Fourth moon, night, day forty of the siege
Mireces encampment, outside Rilporin, Wheat Lands
Lanta paced before the men kneeling in her tent, her hammer dangling from one hand. The temptation to kill them all, the Godblind included, rose strong inside her. She fought it back.
Corvus hadn’t allowed her any men to search for Gilda, forcing Lanta to send her own guards out in pursuit. And here they were, returned empty-handed and penitent as children caught stealing.
‘Forgive us, Blessed One,’ Scell said, ‘we cannot find her. The witch has vanished.’
Lanta ignored him and stopped in front of the Godblind. His right arm was in a sling and he stared at her out of a swollen, ripped face. The spike attached to Gilda’s chain had gone into his shoulder even as his knife had ripped open her arm, and her second strike had, without doubt, been aimed at his eye. She’d missed though, the Godblind’s own attack foiling hers, and the unexpectedness of the violence – I underestimated the bitch – had allowed her precious seconds to slip through the tent flap and sprint into the night while Lanta screamed for her guards.
Her fingers twitched on the haft of the hammer. The Mireces fell to their faces before her, grovelling. The Godblind didn’t move.
‘Forgive you?’ she said softly. ‘I think not. Godblind, pick him up.’
The Wolf stood and lifted Scell on to his knees with his one good arm, fist tight in the back of his shirt. ‘Stand,’ he grated.
‘P-please, Blessed One, please,’ Scell tried. ‘We’ll keep looking; the search isn’t over yet. There’s still time.’
‘No, there isn’t,’ the Godblind said. ‘Gilda has met Rillirin. She knows; soon she’ll know everything. The future has changed already.’
‘And where are they?’ Lanta demanded, excitement flaring in her belly. ‘Tell me and we can send men out to retrieve them.’ The haft was warm in her fist, a comforting reminder of the gods, of her duty. Her privilege.
‘They flee together.’ She watched as his face writhed, right eyelid flickering. A low whine like a beaten dog’s shoved its way out of his throat and his back arched, though he didn’t let go of Scell. ‘They … ah! They flee south. Let them go, let them go and focus on the siege. On Rivil and the breach – breach soon. Treachery.’
Lanta put her head on one side. ‘You would see them escape?’
The Godblind curled in on himself so hard and fast he dropped to one knee behind Scell. He whined again and the Mireces shied away from him. ‘She carries my seed; I’ll always be able to find her. When we have the city we can bring her in. The babe is months away; victory is not.’
Lanta pursed her lips. ‘Stand, Godblind. Hold him.’
Shaking from the knowing, fresh blood darkening the bandages on his shoulder, he complied. Scell babbled something frantic and pointless, and Lanta didn’t wait for him to finish. Failure could never be ignored. She stepped forward and swung, hard and around, the hammer crunching into his temple. He fell, boneless, blood and brain oozing through shattered skull and torn skin.
The remaining Mireces looked at the twitching corpse and prayed, readying themselves with more grace than Scell had managed. ‘Next,’ Lanta said, pointing with the gory head of the hammer. The Godblind raised the man on to his knees and held him tight. She swung.
When it was done and more Mireces had dragged the bodies away, Lanta called for the prisoners they’d taken on the river. Corvus’s interrogators had been to work on them, but so far none had said anything of any use.
She beckoned the Godblind to her. ‘Every time I think I can trust you, you do something like this, tell me to turn from my chosen path.’
Bloodshot brown eyes stared into hers. ‘Rillirin and Gilda have crossed the Gil and are heading south. Gilda has told Rillirin that she’s pregnant. She’s told her about … me. What I am now. Rillirin … grieves for me.’ He put his left hand on Lanta’s cheek and she jerked away. ‘You can go and get them now if you want, but the wall’s coming down and they’re nearly through at the South Gate and Rivil will never let you win and all the world hangs in the balance.’
She stepped back and licked her lips.
‘I will always be able to find them,’ he repeated softly.
The tent flap opened and Corvus strode in ahead of the prisoners, heavy chains weighing them down.
‘We are so close, Blessed One, so close to a breach now.’ He gestured to the prisoners. ‘Sacrifices?’
‘A test,’ she replied shortly. She eyed the prisoners and then the Godblind. ‘Start with the Wolves,’ she said. ‘Make me trust you again.’
‘They have nothing else to tell us,’ he said. ‘Nothing of import.’
Lanta licked her teeth. ‘And why should that matter?’ She studied him intently as he looked over the prisoners.
The Godblind bowed his head. ‘Your will, honoured.’ He gestured. ‘Bring me that one. Seth Lightfoot, tracker, the little cousin of little Dalli Shortspear. An unrequited love for Rillirin. Thinks because he saved her life she should love him. Jumped into the river to save her after she fell in. Failed.’
