Dust of Dreams

Instead, he turned away and an instant later he was gone.
    Did she know that her words would wound him? Why should they? Was he not proud of his glorious deed?
    Of course, Bakal had since failed to become the leader of the Barghast. Perhaps he had already seen the power slipping from his grasp, that night. So she followed him now. Had tethered herself to him, all with the intention of taking back her words, and yet not one step she took in pursuit found her any closer. Days now, nights of hovering like a ghost beyond the edge of his hearth-fire. She had witnessed the attempt on him by the first assassin, a Barahn warrior desperate for status—Strahl had cut him down five strides from Bakal. The next time it had been an arrow sent through the darkness, missing Bakal’s head by less than a hand’s-width. Strahl and three other warriors had rushed off after the archer but they had lost the would-be killer.
    Upon returning, Strahl had muttered about Estaral’s spectral presence—calling her the Reaper’s eyes, wondering if she stayed close in order to witness Bakal’s death. It seemed Strahl believed she hated Bakal for killing her husband. But the notion of hate had never even occurred to her, not for him, anyway.
    She wanted to speak with Bakal. She wanted to explain and if she could understand her own motivations from that night, why, she would do just that. Salve the wound, perhaps heal it completely. They shared something, the two of them, didn’t they? He must have understood, even if Strahl didn’t.
    But now they spoke of a battle with the Akrynnai, a final clash to decide who would rule this land. Maral Eb would lead the Barghast, warriors in their tens ofthousands. It had been one thing for the Akrynnai to strike clan camps—now at last all of the White Face Barghast were assembled and no tribe in the world could defeat such an army. Even so, Bakal might die in the battle—he would be commanding the Senan after all, and it was inconceivable to imagine Maral Eb being so arrogant as not to position the most powerful clan in the line’s centre. No, the Senan would form the jagged wedge and it would cut savage and deep.
    She should approach him soon, perhaps this very night.
If only to take back my words. He struck them down to save my life, after all. He said so. Even though I was the cause of so much—
    She had missed something, and now Bakal had sent Strahl away and was dropping back to her side. Suddenly her mouth was dry.
    ‘Estaral, I must ask of you a favour.’
    Something in his tone whispered darkness.
No more death. Please. If she had other lovers—
    ‘Hetan,’ he said under his breath. ‘You are among the women who guard her at night.’
    She blinked. ‘Not for much longer, Bakal,’ she said. ‘She is past the time of fleeing. There is nothing in her eyes. She is hobbled. Last night there were but two of us.’
    ‘And tonight there will be one.’
    ‘Perhaps not even that. Warriors will use her, likely through the night.’
    ‘Gods’ shit, I didn’t think of that!’
    ‘If you want her—’
    ‘I do not. Listen, with the sun’s fall, as warriors gather for their meals, can you be the one to feed her?’
    ‘The food just falls from her mouth,’ Estaral said. ‘We let the children do that—it entertains them, forcing it down as if she was a babe.’
    ‘Not tonight. Take it on yourself.’
    ‘Why?’
I want to speak with you. Take things back. I want to lie with you, Bakal, and take back so much more.
    He fixed his eyes upon her own, searching for something—she quickly glanced away, in case he discovered her thoughts. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Why are you women so eager to hobble another woman?’
    ‘I had no hand in that.’
    ‘That is not what I asked.’
    She had never before considered such a thing. It was what was done. It had always been so. ‘Women have claws.’
    ‘I know—I’ve seen it often enough. I’ve seen it in battle. But hobbling—that’s different. Isn’t it?’
    She refused to meet his eyes. ‘You don’t understand. I didn’t mean the claws of a warrior. I meant the claws we keep hidden, the ones we use only against other women.’
    ‘But why?’
    ‘You speak now in the way Onos Toolan did—all his questions about thethings we’ve always done. Was it not this that saw him killed, Bakal? He kept questioning things that he had no right to question.’
    She saw as he lifted his right hand. He seemed to be studying it.
    His