Dust of Dreams

at him, frowned. ‘That’s a thought, husband. The Tiste Andii survivors used the humans, to begin with, to regain their strength—to stay alive on this unknown world—even to hide them from Edur hunting parties. And then, when at last they judged they were ready, and it was safe, they all left.’
    ‘But wouldn’t the Shake have then rejected them? Their stories? Their words? After all, they certainly didn’t worship the Tiste Andii, did they? They worshipped the shore—and you have to admit, that’s one strange religion they have. Praying to a strip of beach and whatnot.’
    ‘And that is what interests me more than those surviving Tiste Andii. And that is why I wish to speak with their elders, their witches and warlocks.’
    ‘Deadsmell described the horrid skeletons his squad and Sinn found on the north end of the island. Half reptilian, half human. Misbegotten—’
    ‘That were quickly killed, disposed of. The taint, Withal, of K’Chain Che’Malle. And so, before we Tiste even arrived, they lived in the shadow of the Che’Malle. And it was not in isolation. No, there was some form of contact, some kind of relationship. There must have been.’
    He thought about that, still uncertain as to where her thoughts were taking her. Why it had become so important that she uncover the secrets of the Shake. ‘Sandalath, why did you Tiste war against the K’Chain Che’Malle?’
    She looked startled. ‘Why? Because they were different.’
    ‘I see. And they fought against you in turn. Because you were different, or because you were invading their world?’
    She reached up and closed the shutters, blocking out the cityscape and sky beyond. The sudden gloom was like a shroud on their conversation. ‘I’m going out now,’ she said. ‘Start packing.’
     
    With delicate precision, Telorast nipped at the eyelid, clasping it and lifting it away from the eye. Curdle leaned in for a closer look, then pulled back, hind claws scrabbling to maintain their grip on the front of Banaschar’s tunic.
    ‘He’s piss drunk, all right. Snuffed candle. Doused fire, gutted lamp, the reeking dead.’
    Telorast released the lid, watched it sink back down. Banaschar sighed wetly, groaned and shifted in the chair, head lolling.
    The two skeletal creatures scrambled down and rendezvoused on the window sill on the other side of the small room. They tilted their heads closer together.
    ‘What now?’ Curdle whispered.
    ‘What kind of question is that? What now? What now? Have you lost your mind?’
    ‘Well, what now, Telorast?’
    ‘How should I know! But listen, we need to do something! That Errant—he’s . . . he’s—well, I hate him, is what! And worse, he’s using Banaschar, our very own ex-priest.’
    ‘Our pet.’
    ‘That’s right.
Our
pet—not his!’
    ‘We should kill him.’
    ‘Who? Banaschar or the Errant?’
    ‘If we kill Banaschar, then nobody has a pet. If we kill the Errant, then we can keep Banaschar all to ourselves.’
    ‘Right, Curdle,’ Telorast said, nodding, ‘but which one would make the Errant angrier?’
    ‘Good question. We need something to make him go mad, completely mad—that’s the best revenge for stealing our pet.’
    ‘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