A promise, yet one she would not voice out loud, for it was too late for that. She could see as much in his now cold eyes, his now hardened face.
Better that he expect nothing, yes. So that, should 1 fail… But she could not finish that thought, not with every word to follow so brightly painted in her mind-with cowardice.
Fear Sengar set out, leaving her behind. She saw, as she followed, that he no longer held on to his sword. Indeed, he suddenly seemed looser, more relaxed, than she had ever seen him before.
She did not, at that moment, understand the significance of such a transformation. In a warrior. In a warrior who knew how to kill.
Perhaps he had always known where this journey would end. Perhaps that seemingly accidental visit the first time had been anything but, and Udinaas had been shown where his every decision in the interval would take him, as inevitable as the tide. And now, at last, here he had washed up, detritus in the silt-laden water.
Will I soon be dining on ranag calf? 1 think not.
The body of the female Imass was a piteous thing. Desiccated, limbs drawn up as tendons contracted. The wild masses of her hair had grown like roots from a dead tree, the nails of her stubby fingers like flattened talons the hue of tortoiseshell. The smudged garnets that were her eyes had sunk deep within their sockets, yet still seemed to stare balefully at the sky.
Yes, the Bonecaster. The witch who gave her soul to staunch the wound. So noble, this failed, useless sacrifice. No, woman, for you 1 will not weep. You should have found another way. You should have stayed alive, among your tribe, guiding them out from their dark cave of blissful ignorance.
‘The world beyond dies,’ said Clip, sounding very nearly pleased by the prospect. Rings sang out on the ends of the chain. One silver, one gold, spinning in blurs.
Silchas Ruin eyed his fellow Tiste Andii. ‘Clip, you remain blind to… necessity.’
A faint, derisive smile. ‘Hardly, O White Crow. Hardly.’
The albino warrior then turned to fix his uncanny red-rimmed eyes upon Udinaas. ‘Is she still with us?’
Kettle’s hand, tightened in the ex-slave’s, and it was all he could do to squeeze back in reassurance. ‘She gauged our location moments ago,’ Udinaas replied, earning a hiss from Clip. ‘But now, no.’
Silchas Ruin faced the gate. ‘She prepares for us, then. On the other side.’
Udinaas shrugged. ‘I imagine so.’
Seren Pedac stirred and asked, ‘Does that mean she holds the Finnest? Silchas? Udinaas?’
But Silchas Ruin shook his head. ‘No. That would not have been tolerated. Not by her sisters. Not by the powerful ascendants who saw it fashioned in the first place-’