‘You fool, there is Silchas Ruin.’
‘I have an answer for him as well, sister. But I need your help. We must work together, and in so doing we will achieve the demise of both Menandore and Silchas Ruin. Do you trust me?’
Sheltatha Lore’s laugh was harsh. ‘Cast that word away, sister. It is meaningless. I demand vengeance. You have something to prove-to us all. Very well, we shall work together, and see what comes of it. Tell me your grand plan, then. Tell me how we shall crush Silchas Ruin who is without equal in this realm-’
‘You must conquer your fear of him,’ Sukul said, glancing away, studying the glade, noting how the shafts of sunlight had lengthened, and the ruined wall surrounding them now hunched like crumbling darkness. ‘He is not indomitable. Scabandari proved that well enough-’
‘Are you truly so stupid as to believe that?’ Sheltatha demanded, clambering free of the lean-to, straightening like some anthropomorphic tree. Her skin gleamed, polished and the colour of stained wood. ‘I shared the bastard’s barrow for a thousand eternities. I tasted his dreams, I sipped at the stream of his secretmost thoughts-he grew careless…’
Sukul scowled at her kin. ‘What are you saying?’
The terrible eyes fixed mockingly on her. ‘He stood on the field of battle. He stood, his back to Scabandari-whom he called Bloodeye and was that not hint enough? Stood, I tell you, and but waited for the knives.’
‘I do not believe you-that must be a lie, it must be!’
‘Why? Wounded, weaponless. Sensing the fast approach of this realm’s powers-powers that would not hesitate in destroying him and Bloodeye both. Destroying in the absolute sense-Silchas was in no condition to defend against them. Nor, he well knew, was Scabandari, for all that idiot’s pompous preening over the countless dead. So, join in Scabandari’s fate, or… escape7.’
‘Millennia within a barrow of an Azath-you call that an escape, Sheltatha?’
‘More than any of us-more even than Anomandaris,’ she said, her eyes suddenly veiled, ‘Silchas Ruin thinks… draconean. As cold, as calculating, as timeless. Abyss below, Sukul Ankhadu, you have no idea…’ A shudder took Sheltatha then and she turned away. ‘Be sure of your schemes, sister,’ she added in a guttural tone, ‘and, no matter how sure you make yourself, leave us a means of escape. For when we fail.’