The Azathanai glanced again at the heavy clouds overhead. ‘But I would advise you decide on the instant, First Son.’
‘A single word from me can win this battle, and with it, the entire war.’
‘It can,’ Caladan replied.
‘Returning Draconus to his love’s side. Ending this incursion of Liosan into our realm. Saving even the precious possessions of the highborn.’
‘Just so.’
A half-dozen soldiers set out, hurrying down to where the priests were now lying side by side, one dead and the other perhaps only moments from joining him.
‘Am I a coward,’ Anomander asked, ‘to abjure from giving you leave to slaughter my enemy? If I refuse you, Azathanai …’
‘You will lose this battle, milord, and many of your Tiste Andii will die. In place of that, sir, I offer you naught but Liosan dead. But as I said, time is short. Wait too long, and I will be matched.’
‘By Hunn Raal?’
‘No. He is still too clumsy with the power of Elemental Light. Another comes, and she is not far.’
Anomander seemed nonplussed.
Suddenly stiffening, Kellaras said, ‘Forgive me, sirs. Azathanai, do you speak of one of your own?’
Caladan Brood sighed, and then nodded. ‘She whom you have named T’riss. Content only with balance, I’m afraid. A sentiment plaguing many of my kin.’
‘But not you,’ said Anomander.
The Azathanai shrugged. ‘You wanted peace, First Son.’
‘My answer to all that I fear. My response to all that threatens me. Caladan Brood, you would see me become a tyrant in the name of purity, in the name of a peace that is maintained at any cost.’
‘Yes, milord.’
‘Azathanai, I must refuse you.’
‘I understand—’
‘Do you? I name that presumption, sir. This war belongs to the Tiste. Absolve none of us. Nor, indeed, is such absolution yours to give.’ He cast Kellaras a glare. ‘Ride on, captain, this instant!’
‘Milord.’ Kellaras gathered up his reins. Moments later he was riding for the left flank, and his mind was a storm of chaos. You decry sentiment, Anomander? You damned fool, by what other name have you just surrendered certain victory?
Ahead, he saw Lord Draconus, and at his side, Ivis. Both men were now positioned in front of their Houseblades, and it was clear that they would lead the charge.
Not a coward’s thought, not there, with those two fools. Abyss below. Sentiment!
Win her back, will you, Draconus? With this dusk and its suffocating madness? I fear not, sir, oh, Mother save us, I fear not.
* * *
And now, an eternity later, the battle was done, and still the night held back, a drawn breath suspended in the firmament. Kellaras remained standing in the midst of the battlefield. Figures moved here and there, lending what aid they could to those fallen who still lived. Here, at last, it mattered not the uniform worn, as every piteous cry proclaimed no colours, and even the skin, cloven white or black, was made one in the mud.
Someone approached from his left, and Kellaras slowly turned, to see Silchas Ruin. He felt his own spine stiffening as he straightened, concealing the fury he felt behind his soldier’s mask, his survivor’s insensate mien. ‘Milord,’ he said.
‘He struck the standard?’
Kellaras nodded. ‘And now makes formal surrender.’
Silchas Ruin was wounded, blood thick upon his left shoulder. ‘It was the highborn, Kellaras. Our betrayers. Mother Dark’s own children of the blood. Did you see the Hust, captain? Did you see how they held? I’d not thought it possible. Convicts. Murderers. Truly that iron is its own sorcery.’ He stood, now watching his brother in the distance. ‘He struck the standard,’ he said again.