‘Then how do you mean it?’
‘Convinced of its own genius, levitating upon the hot air of its own convictions, many of which are delusional.’
Grunting, Sukul sipped from the goblet she now carried with her everywhere. ‘The counter to all that, castellan, invariably cites a sense of realism in defence of a cynical outlook.’
‘Cynicism is the voice of ill-concealed despair, milady. The reality the cynic hides behind is one of his or her own making. Convenient, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I liked you better when all you did was mumble.’
‘And I you when the glow of your cheeks was youth’s blessing.’
‘Back to that again, is it? Tell me, did that woman, Sekarrow, ever play that musical instrument – what was it called? That iltre?’
‘Thankfully, no.’ He slowly, awkwardly straightened, reaching for the small of his back.
‘I argued for your staying, Rancept. You’re too old for battle. But Lady Hish Tulla said it was your decision to make. I disagree. It was hers. It remains hers. I will speak to her again.’
‘I would rather you didn’t, milady,’ Rancept replied, collecting his quilted shirt and working his way into it, his breaths harsh and loud.
‘They will use sorcery.’
‘I expect so, yes.’
‘Your armour won’t help any of you against that, will it?’
‘Probably not.’
‘You’re going to die.’
‘I will do my best to avoid that, milady. Is it not time for your lessons? Go and lighten Skild’s mood for a change.’
She set her goblet down on a ledge. ‘Here, that needs tying up the back.’
‘Summon a maid.’
‘No, I’m here and I’ll do it.’ He crouched down again and she moved up behind his broad, misshapen back. She tugged at the drawstrings, then released them suddenly and flung herself against him, arms wrapping tight. ‘Don’t go,’ she pleaded, eyes filling with tears.
He touched one of her hands, the gesture tentative. ‘Milady – Sukul, all will be well. I promise this.’
‘You can’t!’
‘I will return.’
‘You don’t know that – I’m not a child! The Houseblades cannot stand long against Urusander’s Legion!’
‘We have the Hust—’
‘No one has the Hust!’
‘Milady. Something you’ve not considered. Something, it seems, that no one has considered.’
‘What?’
‘The Hust blades. The Hust armour. Against sorcery, what answer will they give?’
He now slowly, tenderly, prised loose her grip around his neck, and then straightened and swung round to face her. His blunt hands settled on her shoulders.
Through tears, she looked up at him. ‘What – what do you mean?’