Renarr shook her head. ‘And if you should die, by design or’ – and she gestured down at Sagander’s body, which soldiers were now lifting from the road – ‘mischance, who will step forward to claim the throne? Who will reach, in your stead, for Mother Dark’s hand?’
Urusander said nothing, but he watched as Hunn Raal rode back towards the vanguard.
‘Warn her,’ Renarr said. ‘Warn her about the Issgin bloodline. Proclaim your heir as soon as you can and leave no doubt.’
Urusander flinched. ‘My son is nowhere to be found. And if he was here at my side … ah, still I would hesitate.’
‘An absent heir is in fact ideal, is it not?’
He stared at her, for a moment uncomprehending. She looked away, to wait it out.
The horns sounded, and it was time to resume the march. Sagander’s body now sprawled in careless repose by the roadside. The first of the crows that had been tracking the Legion landed in the muddy field close by, heads cocking as they regarded the waiting feast. Their time would be short, as the army’s train included grave-diggers, near the back of the column.
It didn’t take much courage for the first crow to hop closer, but what followed Renarr did not see, for she had already ridden past. Ah, now, a life dismissed. As easy as that.
Shortly after, even as the rim of the valley opened out ahead of them, Lord Urusander said, ‘As you said, Renarr, as you said.’
She wondered why she bothered.
* * *
Tathe Lorat could feel the heat of her fury, like a fever beneath the skin. A score of survivors from her husband’s company had finally caught up with the Legion, bearing news of the disaster. The fool was dead, his soldiers slaughtered in the manner of beasts. The Deniers of the forest had won a great victory, but she knew it would be short-lived.
We officers of the Legion are to be given land, holdings. Where else but in the forests? We will cut down every tree and leave the Deniers nowhere to hide. We’ll ride them down as if they were no more than rabid curs. I’ll see them skinned, their hides tanned, and make banners for my Houseblades.
Still … to be honest, he wasn’t much of a husband. Slow of wit, a man who delighted in the thought of my spreading my legs for other men – well, there are worse flaws than that, I suppose. Once I settled into it. Once I gave up the notion of driving him into outrage. Once I understood that I couldn’t hurt him, no matter how hard I tried.
Betrayal loses its heat with an indifferent, uncaring victim. He smiled the first time I announced that I’d taken to another man’s bed. That smile stung – oh, how it stung! After that, it got easier, but something was gone from it. The excitement of deceit, of forbidden lusts, all of that went away. Until all I had left was the novelty.
He thought to give me to Hunn Raal. If Raal had invited me to his bed I would have done it, with a knife hidden in my sleeve. I would have slit the drunk’s throat, and now we’d be free of him and his sorcery, free of this new tyranny.
Lord Anomander, I’ll not dissuade you should you reach Hunn Raal. I’ll not defend the bastard. Mother Dark, hear my prayer though my skin is white, though I am Liosan! Grant your First Son the power to defy Hunn Raal’s magic. Do this, and I will reject the Light. I will return to you. This I promise.
Infayen Menand rode up alongside her. ‘A misplay of magic,’ she said. ‘That one-legged scholar is dead.’
Tathe Lorat grunted but said nothing.
‘It’s on the wind,’ Infayen said. ‘Violence, bittersweet. Can you not feel it, Tathe?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, the tragic news of your husband’s death has left you wounded.’
‘I have no time to grieve,’ she replied, scowling. ‘My husband’s death has made me ill. Violence? This wind smells of mud and little else. Oh, do not give me that shining gaze, Infayen Menand, I know well the grisly glory you seek for yourself. You enjoy killing, and that is not something I can abide.’
‘And yet, can you not hear the mocking laughter of the Deniers?’
‘I hear that well enough, but they shall have to wait for my vengeance. And should I make it one of horror, they have earned it. I may yield to satisfaction, once I am done, but no gleam shall light my eyes.’
‘War is simple,’ Infayen Menand said. ‘This is why I love it so. Free yourself of all restraint in what is to come, Tathe Lorat.’
‘I will keep my head, thank you. We have grievances with the highborn and today they will be made to answer for them. They are one and all servants of Mother Dark, and she is to blame for this day. Her and none other. Those we face in this battle do not deserve to die.’
Infayen shook her head. ‘But die they will. This is not the time for pity, or mercy. With such notions clouding your head, you will be killed in the valley below.’
‘I will defend myself but no more than that,’ Tathe said, startled by her own decision. ‘You are too quick to cast away your respect for those about to face us. Lord Anomander, Draconus, Silchas Ruin. Have you forgotten how they fought at our side? Is it so easy for you to find hate for those who were once your friends? Be assured, I will bear that in mind.’
Infayen Menand laughed. ‘You were never my friend, Tathe Lorat. I’ve no time for sluts.’