He turned away. ‘I have no expectations, Seren, only fears. We should resume the journey.’
She glanced over at the Nerek. They sat or squatted near the wagons, steam rising from their backs. Their expressions were slack, strangely indifferent to the dead kin they had left behind in his makeshift grave of rutted mud, rocks and roots. How much could be stripped from a people before they began stripping away themselves? The steep slope of dissolution began with a skid, only to become a headlong run.
The Letherii believed in cold-hearted truths. Momentum was an avalanche and no-one was privileged with the choice of stepping aside. The division between life and death was measured in incremental jostling for position amidst all-devouring progress. No-one could afford compassion. Accordingly, none expected it from others either.
We live in an inimical time. But then, they are all inimical times .
It began to rain once more.
Far to the south, beyond the mountains they had just crossed, the downfall of the Tiste Edur was being plotted. And, she suspected, Hull Beddict’s life had been made forfeit. They could not afford the risk he presented, the treason he had as much as promised. The irony existed in their conjoined desires. Both sought war, after all. It was only the face of victory that was different.
But Hull possessed little of the necessary acumen to play this particular game and stay alive.
And she had begun to wonder if she would make any effort to save him.
A shout from Buruk’s wagon. The Nerek climbed wearily to their feet. Seren drew her cloak tighter about her shoulders, eyes narrowed on the path ahead. She sensed Hull coming to her side, but did not look over.
‘What temple was it you were schooled at?’
She snorted, then shook her head. ‘Thurlas, the Shrouded Sisters of the Empty Throne.’
‘Just opposite Small Canal. I remember it. What sort of child were you, Seren?’
‘Clearly, you have an image in your mind.’
She caught his nod in her periphery, and he said, ‘Zealous. Proper to excess. Earnest.’
‘There are ledgers, recording the names of notable students. You will find mine in them, again and again. For example, I hold title to the most punishments inflicted in a year. Two hundred and seventy-one. I was more familiar with the Unlit Cell than my own room. I was also accused of seducing a visiting priest. And before you ask, yes, I was guilty. But the priest swore otherwise, to protect me. He was excommunicated. I later heard he killed himself. Had I still possessed any innocence, I would have lost it then.’
He came round to stand before her, as the first wagon was pulled past by the Nerek. She was forced to look at him. Hesitated, then offered him a wry smile. ‘Have I shocked you, Hull Beddict?’
‘The ice has broken beneath me.’
A flash of anger, then she realized the self-mockery in his confession. ‘We are not born innocent, simply unmeasured.’
‘And, presumably, immeasurable as well.’
‘For a few years at least. Until the outside is inflicted upon the inside, then the brutal war begins. We are not born to compassion either – large wide eyes and sweet demeanour notwithstanding.’
‘And you came to recognize your war early.’
Seren shrugged. ‘My enemy was not authority, although perhaps it seemed so. It was childhood itself. The lowered expectations of adults, the eagerness to forgive . It sickened me-’
‘Because it was unjust.’
‘A child’s sense of injustice is ever self-serving, Hull. I couldn’t fool myself with that indignation. Why are we speaking of this?’
‘Questions I forgot to ask. Back then. I think I was a child myself in those days. All inside, no outside.’
Her brows rose, but she said nothing.
Hull understood anyway. ‘You might be right. In some things, that is. But not when it comes to the Edur.’
The second wagon trundled past. Seren studied the man before her ‘Are you so certain of that?’ she asked. ‘Because I see you driven by your own needs. The Edur are the sword but the hand is your own, Hull. Where is the compassion in that?’
‘You have it wrong, Seren. I intend to be the sword.’
The chill in her bones deepened. ‘In what way?’
But he shook his head. ‘I cannot trust you, Seren. Like everyone else you shall have to wait. One thing, however. Do not stand in my way. Please.’
I cannot trust you . Words that cut to her soul. Then again, the issue of trust stood on both sides of the path, didn’t it?
The third wagon halted beside them. The curtain in the door window was dragged aside and Buruk’s deathly face peered out. ‘And this is guidance? Who blazes the trail? Are we doomed now to wander lost? Don’t tell me you have become lovers once more! Seren, you look positively besieged . Such is the curse of love, oh, my heart weeps for you!’