helpful?' Seren Pedac snapped.
Udinaas bared bloodstained teeth. 'With the only alternative betrayal, Acquitor, then yes. Trull, I am . . . sorry.
And yet . . . Fear – I am proud of him. Proud to have known him.'
And she saw her beloved nod, then manage a sorrow-filled smile at the ex-slave. 'Thank you, Udinaas. Your journey – all of you – your journey, it must have been long. Difficult.' He glanced to her, then back to Udinaas. 'For remaining at my brother's side, I thank you both.'
Oh, Trull, may you never know the truth. Onrack the Broken opened his eyes to an ancient dream, and its conjuration twisted like a knife in his soul. Not oblivion, then. Such peace is denied me. Instead, my crimes return. To haunt.
And yet . . . Ulshun Pral—
An ancient dream, yes, and hovering just beyond, a far younger dream – one he had not even known to exist. The Ritual of Tellann had stolen from so many men of the Imass this reaching into the future, this creation of sons, daughters, this rooting of life into the soil that lived on.
Yes, that had indeed been a dream—
Kilava Onass suddenly frowned. 'You stare, Onrack, with all the intelligence of a bhederin. Have you lost your wits?'
Dreams did not berate, did they?
'Ah,' she then said, nodding, 'now I see you of old – I see the panic that ever fills a man's eyes, when all he longed for is suddenly within reach. But know this, I too have longed, and I too now feel . . . panic. To love in absence is to float on ever still waters. No sudden currents. No treacherous tides. No possibility of drowning. You and I, Onrack, have floated so for a very long time.'
He stared up at her – yes, he was lying on hard stone. In the cavern of the gates.
Then Kilava smiled, revealing those deadly canines. 'But I fared better, I think. For you gave me a gift, from that one night. You gave me Ulshun Pral. And when I found this . . . this illusion, I found for our son a home, a haven.'
'This realm . . . dies,' Onrack said. 'Are we all illusions now?'
Kilava shook her head, the luxuriant black hair shimmering. 'Gothos gave to our son the Finnest. As for the rest, well, your son has explained it to me. The white-skinned Tiste Andii, Silchas Ruin, delivered the seed of an Azath, a seed in the guise of a child. To accept the Finnest, to use its power to grow. Onrack, soon these gates will be sealed, each and all drawn into the House, into a squat, clumsy tower. And this realm – with an Azath House here, this realm no longer wanders, no longer fades. It is rooted, and so it will remain.'
Behind her, Ulshun Pral said, 'Gothos said Silchas Ruin would one day come for the Finnest. Gothos thought that was . . . funny. Jaghut,' he then said, 'are strange.'
Kilava Onass added, 'To win his freedom, Silchas Ruin bargained with an Azath, an Azath that was dying. And now he has done what was asked of him. And the Azath is reborn.'
'Then . . . we need not have fought.'
Kilava scowled. 'Never trust a Tiste Andii.' Her luminous eyes flickered away briefly. 'It seems there were other . . . issues.'
But Onrack was not ready to think of those. He continued staring up at Kilava Onass. 'You, then, that night in darkness.'
Her scowl deepened. 'Were you always this thick? I cannot remember – by the spirits, my panic worsens. Of course it was me. You bound me to stone, with your eyes and hand. With, Onrack, your love. Yours was a forbidden desire and it wounded so many. But not me. I knew only that I must give answer. I must let my heart speak.' She laid a hand on his chest. 'As yours now does. You are flesh and blood, Onrack. The Ritual has relinquished your soul. Tell me, what do you seek?'
He held his eyes on hers. 'I have found it,' he said.
Every bone in his body ached as he forced himself to his feet. At once his gaze was drawn to where he had last seen Trull Sengar; and a growing dread was swept from his mind upon seeing his friend.
Trull Sengar, you are as hard to kill as I am.
A moment later, he saw the tears on his friend's face, and it seemed there would