anything. I had some long forgotten god of war track me down. Why? What meaning was I supposed to take from that?'
'You are a witch. You awaken spirits. They scent you as easily as you do them.'
'What of it?'
'Why?'
'Why what?' she demanded.
'Why, Samar Dev, did you choose to become a witch?'
'That's – oh, what difference does that make?'
He waited.
'I was . . . curious. Besides, once you see that the world is filled with forces – most of which few people ever see, or even think about – then how can you not want to explore? Tracing all the patterns, discovering the webs of existence – it's no different from building a mechanism, the pleasure in working things out.'
He grunted. 'So you were curious. Tell me, when you speak with spirits, when you summon them and they come to you without coercion – why do you think they do that? Because, like you, they are curious.'
She crossed her arms. 'You're saying I'm trying to find significance in something that was actually pretty much meaningless. The bear sniffed me out and came for a closer look.'
He shrugged. 'These things happen.'
'I'm not convinced.'
'Yes,' he smiled, 'you are truly of this world, Samar Dev.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
He turned back to Havok and stroked the beast's dusty neck. 'The Tiste Edur failed. They were not thorough enough. They left the cynicism in place, and thought that through the strength of their own honour, they could defeat it. But the cynicism made their honour a hollow thing.' He glanced back at her. 'What was once a strength became an affectation.'
She shook her head, as if baffled.
Traveller moved to join them, and there was something haggard in his face. Seeing this odd, inexplicable transformation, Karsa narrowed his gaze on the man for a moment. Then he casually looked away.
'Perhaps the bear came to warn you,' he said to Samar Dev.
'About what?'
'What else? War.'
'What war?'
The shout made Havok shift under his hand, and he reached up to grasp the beast's wiry mane. Calming the horse, he then vaulted on to its back. 'Why, the one to come, I would think.'
She glared across at Traveller, and seemed to note for the first time the change that had come over him.
Karsa watched her take a step closer to Traveller. 'What is it? What has happened? What war is he talking about?'
'We should get moving,' he said, and then he set out.
She might weep. She might scream. But she did neither, and Karsa nodded to himself and then reached down one arm. 'This torrent,' he muttered, 'belongs to him, not us. Ride it with me, witch – you surrender nothing of value.'
'I don't?'
'No.'
She hesitated, and then stepped up and grasped hold of his arm.
When she was settled in behind him, Karsa tilted to one side and twisted round slightly to grin at her. 'Don't lie. It feels better already, does it not?'
'Karsa – what has happened to Traveller?'
He collected the lone rein and faced forward once more. 'Shadows,' he said, 'are cruel.'
Ditch forced open what he thought of as an eye. His eye. Draconus stood above the blind Tiste Andii, Kadaspala, reaching down and dragging the squealing creature up with both hands round the man's scrawny neck.
'You damned fool! It won't work that way, don't you see that?'
Kadaspala could only choke in reply.
Draconus glowered for a moment longer, and then flung the man back down on to the heap of bodies.
Ditch managed a croaking laugh.
Turning to skewer Ditch with his glare, Draconus said, 'He sought to fashion a damned god here!'
'And it shall speak,' Ditch said, 'in my voice.'
'No, it shall not. Do not fall into this trap, Wizard. Nothing must be fashioned of this place—'
'What difference? We all are about to die. Let the god open its eyes. Blink once or twice, and then give voice . . .' he laughed again, 'the first cry also the last. Birth and death with nothing in between. Is there anything more tragic, Draconus? Anything at all?'
'Dragnipur,' said Draconus, 'is nobody's womb. Kadaspala, this was to be a cage. To keep Darkness in and Chaos out. One last, desperate barrier – the only gift we could offer. A gate that is denied its wandering must find a home, a refuge – a fortress, even one fashioned from flesh and bone. The pattern, Kadaspala, was meant to defy Chaos – two antithetical forces, as we discussed—'
'That will fail!' The blind Tiste Andii was twisting about at Draconus's feet, like an impaled worm.