Dust of Dreams

why, they’d have died out long ago.
More to the point, if the rest of us hadn’t sneered in our idle witnessing of their pathetic efforts—if we’d wised up, in fact, one or all of us would have wiped them out long ago. Tiste Andii, Jaghut, K’Chain Che’Malle, Forkrul Assail. Gods, Tiste Edur, even. Scabandari, you slaughtered the wrong enemy. Even you, Anomander—you play with them as if they’re pets. But these pets will turn on you. Sooner or later.
    She knew she was avoiding the scaly beast gnawing at the roots of her mind. Urging her thoughts to wander away, away from the place where kindred blood still glistened. But it was no use. Words had been spoken. Violence had given answer,and the rise and fall of chests faded into eternal stillness. And that beast, well, it had the sharpest teeth.
    Sandalath sighed.
Kharkanas.
The city awaited her. Not so far away now, her ancient home, her own private crypt, its confines crammed solid with the worthless keepsakes of a young woman’s life.

Watch me chase my dreams
In the transit of dust

    Snorting, she swung round, retracing her path to where her husband slept. The demons—
Venath, who’d once been allies of the Jaghut. Who gave of their blood to the Trell—and what a fell mix that turned out to be
—the demons had all vanished into the hole they’d dug. Why had the damned things attached themselves to Withal? He said he’d found them on the island where he’d been imprisoned by the Crippled God. Which suggested that the Crippled God had summoned and bound the demons. But later, the Nachts had abetted Withal’s escape and seemed instead to be in league with Mael.
And now . . . they’re digging a hole.
    ‘Never mind,’ said Withal, rolling over and sitting up. ‘You’re worse than a mosquito in a room. If you’re in such a hurry, let’s just go until we get there. I can rest then.’
    ‘You’re exhausted.’
    He eyed her. ‘It ain’t the walking that’s exhausting me, beloved.’
    ‘You’d better explain that.’
    ‘I will. But not right now.’
    She saw the defiance in his eyes.
I could make him talk. But that look in his eyes . . . it’s cute.
‘Gather up your gear then, husband. And while you do, I will explain something to you. We are following the road that leads to the city where I was born. Now, that’s stressful enough. But it’s something I can handle. Not happily, mind you, but even so. No, there is something else.’
    He’d tied up his bedroll and had it tucked under an arm. ‘Go on.’
    ‘Imagine a pool of black water. Depthless, hidden within a cave where no air stirs and nothing drips. The pool’s surface has not known a single ripple in tens of thousands of years. You’ve come to kneel beside it—all your life—but what you see never changes.’
    ‘All right.’
    ‘I still see nothing to change that, Withal. But . . . somewhere far below the surface, in depths unimaginable . . .
something moves
.’
    ‘Sounds like we should be running the other way.’
    ‘You’re probably right, but I can’t.’
    ‘This old life of yours, Sand—you’ve said you were not a fighter—you knew nothing of weapons or warfare. So, what were you in this city home of yours?’
    ‘There were factions—a power struggle.’ She looked away, up the Road. ‘It went on for generations—yes, that may be hard to believe. Generations among the Tiste Andii. You’d think that after the centuries they’d be entrenched, andmaybe they were, for a time. Even a long time. But then everything changed—in my life, I knew nothing but turmoil. Alliances, betrayals, war pacts, treacheries. You cannot imagine how such things twisted our civilization, our culture.’
    ‘Sand.’
    ‘I was a hostage, Withal. Valued but expendable.’
    ‘But that’s a not a life! That’s an interruption in a life!’
    ‘Everything was breaking down.’
We were supposed to be sacrosanct. Precious.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she added. ‘It’s not a career I can pick up again, is it?’
    He was staring at her. ‘Would you? If you could?’
    ‘A ridiculous question.’ ‘
What’s broken cannot be mended. You broke us, but that is not all—see what you have done
.’
    ‘Sand.’
    ‘Of course not. Now, saddle up.’
     
    ‘But why is he eating his eyes?’
    ‘Once, long ago, my son, there was nothing but darkness. And that nothing, Orfantal, was everything.’
    ‘But why—’
    ‘He is old. He’s seen too much.’
    ‘He could have