ivis. Heal it might, but the scar remains, and what you miss most is how it was before it broke, when that heart was whole. So, yes, you can’t get that back.’

‘Then you went and almost died.’

‘I got careless. Wounded peo

ple do.’

Ivis put his hands up to his face.

She thought to reach out to him, a touch, offering him the gentle weight of her hand on his shoulder. Instead, she edged both hands closer to the flickering flames and the harsh heat. ‘Best forget all of that,’ she said. ‘It was a long time ago. You weren’t the only fool, you know.’

He looked up with reddened eyes. ‘And now?’

‘I’ve found another.’

‘Ah.’

‘Kellaras.’

‘Yes … a good man. Honourable.’

‘You?’

‘No. No one. Well … no. I always look higher than my station. It’s my own private dance with inevitable disappointment. Someone beyond reach remains forever pure, unsullied. There is that, at least.’

She levelled her gaze on him. ‘You stupid fucking fool, Ivis.’

He pulled back as if she’d struck him across the face.

Pelk went on, ‘I ended up in the service of Lady Hish Tulla. I saw her reach down to Gripp Galas, if you must think of it that way. Bloodlines and rank and station and whatnot. All rubbish. If you find someone who fills your heart, fills in all the cracks and stops all the leaking, to the Abyss with station, Ivis. But you see, I understand you all too well. It’s your excuse for doing nothing.’

Tags: Steven Erikson The Kharkanas Trilogy Fantasy
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