As the sun’s southerly light faded, he heard a howl in his wake.
‘Stupid pup. Even with your jaws on my throat, I’ll eviscerate you. It’s an exchange neither of us will win. By this, we proclaim our superior intelligence! Well, come along then, let us meet in the night, and between us raise yet another monument to foolishness.’ He paused in his steps, considering his words, and then nodded to himself. ‘Such delight resides in stating the obvious! As if mere words could tilt the world, sway it from its inevitable path. But then, what are we but the narrators of time’s senseless plunge ahead, with us pilgrims ever eager to raise banners wherever we make a stand. Yes, see me work the knife into this frozen earth …’ His words fell away as he saw, upon a rise ahead, two figures walking side by side, their backs to him.
One had the look of an old man.
The other was twice his companion’s height, serpent-tailed and leather-winged, a projecting, blunt snout making itself visible as the creature looked to left and to right in time with its slightly splayed strides.
Scabandari slowed his steps.
The wolf howled behind him, closer now. Close enough, as it turned out, for the two strangers to hear it, for they both halted and swung round.
Sighing, he resumed his march. The strangers waited for him to catch up.
The pale old man was the first to speak when Scabandari arrived. ‘You confound us,’ he said. ‘Where’s your saddle? I would have thought it majestically valuable, tooled by an artisan, or, perhaps, of leather supple enough to eat – rather than gamy horseflesh, one presumes.’
‘Wrong Tiste.’
‘Ah.’ The old man nodded. ‘Then … you pursue one before you?’
‘Not pursuit as such. More like … retrieval, as of a wayward child who has wandered off, unmindful of whatever modest responsibilities he might possess.’ He struggled to keep his eyes on the old man. The reptilian demon at the stranger’s side was repeatedly yawning, fangs clacking.
‘Well,’ the old man said, ‘children are like that. Now, as for the Soletaken on your trail …’
‘They wanted my horse. Two fell when I objected. The last one – the most witless of the three, I would imagine, but thus far the luckiest, now contemplates revenge.’
‘Not any more,’ the old man said, ‘as this faint breeze wanders south, and the Jheleck catches scent of Skillen Droe. You are safe enough, and since it seems that we walk the same path, you are welcome to accompany us.’
‘If it is not an imposition,’ Scabandari said.
‘Oh no,’ the old man said with a wan smile. ‘I would welcome proper conversation.’
‘Ah. Then your pet does not speak?’
The giant creature now swung its elongated head to the old man and seemed to stare down at him for a long moment, before suddenly snapping open its wings and, with a beating of the cold air, lifting from the ground.
‘Skillen,’ said the old man, ‘concurs with your assessment. The surviving wolf is indeed appallingly stupid. He will chase it off. Failing that, he will rip it to pieces.’
‘Oh, I plead some mercy in that regard,’ Scabandari replied, even as the reptile rose higher into the air above them. ‘The herds are gone, after all. All hunters must hunt, all eaters of meat must eat meat.’
‘Generous of you,’ the old man said, with an expression filled with approval. ‘Skillen hears you and will consider your plea. It is sufficient, you will be relieved to know, to offset that insult about his being my pet.’
‘My apologies for misapprehending, sir.’
‘I am K’rul. My companion and I are Azathanai. And you, Tiste?’
He bowed. ‘Scabandari, once of Urusander’s Legion, but now I suppose I must be considered a deserter.’
‘Yes, that explains your abandonment of Light’s blessing. It seems, Scabandari, that you march to the Grey Shore.’
He was unsure of the meaning of that. ‘I seek to retrieve Urusander’s son, Osserc.’
K’rul shrugged. ‘That may be as it may be, Scabandari, but your soul finds its own path.’
‘I know nothing of this Grey Shore.’
‘Nor should you, since it is yet to arrive.’
Scabandari frowned, and then smiled. ‘I think I shall enjoy our conversations, K’rul.’