Joe Abercrombie - The Blade Itself

“We’ll see,” she hissed.

“That’s all I ask. That, and that you give Yulwei and I a moment to discuss some… matters. Matters best discussed in private.”

“It’s alright, Ferro,” said Yulwei, “they are friends.” She was damn sure they weren’t her friends, but she allowed him to shepherd her out of the door behind the two pinks. “Just try not to kill any of them.”

This room was much like the other. They had to be rich, these pinks, for all they didn’t look it. Great big fireplace, made of dark veined stone. Cushions, and soft cloth round the window, covered in flowers and birds in tiny stitches. There was a painting of a stern man with a crown on his head, frowning down at Ferro from the wall. She frowned back at him. Luxury.

Ferro hated luxury even more than she hated gardens.

Luxury meant captivity more surely than the bars of a cage. Soft furniture spelled danger more surely than weapons. Hard ground and cold water was all she needed. Soft things make you soft, and she wanted no part of that.

There was another man waiting in there, walking round and round with his hands behind his back, as though he didn’t like to stand still too long. Not quite a pink, his leathery skin was somewhere between hers and theirs in tone. Head shaved, like a priest. Ferro didn’t like that.

She hated priests most of all.

His eyes lit up when he saw her though, for all her sneering at him, and he hurried over. A strange little man in travel-worn clothes, the top of his head came up no higher than Ferro’s mouth. “I am Brother Longfoot,” flapping his hands around all over the place, “of the great order of Navigators.”

“Lucky for you.” Ferro turned her shoulder towards him, straining her ears to hear what the two old men were saying beyond the door, but Longfoot was not deterred.

“It is lucky! Yes, yes, it most certainly is! God has truly blessed me! I declare that never, in all of history, has a man been so well suited to his profession, or a profession to a man, as I, Brother Longfoot, am suited to the noble science of Navigation! From the snow-covered mountains of the far North, to the sun-drenched sands of the utmost South, the whole world is my home, truly!”

He smiled at her with a look of sickening self-satisfaction. Ferro ignored him. The two pinks, the big one and the scrawny one, were talking to each other on the far side of the room. They spoke in some language she didn’t understand. Sounded like pigs grunting. Talking about her maybe, but she didn’t care. They went out another door, leaving her alone with the priest, still flapping his lips.

“There are few nations within the Circle of the World to which I, Brother Longfoot, am a stranger, and yet I am at a loss as to your origins.” He waited expectantly, but Ferro said nothing. “You would like me to guess, then? Indeed, it is a riddle. Let me see… your eyes have the shape of the people of distant Suljuk, where the black mountains rise sheer from the sparkling sea, indeed they do, and yet your skin is—”

“Stop your mouth, cunt.”

The man paused in mid-sentence, coughed and moved away, leaving Ferro to attend to the voices on the other side of the door. She smiled to herself. The wood was thick and the sounds were muffled, but the two old men had not reckoned on the sharpness of her ears. They were still speaking in Kantic. Now that idiot of a Navigator was quiet she could make out every word that Yulwei was saying.

“…Khalul breaks the Second Law, so you must break the First? I like it not, Bayaz! Juvens would never have allowed this!” Ferro frowned. Yulwei had a strange note in his voice. Fear. The Second Law. He had spoken of it to the Eaters, Ferro remembered. It is forbidden to eat the flesh of men.

She heard the bald pink next. “The First Law is a paradox. All magic comes from the Other Side, even ours. Whenever you change a thing you touch the world below, whenever you make a thing you borrow from the Other Side, and there is always a cost.”

“But the cost of this might be too high! It is a cursed thing, this Seed, a damned thing. Nothing but chaos grows from it! The sons of Euz, so great in wisdom and power, this Seed was the end of them, of all of them, in different ways. Are you wiser than Juvens, Bayaz? Are you more cunning than Kanedias? Are you stronger than Glustrod?”

“None of those, brother, but tell me… how many Eaters has Khalul made?”

A long pause. “I cannot be sure.”

“How many?”

Another pause. “Perhaps two hundred. Perhaps more. The priesthood scour the South for those with any promise. Faster and faster now he makes them, but most are young, and weak.”

“Two hundred or more, and growing all the time. Many are weak, but among them are some that might be a match for you or I. Those that were Khalul’s apprentices in the Old Time—the one they called the East Wind, and those cursed bloody twins.”

“Damn those bitches!” Yulwei groaned.

“Not to mention Mamun, whose lies began this chaos.”

“The trouble was well rooted before he was even born, you know it, Bayaz. Still Mamun was in the Badlands. I felt him near. He is grown terrible strong.”

“You know that I am right. Meanwhile, our numbers hardly grow.”

“I thought this one, Quai, showed promise?”

“We need only a hundred more like him and twenty years in which to train them. Then we might stand on equal terms. No, brother, no. We must use fire against fire.”

“Even if the fire burns you and all creation to ashes? Let me go to Sarkant. Khalul might yet hear reason—”

Laughter. “He has enslaved half the world! When will you wake, Yulwei? When he has enslaved the rest of it? I cannot afford to lose you, brother!”

“Remember, Bayaz, there are worse things than Khalul. Far worse.” His voice dropped to a whisper and Ferro strained to hear. “The Tellers of Secrets are always listening…”

“Enough, Yulwei! It is better not even to think of it!” Ferro frowned. What was this nonsense? Tellers of Secrets? What secrets?

“Remember what Juvens told you, Bayaz. Beware of pride. You have been using the Art. I know it. I see a shadow on you.”

“Damn your shadows! I do what I must! Remember what Juvens told you , Yulwei. One cannot watch forever. Time is short, and I will watch no longer. I am first. It is my decision to make.”

“Have I not always followed where you have led? Always, even when my conscience told me otherwise?”

“And have I ever led you wrong?”

“That remains to be seen. You are first, Bayaz, but you are not Juvens. It is my part to question, and that of Zacharus too. He will like this still less than I. Far less.”

“It must be done.”

“But others will pay the price, as they always have. This Northman, Ninefingers, he can speak to the spirits?”

“Yes.” Ferro frowned. Spirits? The nine-fingered pink had scarcely looked as if he could speak to other humans.

“And if you find the Seed,” came Yulwei’s voice from behind the door, “you mean for Ferro to carry it?”

“She has the blood, and someone must.”

“Be careful then, Bayaz. I know you, remember. Few better. Give me your word that you will keep her safe, even after she has served your purpose.”

“I will guard her more closely than I would my own child.”

“Guard her closer than you did the Maker’s child, and I will be satisfied.”

A long silence. Ferro worked her jaw as she thought on what she had heard. Juvens, Kanedias, Zacharus—the strange names meant nothing to her. And what kind of seed could burn all creation to ashes? She wanted no part of any such thing, she was sure of that. Her place was in the south, fighting the Gurkish with weapons that she understood.