Dathenar reached across to settle a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there is this.’
* * *
Wareth remained at Rebble’s side, holding the man’s weight as best he could as they clambered up the last few paces to reach the crest. The moment they arrived, Rebble reached up and gripped Wareth’s arm, just above the elbow, and tugged hard.
‘In the name of our Mother, Wareth, set me down.’
Together, they settled to the ground, Wareth being as gentle as he could with his friend. Rebble settled on to his back, eyes filled with pain as he stared skyward. ‘I make it thirty-seven,’ he said.
Wareth looked down, saw the blood still streaming from the sword-wound in Rebble’s chest. But the man wasn’t coughing blood – there was that mercy, at least. ‘Thirty-seven?’
Rebble lifted a trembling hand. ‘Doubt I can make it,’ he said, ‘but I’ll give it a try.’
Wareth wiped at his face. ‘You’re not making any sense,’ he said.
‘Tell me, Wareth, did I see true? Toras Redone kneeling beside a body? Was it Faror Hend who fell?’
To earn such grief? Such wails and tearing at hair? ‘No, Rebble. Galar Baras.’
‘Ah. Then. I see.’
‘She drew a knife and would have cut her own throat. Faror Hend prevented her, twisted the weapon free. In her face there was vengeance and satisfaction, as she glared down at the broken woman. Rebble, such things shake me.’
Others of the broken legion were settling here and there. Wareth saw drawn faces, expressions taut with the pain of wounds. But even then, something seemed to be missing.
‘Crack the knuckles,’ Rebble said.
‘What?’
‘One for every life I took, every fucked up stupidity I went and did. I make it four, for today. Not sure they all died, though. I’m thinking they didn’t. I’m hoping they didn’t. Anyway,’ he smiled up at the heavy clouds, ‘thirty-seven. Rebble’s idiot toll.’ He paused then, and shifted his gaze slightly, enough to meet Wareth’s eyes. ‘Them Bonecasters … quite the gift they gave us …’
Baffled, Wareth said, ‘I still don’t know what it was.’
‘Truly?’
Wareth nodded.
Rebble laughed, and then winced.
‘What gift, Rebble? What did that ritual do?’
‘No more lies. That’s all. No lying to anyone else. But mostly, no lying to yourself.’
Frowning, Wareth shook his head. ‘I’ve never lied to myself.’
Rebble studied him for a moment, and then said, ‘So, you never even noticed.’
‘No. I suppose not.’
Rebble brought his hands together over his belly. He began cracking his knuckles.
‘I need to know,’ Wareth said. ‘Why did you protect me? Back in the pit? Why did you bother?’
‘Why did I bother?’
‘Being my friend.’
Knuckles cracked. ‘I don’t know,’ Rebble replied, and then he smiled. ‘I guess you had an honest face.’