He turned away. ‘I have no expectations, Seren, only fears. We should resume the journey.’
She glanced over at the Nerek. They sat or squatted near the wagons, steam rising from their backs. Their expressions were slack, strangely indifferent to the dead kin they had left behind in his makeshift grave of rutted mud, rocks and roots. How much could be stripped from a people before they began stripping away themselves? The steep slope of dissolution began with a skid, only to become a headlong run.
The Letherii believed in cold-hearted truths. Momentum was an avalanche and no-one was privileged with the choice of stepping aside. The division between life and death was measured in incremental jostling for position amidst all-devouring progress. No-one could afford compassion. Accordingly, none expected it from others either.
We live in an inimical time. But then, they are all inimical times .
It began to rain once more.
Far to the south, beyond the mountains they had just crossed, the downfall of the Tiste Edur was being plotted. And, she suspected, Hull Beddict’s life had been made forfeit. They could not afford the risk he presented, the treason he had as much as promised. The irony existed in their conjoined desires. Both sought war, after all. It was only the face of victory that was different.
But Hull possessed little of the necessary acumen to play this particular game and stay alive.
And she had begun to wonder if she would make any effort to save him.
A shout from Buruk’s wagon. The Nerek climbed wearily to their feet. Seren drew her cloak tighter about her shoulders, eyes narrowed on the path ahead. She sensed Hull coming to her side, but did not look over.
‘What temple was it you were schooled at?’
She snorted, then shook her head. ‘Thurlas, the Shrouded Sisters of the Empty Throne.’
‘Just opposite Small Canal. I remember it. What sort of child were you, Seren?’
‘Clearly, you have an image in your mind.’
She caught his nod in her periphery, and he said, ‘Zealous. Proper to excess. Earnest.’
‘There are ledgers, recording the names of notable students. You will find mine in them, again and again. For example, I hold title to the most punishments inflicted in a year. Two hundred and seventy-one. I was more familiar with the Unlit Cell than my own room. I was also accused of seducing a visiting priest. And before you ask, yes, I was guilty. But the priest swore otherwise, to protect me. He was excommunicated. I later heard he killed himself. Had I still possessed any innocence, I would have lost it then.’