‘And then we kill him.’
‘Who?’
‘It doesn’t matter! Why are you being so thick? Oh, what a ridiculous question! Listen, Curdle, now we got ourselves a plan and that’s good. It’s a start. So let’s think some more. Vengeance against the Errant.’
‘The Elder God.’
‘Right.’
‘Who’s still around.’
‘Right.’
‘Stealing pets.’
‘Curdle-’
‘I’m just thinking out loud, that’s all!’
‘You call that thinking? No wonder we ended up torn to pieces and dead and worse than dead!’
‘Oh, and what are you thinking, then?’
‘I didn’t have any time to, since I had to answer all your questions!’
‘You always got an excuse, Telorast, did you know that? Always.’
‘And you’re it, Curdle, did you know that ?’
A voice croaked from the other side of the room, ‘What are you two whispering about over there?’
The two skeletons flinched. Then, tail lashing about, Telorast ducked a head in Banaschar’s direction. ‘Absolutely nothing, and that’s a fact. In fact, beloved pet, that’s the problem! Every time! It’s Curdle. She’s an idiot! She drives me mad! Drives you to drink, too, I bet.’
‘The Errant’s game is one of fate,’ Banaschar said, rubbing at his face. ‘He uses-abuses-proclivities, tendencies. He nudges, pushes over the edge.’ He blinked blearily at the two skeletons. ‘To take him down, you need to take advantage of that selfsame obsession. You need to set a trap.’
Telorast and Curdle hopped down from the sill and advanced on the seated man, tails flicking, heads low. ‘A trap,’ whispered Telorast. ‘That’s good. We thought you’d switched gods, that’s what we thought-’
‘Don’t tell him what we thought!’ Curdle hissed.
br />
‘And then we kill him.’
‘Who?’
‘It doesn’t matter! Why are you being so thick? Oh, what a ridiculous question! Listen, Curdle, now we got ourselves a plan and that’s good. It’s a start. So let’s think some more. Vengeance against the Errant.’
‘The Elder God.’
‘Right.’
‘Who’s still around.’
‘Right.’
‘Stealing pets.’
‘Curdle-’
‘I’m just thinking out loud, that’s all!’
‘You call that thinking? No wonder we ended up torn to pieces and dead and worse than dead!’
‘Oh, and what are you thinking, then?’
‘I didn’t have any time to, since I had to answer all your questions!’
‘You always got an excuse, Telorast, did you know that? Always.’
‘And you’re it, Curdle, did you know that ?’
A voice croaked from the other side of the room, ‘What are you two whispering about over there?’
The two skeletons flinched. Then, tail lashing about, Telorast ducked a head in Banaschar’s direction. ‘Absolutely nothing, and that’s a fact. In fact, beloved pet, that’s the problem! Every time! It’s Curdle. She’s an idiot! She drives me mad! Drives you to drink, too, I bet.’
‘The Errant’s game is one of fate,’ Banaschar said, rubbing at his face. ‘He uses-abuses-proclivities, tendencies. He nudges, pushes over the edge.’ He blinked blearily at the two skeletons. ‘To take him down, you need to take advantage of that selfsame obsession. You need to set a trap.’
Telorast and Curdle hopped down from the sill and advanced on the seated man, tails flicking, heads low. ‘A trap,’ whispered Telorast. ‘That’s good. We thought you’d switched gods, that’s what we thought-’
‘Don’t tell him what we thought!’ Curdle hissed.
‘It doesn’t matter now-he’s on our side! Weren’t you listening?’
‘The Errant wants all he once had,’ said Banaschar. ‘Temples, worshippers, domination. Power. To do that, he needs to take down the gods. The High Houses… all in ruins. Smouldering heaps. This coming war with the Crippled God presents him with his chance-a few nudges on the battlefield-who’d notice? He wants spilled blood, my friends, that’s what he wants.’
‘Who doesn’t?’ asked Curdle.
The two creatures had reached Banaschar’s scuffed boots and were now bobbing and fawning. ‘The chaos of battle,’ murmured Telorast, ‘yes, that would be ideal.’
‘For us,’ nodded Curdle.
‘Precisely. Our chance.’
‘To do what?’ Banaschar asked. ‘Find yourselves a couple of thrones?’ He snorted. Ignoring them as they prostrated themselves at his feet, he held up his hands and stared at them. ‘See this tremble, friends? What does it truly signify? I will tell you. I am the last living priest of D’rek. Why was I spared? I lost all the privileges of worship within a temple. I lost a secular game of influence and power, diminished in the eyes of my brothers and sisters. In the eyes of everyone, I imagine. But I never gave up worshipping my god.’ He squinted. ‘I should be dead. Was I simply forgotten? Has it taken longer than D’rek thought? To hunt us all down? When will my god find me?’ After a moment longer he lowered his hands on to his thighs. ‘I just… wait.’
‘Our pet’s disenchanted,’ whispered Telorast.
‘That’s bad,’ Curdle whispered back.
‘We need to find him a woman.’
‘Or a child to eat.’
‘They don’t eat children, Curdle.’
‘Well, some other kind of treat, then.’
‘A bottle!’
‘A bottle, yes, that’s good!’
They went hunting.
Banaschar waited.
Koryk trained his crossbow on the back of the scout’s helmed head. His finger edged down to the iron press.
The point of a knife hovered into view opposite his right eye. ‘I got orders,’ whispered Smiles, ‘to kill you if you kill anyone.’
He drew his finger back. ‘Like Hood you have. Besides, it might be an accident.’
‘Oh, I saw that for sure, Koryk. Your trigger finger just accidentally slipping down like that. And then, oh, in went my knife point-another accident. Tragedies! We’ll burn you on a pyre Seti style and that’s a promise.’
He lowered the crossbow and rolled on to his side, out of sight of the clumsy scout on the track below. ‘Right, that makes perfect sense, Smiles. A pyre for the people who live on the grasslands. We like our funerals to involve, why, everyone. We burn down whole villages and scorch the ground for leagues in every direction.’