in this way but not in that way. Perhaps this was freedom, but it left him feeling strangely . . . lost.
The two Dal Honese had built a new boat and paddled away – not back home, but to some unknown place, a place devoid of unblinking ghosts staring out from every wall.
Rocking sounds came from the wagon and he turned to see Kallor swinging down on the near side, pausing to adjust his cloak of chain, then walking until he was alongside Nimander.
'Interesting use of corpses,' he said.
'What use would that be?' Skintick asked with a glance back towards them.
'To frighten the crows? Not that any right-minded crow would look twice at those foul plants – they're not even native to this world, after all.'
Nimander saw Skintick's brows rise. 'They aren't?'
Kallor scratched at his beard and, since it seemed he wasn't in any hurry to reply, Skintick faced forward once more.
'Saemankelyk,' said Nimander. 'The Dying God . . . who will be found in Bastion.'
The grey-haired warrior grunted. 'Nothing changes.'
'Of course it changes,' Skintick retorted without turning round. 'It keeps getting worse.'
'That is an illusion,' Kallor replied. 'You Tiste Andii should know that. Your sense of things getting worse comes from growing older. You see more, and what you see wars with your memories of how things used to be.'
'Rubbish. Old farts like you say that because it suits you. You hope it freezes us in our tracks so we end up doing nothing, which means your precious status quo persists just that much longer – enough for you to live out your life in whatever comfort you think you've earned. You won't accept culpability for anything, so you tell us that nothing ever changes.'
'Ah, the fire of youth. Perhaps one day, pup, you'll be old – assuming your stupidity doesn't get you killed first – and I'll find you, somewhere. You'll be sitting on the stone steps of some abandoned temple or, worse, some dead king's glorious monument. Watching the young people rush by. And I'll settle down beside you and ask you: "What's changed, old man?" And you will squint, chew your gums for a time, then spit on to the cobbles shaking your head.'
'Plan on living for ever, Kallor?'
'Yes, I do.'
'What if your stupidity gets you killed?'
Kallor's grin was feral. 'It hasn't yet.'
Skintick glanced back again, eyes bright, and all at once he laughed. 'I am changing my mind about you.'
'The Dying God has stolen Clip's soul,' Nimander said. 'We're going to get it back.'
'Good luck.'
'I suppose we will need it.'
'I'm not the kind who helps, Nimander,' Kallor said. 'Even kin of Rake. Maybe,' he added, 'especially kin of Rake.'
'What makes you think—'
The man interrupted with a snort. 'I see him in all of you – excepting the empty one you call Clip. You are heading to Coral. Or you were, before this detour was forced upon you. Tell me, what do you imagine will happen when you find your glorious patron? Will he reach out one perfect hand to brush your brows, to bless the gift of your existence? Will you thank him for the privilege of being alive?'
'What do you know about it?' Nimander demanded, feeling the heat rise to flush his face.
'Anomander Rake is a genius at beginning things. It's finishing them he has trouble with.'
Ah, that stings of truth. Kallor, you have just prodded my own soul. A trait I inherited from him, then? That makes too much sense. 'So, when I speak to him of you, Kallor, he will know your name?'
'Were we acquaintances? Yes, we were. Did we delight in each other's company? You will have to ask him that one. Caladan Brood was simpler, easier to manage. Nothing but earth and stone. As for K'azz, well, I'll know more when I finally meet the bastard.'
'I do not know those names,' Nimander said. 'Caladan Brood. K'azz.'
'It's of no real significance. We were allies in a war or three, that is all. And perhaps one day we will be allies once more, who can say? When some vast enemy forces us once again into the same camp, all on the same side.' He seemed to think about that for a moment, then said, 'Nothing changes.'
'Are you then returning to Coral – where waits our father?'
'No. The dust I kicked up last time will need a few centuries to settle, I expect.' He was about to add something more when his attention was pulled away, and he stepped across Nimander's path –