‘Fortunate he died before he achieved further mischief.’
Ilumene shook his head. ‘The damage is done. If the Menin conquer Narkang this season we may not have enough time.’
‘Kastan Styrax has many Skulls yet to track down.’
‘At the pace he’s going? He’ll regain Knowledge and Ruling when he cuts out Emin’s heart, and he’ll most likely find the journal sitting on the man’s desk. Smart money is on the vampires offering theirs, believing it worthwhile to believe what he would promise in return. That brings his total to nine.
‘When Venn arrives it could become ten without much strife. All we’re missing are Hunting and Dreams, both in Farlan hands and both on the list for next summer, if not earlier.’ His voice came more urgent, ‘Master, we planned for five years of long, drawn-out war, to give us time to prepare the way.’
Ruhen was silent for a time, staring out over the great buildings of Eight Towers and the districts beyond.
‘Your tune has changed since we last discussed this.’
‘I’ve had time to think since.’
‘And the new melody?’
‘What would it take to be ready by the end of next year?’ Ilumene sheathed the knife and leaned closer to Ruhen. ‘I know the goal, but not the exact method - if we were to gather the objects we need by the end of next summer, what would be lacking?’
‘A power-base,’ Ruhen replied, turning to face his scarred protector, ‘the foundation of worship.’
‘Exactly. Your preachers were to spend those five years of war drawing followers away from the Gods and to your own worship, thus weakening the Gods and building your own foundation. Gods and daemons and everything in between: the worship does Styrax no good while he is mortal, but you are not mortal, no matter what form you appear in.’
‘I thought you more intelligent than this,’ Ruhen said, his expression turning cold. ‘If I drew my strength from the worship of mortals, I would already have done so.’
Ilumene grinned. ‘Appearances can be deceiving,’ he said, before hurriedly continuing, ‘A God receives worship, a daemon thrives off fear and pain - but both are strengthened by the followers they possess, and I’d guess the same goes for everything in between. King’s Men aren’t just soldiers or spies; Emin insisted we knew more of the Land than the folklore of childhood. We spent too much time in the wilds to be ignorant of such things; I might’ve forgotten much, but I remember one thing the old witch who taught us used to say: “the only hierarchy more rigid that the Pantheon of the Gods is found in the chaos of the Dark Place”. No matter where they’re from, beings of magic can be subsumed by others, just as they can offer their power, no? A power base is the only way they can maintain their position.’
‘Our new friend?’
‘She ain’t strong enough yet, not for her needs. She was once an Aspect of Death, so how long ’til He rectifies that situation? She can’t hide forever, but maybe we can help her prepare.’
‘Offered the right covenant,’ Ruhen said, ‘perhaps, yes. She will be resistant to the very idea of a new master.’
Ilumene snorted. ‘Whatever her bluster, she’ll know it’s a straight choice.’
‘Dare we expect logic from a God?’
‘Fair point,’ Ilumene admitted, ‘but you’re known to be persuasive.’
Ruhen smiled at last, his small, neat teeth bright in the moonlight. ‘It will take Venn a few days to return. I have until then to decide,’ he said, but the expression on his face was enough for Ilumene. It would be done.
With that, the twilight reign crept closer.
Through a break in the canopy Venn looked up at the early evening sky. Long trails of cloud reached over the paling sky to where the sun was just about to set. As his custom since leaving the snow-bound home of the Harlequin clans, Venn crossed his hands over his heart and inclined his head towards the orange ball at the horizon.
He’d seen this done in Mantil, throughout the pirate havens and fishing ports of that island. It was a gesture of deference, echoing Azaer’s small contribution to the Elven language, and he had adopted it himself to greet twilight.
I have seen how flawed my people are, Venn thought with a smile, how enslaved they have been to telling one particular notion of history and refuting Aryn Bwr’s heretical truths . . . And yet still I am drawn to tradition with all the rest of