‘Not far,’ he replied, ‘and none are any threat to you.’
‘Too bad.’
‘Nah’ruk-were they Iskar Jarak’s favour?’
‘They were.’
‘What were they after?’
‘Not “what”. Who. But ask nothing more of that-we have discussed the matter and can make no sense of it. The world has lost its simplicity.’
‘The world was never simple, Jaghut, and if you believe it was, you’re deluding yourself.’
‘What would you know of the ancient times?’
He shrugged. ‘I only know recent times, but why should the ancient ones be any different? Our memories lie. We call it nostalgia and smile. But every lie has a purpose. And that includes falsifying our sense of the past-’
‘And what purpose would that serve, Herald?’
He wiped clean his knife in the grasses. ‘You shouldn’t need to ask.’
‘But I do ask.’
‘We lie about our past to make peace with the present. If we accepted the truth of our history, we would find no peace-our consciences would not permit it. Nor would our rage.’
Varandas was clearly amused. ‘Are you consumed with anger, Herald? Do you see too clearly with that lonely eye? Strong emotions are ever a barrier to perception, and this must be true of you.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You failed to detect my mocking tone when I spoke of the world’s loss of simplicity.’
‘I must have lost its distinction in the midst of the irony suffusing everything else you said. How stupid of me. Now, I am done with this beast.’ He sheathed his knife and lifted the carcass to settle it across his shoulders. ‘I could wish you all luck in finding something to kill,’ he said, ‘but you don’t need it.’
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‘Not far,’ he replied, ‘and none are any threat to you.’
‘Too bad.’
‘Nah’ruk-were they Iskar Jarak’s favour?’
‘They were.’
‘What were they after?’
‘Not “what”. Who. But ask nothing more of that-we have discussed the matter and can make no sense of it. The world has lost its simplicity.’
‘The world was never simple, Jaghut, and if you believe it was, you’re deluding yourself.’
‘What would you know of the ancient times?’
He shrugged. ‘I only know recent times, but why should the ancient ones be any different? Our memories lie. We call it nostalgia and smile. But every lie has a purpose. And that includes falsifying our sense of the past-’
‘And what purpose would that serve, Herald?’
He wiped clean his knife in the grasses. ‘You shouldn’t need to ask.’
‘But I do ask.’
‘We lie about our past to make peace with the present. If we accepted the truth of our history, we would find no peace-our consciences would not permit it. Nor would our rage.’
Varandas was clearly amused. ‘Are you consumed with anger, Herald? Do you see too clearly with that lonely eye? Strong emotions are ever a barrier to perception, and this must be true of you.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You failed to detect my mocking tone when I spoke of the world’s loss of simplicity.’
‘I must have lost its distinction in the midst of the irony suffusing everything else you said. How stupid of me. Now, I am done with this beast.’ He sheathed his knife and lifted the carcass to settle it across his shoulders. ‘I could wish you all luck in finding something to kill,’ he said, ‘but you don’t need it.’
‘Do you think the T’lan Imass will be eager to challenge us, Herald?’
He levered the antelope on to the rump of his horse. The eyes, he saw, now swarmed with flies. Toc set a boot in the stirrup and, lifting wide with his leg to clear the carcass, lowered himself into the saddle. He gathered the reins. ‘I knew a T’lan Imass once,’ he said. ‘I taught him how to make jokes.’
‘He needed teaching?’
‘More like reminding, I think. Being un-alive for as long as he was will do that to the best of us, I suspect. In any case, I’m sure the T’lan Imass will find you very comforting, in all that dark armour and whatnot, even as they chop you to pieces. Unfortunately, and at the risk of deflating your bloated egos, they’re not here for you.’
‘Neither were the Nah’ruk. But,’ and Varandas cocked her helmed head, ‘what do you mean they will find us “comforting”?’
Toc studied her, and then scanned the others. Lifeless faces, so eager to laugh. Damned Jaghut. He shrugged, and then said, ‘Nostalgia.’
After the Herald and the lifeless antelope had ridden away on the lifeless horse, Varandas turned to her companions. ‘What think you, Haut?’
The thick-limbed warrior with the heavy voice shifted, armour clanking and shedding red dust, and then said, ‘I think, Captain, we need to make ourselves scarce.’
Suvalas snorted. ‘The Imass were pitiful-I doubt even un-living ones could cause us much trouble. Captain, let us find some of them and destroy them. I’d forgotten how much fun killing is.’
Varandas turned to one of her lieutenants. ‘Burrugast?’
‘A thought has occurred to me, Captain.’
She smiled. ‘Go on.’
‘If the T’lan Imass who waged war against the Jaghut were as pitiful as Suvalas suggests, why are there no Jaghut left?’
No one arrived at an answer. Moments passed.
‘We need to make ourselves scarce,’ Haut repeated. And then he laughed.
The others joined in. Even Suvalas.
Captain Varandas nodded. So many things were a delight, weren’t they? All these awkward emotions, such as humility, confusion and unease. To feel them again, to laugh at their inherent absurdity, mocking every survival instinct-as if she and her companions still lived. As if they still had something to lose. As if the past was worth recreating here in the present. ‘As if,’ she added mostly to herself, ‘old grudges were worth holding on to.’ She grunted, and then said, ‘We shall march east.’
‘Why east?’ Gedoran demanded.
‘Because I feel like it, lieutenant. Into the birth of the sun, the shadows on our trail, a new day ever ahead.’ She tilted back her head. ‘Hah hah hah hah hah!’