but he did nothing and so the barbarians came to take all we had.”
“Not for long,” Chien said. “The Merchant King was deposed and a great army raised by his successor, the grandfather of Lian Sha himself. The bones of every single barbarian who invaded these lands now lie beneath the Black Cliffs. So it will be if any come again.”
The old woman sprinkled salt in her bowl and handed it to Ellese. She had already quickly downed one bowl and seemed grateful for a second. The woman gave her a fond smile, which faded as she turned to Chien. “Then you are also a fool to think anything in this world is eternal.”
She took up Ellese’s empty bowl and, moving with a disconcerting speed, hurled it at Chien. The old woman’s speed, however, was mirrored by her target, who jerked her head aside, the bowl missing by a whisker to shatter on the wall behind.
“All that is made can be unmade,” the old woman told Chien with a bow that didn’t match the evident disrespect in her eyes. “As you would do well to remember, esteemed sister.”
“Great-grandmother earned her name well,” Crab told Chien as the old woman returned to her pots. “Quick as a cobra with a temperament to match. My father said he lost count of the bodies she sent to the bottom of the lake when we were still fighting the Silver Thread for control of the water.”
Chien kept her face free of emotion but Vaelin glimpsed the small tic of fury in her cheek before she shrugged and returned to her own meal. “When do we leave?”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Once the moon had reached its peak Crab’s men lit a fireboat five miles to the west and set it loose upon the lake.
“That should draw the gaze of any Dien-Ven on the water tonight,” the boatman said from the tiller. Vaelin and Alum had taken up the oars to propel the boat from the shadowed confines of the mill. Once they had reached clear water, a sail constructed of wicker and bamboo was raised and a stiff southerly breeze carried the craft towards the heart of the lake.
“Deeper the water the better,” Crab said. “Smugglers keep close to shore, easier to beach and run for it if the soldiers show up.” He turned to Vaelin as he and Alum shipped their oars, raising his voice once more and pillowing his hands under his cheek. “You sleep now. Need rest for tomorrow. Understanding?”
“Rest,” Vaelin repeated with a good-natured nod. “Yes.”
“Good fellow.” Crab patted him on the shoulder and returned to the tiller.
“Don’t be offended,” Chien said, catching sight of Ellese’s sour expression. “It’s commonly believed that foreigners possess brains only two-thirds the size of those born to these lands.”
“And do you share this belief?” Vaelin enquired.
“Oh no. I’d say . . .” She paused for a moment’s consideration. “Four-sixths, at least.” With that she disappeared into the roofed mid-deck of the boat.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Vaelin dreamt of the Battle of Alltor that night, something he hadn’t done for a long time. The images conjured by his slumbering mind failed to match his true memory of the event but that was ever the way with dreams. This time the Volarians failed to react when he charged towards them, standing in their orderly ranks as unmoving and indifferent as any statue. They made no effort to fight as he cut them down, regarding him with impassive faces rendered pale as alabaster in the dim light seeping through the smoke rising from the ruined city. Free Swords, Varitai and Kuritai all fell before him like wheat before a scythe, not even voicing a scream as blood gushed from wounds and stumps. This time Flame, the mount that had carried him all the way from the Reaches, didn’t fall to an arrow. Instead the warhorse bore him through the carnage he carved through the silent ranks and into the city.
He expected to find Reva in the square, overlarge sword in hand as she greeted him with a smile, but today someone else was waiting for him. A slim, diminutive woman standing amidst a carpet of corpses, her black hair twisting like a wraith in the wind. As he picked his way through the surrounding bodies, he saw each bore a familiar face. Here was Dentos, an arrow jutting from his chest, lips drawn back from his teeth in a grimace of death. Here was Barkus, head severed from