Steven Erikson - Forge of Darkness

‘By darkness alone, she defends,’ Sheccanto replied. ‘By darkness alone, she preserves herself. And in that darkness she trusts but one man and that man does not belong to us. Indeed, I am told that he has left Kurald Galain. Westward, into the lands of the Azathanai. Old suspicions are awakened within me.’

Caplo studied her, the face now in profile, hawkish and sharp. ‘Suspicions you have not shared with your chosen assassin, Mother.’

‘Nor shall I, as no proof is possible. I will risk you, lieutenant, even unto losing you, for the sake of defending Mother Dark. It is not that we need her. We don’t. What we do need from her, however, is her gratitude — and her certainty of our allegiance.’

‘Paid in my blood.’

‘Paid in your blood.’

‘Not even the Azathanai can pierce the darkness enveloping Mother Dark.’

Ancient eyes fixed on his. ‘You cannot be certain of that. Does not her gift steal among her closest children? It is said Anomander has no need for light in his private chambers — servants report candles filmed with dust, their wicks not even blackened. Yet books are left lying opened on the map table, along with scrolls bearing his own handwriting. We have no path into this sorcery of hers, but this is not to say it is an obstacle to others.’

‘I am made uneasy, Mother, by this assignment. There are too many unknowns. Would it not be more prudent that I kill her here, in the monastery? Before she can pose any greater threat to our realm?’

‘Her presence here is known, lieutenant. The Wardens have given her into our care.’

Caplo nodded. ‘To persuade them to do so, we also made guarantee of the Azathanai’s safety. But these matters are all contingent. There is sufficient precedent for the unpredictability of our guest to make believable a tale of her initiating violence. Perhaps upon you, or among the monks. Yes, we may weather a period of indignation and accusation, but in the absence of details our word would stand, and prevail. As you taught me many years ago, an assassin seeks to control as much as possible the moment of assassination. I fear that very loss of control when in the Chamber of Night, in audience with Mother Dark and who knows how many other advisers in attendance.’

‘Those others, lieutenant,’ Sheccanto said, ‘will have uppermost in their minds the protection of Mother Dark, not the Azathanai.’

Caplo cocked his head. ‘It has been many years since you last left the monastery, Mother. I have seen Anomander fight, and even in a chamber the size of Mother Dark’s, it is my judgement that he would reach me before I could kill the Azathanai. If not him, then Silchas Ruin.’ At her steady glare he shrugged. ‘Perhaps it is a gift of Mother Dark’s sorcery that has earned them such skills. Or perhaps their talent is entirely natural. Either way, I wager my chances at success as very low; in which case, if I understand you, my life is to be sacrificed as a symbol of Shake loyalty.’

‘We were speaking of this T’riss posing a threat to Mother Dark. I ask that you hold yourself in readiness for such a possibility.’

‘Of course I shall.’

‘And I trust you will understand, should the moment come, that your sacrifice is entirely necessary. After all, we will be the ones delivering the Azathanai into an audience with Mother Dark.’

Caplo lifted his brows. ‘Absolution of consequences? And if no one survives the battle but T’riss?’

‘Then few would argue, lieutenant, that we are all lost. Now then, you will have other responsibilities when in Kharkanas. Hold still your thoughts while I explain.’

A short time later, Caplo emerged into the courtyard and made his way towards the fountain. Warlock Resh was standing at a respectable distance from T’riss, who wandered naked through the knee-deep water, droplets glistening on her burnished skin. There were signs of sunburn upon her shoulders, the patches of peeling skin reminding Caplo of shedding snakes. Apart from the warlock and the Azathanai, no one else was within sight anywhere in the courtyard.

Children either flee the baring of flesh, or gawk. But it is unseemly to gawk. For me, I but admire.

He came up to stand beside Resh. ‘It is said that we are ever students, no matter our age.’

Resh grunted. ‘Lessons oft repeated, never quite learned. I see before me a new treatise on life.’

‘The critics will savage you.’

‘They shall be as midges upon my hide. Frenzied in scale, but the scale is small.’

‘Then I shall look with delight upon your pocked and wealed self.’

‘It is your secret admiration of savages, Caplo, which your words now betray.’

‘All betrayal will begin, or end, with words.’

‘Savage ones?’

‘I imagine so, Resh.’

T’riss had made her way to the far side of the fountain and now sat upon the broad ledge, face upturned to the sun and eyes closed.

‘If Mother Dark had rejected the element of Night and taken the element of Silence instead,’ mused Resh, ‘there would be peace everlasting.’

‘You suggest then,’ Caplo asked, ‘that all instances of violence involve some manner of betrayal?’

‘I do, and it shall be first and pre-eminent in my list of lessons never learned.’

‘The hawk betrays the hare? The swift betrays the fly?’

‘In a manner of speaking, most certainly, my sickly friend.’

‘Then we are all doomed to betray, since it seems implicit in the very act of survival.’

Resh faced him. ‘Have you not witnessed for yourself the anguish of philosophers? The glee of their guilt, the eager admonition of their selves and all kin? We have all betrayed the promise of everlasting peace, and was there not an age, long ago, when death was unknown? When sustenance itself was without cost or sacrifice?’

That notion was an old joke between them. ‘Warlock Resh,’ Caplo now replied, ‘all the philosophers I have seen are either drunk or insensate.’

‘’Tis the sorrows of loss, friend, and the wallows of recognition.’

‘’Tis weakness of will, I wager the more likely.’

‘A will crumbled helpless to the assault of revelation. When we are driven to our knees, the world shrinks.’

His eyes on T’riss, Caplo sighed and said, ‘Ah, Resh, but not all revelation arrives as an assault.’

‘You give me reason to drink.’

‘Then your reason is weak.’

‘And lo, I am the only philosopher brave enough to admit it.’

‘Only because you’re sober, and I always question the courage of sobriety.’

They both fell silent as T’riss rose once again and made her way over. Eyes flicking briefly to Caplo she said, ‘Your Mother advised against my murder, then? It is well. You would not like my blood on your hands, lieutenant.’

Caplo said nothing for a long moment, and then he cocked his head. ‘Guest, you surmise extreme conduct on our part. It is unseemly.’

She nodded. ‘It is.’

‘I am pleased that we agree-’

‘Murder always is,’ she continued. ‘I tasted the distrust in my friend, Faror Hend, upon your intervention. There were many levels to her displeasure.’

‘We mean you no harm,’ said Caplo, ‘but if we must, we will defend our own.’

‘I see much room for debate, lieutenant, as to what constitutes “your own”. Of course, you rely upon that ambiguity.’

‘Does that comment refer to me personally, or people in general?’

Beside Caplo, Resh seemed to flinch.

‘I do not know sufficient “people” to comment on them,’ T’riss replied, sitting down before them and running a hand through the warm water. ‘I believe you are a killer, and that you are both given reasons for the necessity, and assemble in private more of your own, bolstering such justifications as needed.’