Reaper's Gate & Toll the Hounds - By Steven Erikson Page 0,54

But he does not hate. No, he feels pity.

Pity, even for me.

Seren Pedac heard the horses first, hoofs thumping at the walk up the forested trail. The night sky above the fort was strangely black, opaque, as if from smoke – yet there was no glow from flames. They had heard the concussion, the destruction of at least one stone wall, and Kettle had yelped with laughter, a chilling, grotesque sound. Then, distant screams and, all too quickly thereafter, naught but silence.

Silchas Ruin appeared, leading a dozen mounts, accompanied by sullen moaning from the scabbarded swords.

'And how many of my kin did you slay this time?' Fear Sengar asked.

'Only those foolish enough to oppose me. This pursuit,' he said, 'it does not belong to your brother. It is the Warlock King's. I believe we cannot doubt that he seeks what we seek. And now, Fear Sengar, the time has come to set our knives on the ground, the two of us. Perhaps Hannan Mosag's desires are a match to yours, but I assure you, such desires cannot be reconciled with mine.'

Seren Pedac felt a heaviness settle in the pit of her stomach. This had been a long time in coming, the one issue avoided again and again, ever excused to the demands of simple expediency. Fear Sengar could not win this battle – they all knew it. Did he intend to stand in Silchas Ruin's way? One more Tiste Edur to cut down? 'There is no compelling reason to broach this subject right now,' she said. 'Let's just get on these horses and ride.'

'No,' Fear Sengar said, eyes fixed on the Tiste Andii's. 'Let it be now. Silchas Ruin, in my heart I accept the truth of Scabandari's betrayal. You trusted him, and you suffered unimaginably in consequence. Yet how can we make reparation? We are not Soletaken. We are not ascendants. We are simply Tiste Edur, and so we fall like saplings before you and your swords. Tell me, how do we ease your thirst for vengeance?'

'You do not, nor is my killing your kin in any way an answer to my need. Fear Sengar, you spoke of reparation. Is this your desire?'

The Edur warrior was silent for a half-dozen heartbeats, then he said, 'Scabandari brought us to this world.' 'Yours was dying.'

'Yes.'

'You may not be aware of this,' Silchas Ruin continued, 'but Bloodeye was partly responsible for the sundering of Shadow. Nonetheless, of greater relevance, to me, are the betrayals that came before that particular crime. Betrayals against my own kin – my brother, Andarist – which set such grief upon his soul that he was driven mad.' He slowly cocked his head. 'Did you imagine me naive in fashioning an alliance with Scabandari Bloodeye?'

Udinaas barked a laugh. 'Naive enough to turn your back on him.'

Seren Pedac shut her eyes. Please, Indebted, just keep your mouth shut. Just this once.

'You speak truth, Udinaas,' Silchas Ruin replied after a moment. 'I was exhausted, careless. I did not imagine he would be so . . . public. Yet, in retrospect, the betrayal had to be absolute – and that included the slaughter of my followers.'

Fear Sengar said, 'You intended to betray Scabandari, only he acted first. A true alliance of equals, then.'

'I imagined you might see it that way,' the Tiste Andii replied. 'Understand me, Fear Sengar. I will not countenance freeing the soul of Scabandari Bloodeye. This world has enough reprehensible ascendants.'

'Without Father Shadow,' Fear said, 'I cannot free Rhulad from the chains of the Crippled God.'

'You could not, even with him.'

'I do not believe you, Silchas Ruin. Scabandari was your match, after all. And I do not think the Crippled God hunts you in earnest. If it is indeed Hannan Mosag behind this endless pursuit, then the ones he seeks are myself and Udinaas. Not you. It is, perhaps, even possible that the Warlock King knows nothing of you – of who you are, beyond the mysterious White Crow.'

'That does not appear to be the case, Fear Sengar.'

The statement seemed to rock the Tiste Edur.

Silchas Ruin continued, 'Scabandari Bloodeye's body was destroyed. Against me, now, he would be helpless. A soul without provenance is a vulnerable thing. Furthermore, it may be that his power is already being . . . used.'

'By whom?' Fear asked, almost whispering.

The Tiste Andii shrugged. 'It seems,' he said with something close to indifference, 'that your quest is without purpose. You cannot achieve what you seek. I will offer you this, Fear Sengar. The