Dust of Dreams

preceded bread as the very first product of domesticated plants. Cleaner than water, and very nutritious. The first making of wine employed wild grapes. These two creations are elemental forces in the history of humanity. Others include such things as animal husbandry, the first tools of stone, bone and antler, the birth of music and dance and the telling of tales. Art, on stone walls and on skin. Crucial, profound moments one and all.’
    ‘So,’ she asked, ‘what’s happened to them?’
    ‘Mindful and respectful partaking of their aspects have given way to dissolute, careless excess. Respect for their gifts has vanished, Acquitor. The more sordid the use of those gifts, the more befouled become the gift-givers.’
    Ursto belched. ‘We don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Far worse if we wuz outlawed, becuz that’d make us evil and we don’t wanna be evil, do we, sweet porridge?’
    ‘We’s unber attack alla time,’ snarled Pinosel. ‘Here, les fill these cups. Elder?’
    ‘Half measure, please,’ said Bugg.
    ‘Excuse me,’ said Seren Pedac. ‘Ceda, you have just described these two drunks as the earliest gods of all. But Pinosel just called you “Elder”.’
    Ursto cackled. ‘Ceda? Mealyoats, y’hear that? Ceda!’ He reeled a step closer to Seren Pedac. ‘O round one, blessed Mahybe, we may be old, me and Pinosel, compared to the likes a you. But against this one ’ere, we’re just babies! Elder, yes, Elder, as in
Elder God
!’
    ‘Time to party!’ crowed Pinosel.
     
    Fiddler halted just within the entrance. And stared at the Letherii warrior standing near the huge table. ‘Adjunct, is this one a new invite?’
    ‘Excuse me, Sergeant?’
    He pointed. ‘The King’s Sword, Adjunct. Was he on your list?’
    ‘No. Nonetheless, he will stay.’
    Fiddler turned a bleak look on Bottle, but said nothing.
    Bottle scanned the group awaiting them, did a quick head count. ‘Who’s missing?’ he asked.
    ‘Banaschar,’ Lostara Yil said.
    ‘He is on his way,’ said the Adjunct.
    ‘Thirteen,’ muttered Fiddler. ‘Gods below.
Thirteen
.’
     
    Banaschar paused in the alley, lifted his gaze skyward. Faint seepage of light from various buildings and lantern-poled streets, but that did not reach high enough to devour the spray of stars. He so wanted to get out of this city. Find a hilltop in thecountryside, soft grass to lie on, wax tablet in his hands. The moon, when it showed, was troubling enough. But that new span of stars made him far more nervous, a swath like sword blades, faintly green, that had risen from the south to slash through the old familiar constellations of Reacher’s Span. He could not be certain, but he thought those swords were getting bigger. Coming closer.
    Thirteen in all—at least that was the number he could make out. Perhaps there were more, still too faint to burn through the city’s glow. He suspected the actual number was important. Significant.
    Back in Malaz City, the celestial swords would not even be visible, Banaschar surmised. Not yet, anyway.
    Swords in the sky, do you seek an earthly throat?
    He glanced over at the Errant. If anyone could answer that, it would be this one. This self-proclaimed Master of the Tiles. God of mischance, player of fates. A despicable creature. But no doubt powerful. ‘Something wrong?’ Banaschar asked, for the Errant’s face was ghostly white, slick with sweat.
    The one eye fixed his gaze for a moment and then slid away. ‘Your allies do not concern me,’ he said. ‘But another has come, and now awaits us.’
    ‘Who?’
    The Errant grimaced. ‘Change of plans. You go in ahead of me. I will await the full awakening of this Deck.’
    ‘We agreed you would simply stop it before it can begin. That was all.’
    ‘I cannot. Not now.’
    ‘You assured me there would be no violence this night.’
    ‘And that would have been true,’ the god replied.
    ‘But now someone stands in your way. You have been outmanoeuvred, Errant.’
    A flash of anger in the god’s lone eye. ‘Not for long.’
    ‘I will accept no innocent blood spilled—not my comrades’. Take down your enemy if you like, but no one else, do you understand me?’
    The Errant bared his teeth. ‘Then just keep them out of my way.’
    After a moment, Banaschar resumed his journey, emerging along one side of the building and then walking towards the entrance. Ten paces away he halted once more, for a final few mouthfuls of wine, before continuing on.
    But that’s