The young Wolf’s head was hanging, his face swollen beyond recognition with bruises. ‘Dom?’ he slurred. ‘Gods, Dom, what are you doing here? Help us!’
The Godblind slid his arm out of his sling and flexed it, grunting at the pain. Then he hauled Seth to the water barrel set in the centre of the tent. Next to it was a table covered with knives and other things. ‘Convert or die,’ he said.
‘What?’ Seth managed before Dom shoved his head into the barrel and held him while he thrashed. The other Wolves shouted and struggled, and their guards clubbed them on to their knees, more bruises to add to the multitude. Lanta folded her arms and watched Dom. The prisoners didn’t interest her.
‘Is everything all right, Blessed One?’ Corvus murmured.
Lanta waited while Dom roared the question in Seth’s face again before shoving him once more into the water. ‘Your sister let the Godblind put his seed in her belly,’ she said and saw Corvus’s mouth tighten in disgust.
‘I had thought to make her my queen,’ he said in a low voice, ‘as the Mireces kings of old did, marrying their sisters to honour the Dark Lady and the God of Blood. This … changes things. Still, a pennyroyal tea when we have her in our grasp will end that.’
‘No,’ Lanta said quietly, ‘the babe is not to be harmed. It may be … useful,’ she added, unwilling to say too much even to him. ‘Its mother, though. Well, you may do whatever you please with the whore once she’s spawned. But for now, let her think herself free of us. He assures me he can find her wherever she goes. These will die to reassure me he tells the truth.’
Corvus sucked his teeth and then shrugged. ‘As you say, Blessed One, so shall it be.’ He pointed with his chin at the scene across the tent. ‘How long do you think until that one breaks?’
Lanta frowned. ‘He’s a Wolf. He won’t break.’
‘We might have said that about the Godblind once.’
‘Oh no, I think the Godblind was always going to break. When a man sees as much as he, his grasp on himself is never very secure. But these?’ She gestured at the prisoners and then dismissed them. ‘I think these will go screaming into death before forsaking the Flower-Whore. It amuses me to see the Godblind send them there.’
Even as she spoke, Seth’s thrashing lessened to twitches and gentle flailing. His feet kicked, kicked again, and he was still. The Godblind pulled him out of the water and let him thump to the ground. He beckoned to the next.
‘Blessed One,’ he said as he punched the woman in the face and pushed her into the barrel. ‘Everything comes to its climax, and yet everything is in flux. Rivil is a threat.’
Lanta felt Corvus tense at her side. ‘And why is that?’
‘Ambitious, petty, blinded by greed. Allied with you only to use your army, expected you to be defeated by the West Rank. You won, and now he doesn’t know what to do with you. You’re all supposed to be dead, you see. Expect treachery.’
‘Of course we expect treachery,’ Lanta snapped. ‘I said make me trust you, not tell me what I already know.’
‘Rivil may encourage you to spend your strength on the siege and then attack you, or he may allow you to take up residence on the Western Plain like he promised and then order the South Rank’s remaining Thousands to annihilate you. There are many possibilities, but there is one path we can take now to eliminate them.’
‘What path?’ Corvus asked.
‘Me.’
‘Explain,’ the king snapped, but Lanta could sense his interest. The issue of the Rilporian prince was a constant irritation.
‘Years ago, when I swore the blood oath, it was for vengeance on the killers of my wife and unborn child. Rivil and Galtas are those killers. They disguised themselves as Mireces and killed her, hoping to provoke a war. Let me fulfil my oath to the Red Gods. With Rivil dead, Skerris and the East Rank will be yours. Skerris’s faith is pure; he will put you on the throne rather than see all we have accomplished come to nothing. Rilpor will belong to Blood again and my Hazel will finally have justice.’
Interesting.
‘Is this what everything has been for?’ one of the chained Wolves shouted. ‘Everything you’ve done, everyone you’ve betrayed, has been for Hazel? You think she’d want all this?’
‘She was my wife,’ the Godblind said as he dragged the woman out of the water again and casually stabbed her in the belly, threw her down on Seth’s corpse. ‘I swore to bring her peace. I did not say what limit I would put on my efforts.’
‘Yes,’ Corvus breathed at Lanta. ‘This is perfect.’
She gave a tiny nod. ‘I will consult the gods. We are done here, Godblind. You should rest and eat if you truly wish to take this road. You, we have no need for these.’
She snapped her fingers and the guards’ knives glinted in the firelight. It was over in seconds, a quicker death than they deserved, but Lanta had no time to waste on such as them.
‘Hoth-Nagarre,’ Dom confirmed, wiping his hands. ‘Single combat in sight of the gods. No quarter and no retreat; the gods as witness. And my feet are on the Path.’