Dust of Dreams

expression frozen.
    Bottle grunted a laugh. ‘She ain’t so shy any more, is she? Good. Now we’ll find out the real Atri-Ceda. Just like Brys wanted.’
    Behind a veil of swirling smoke, Aranict’s gaze narrowed on Quick Ben. She slowly returned the candle to its pool of melted wax on the hide floor.
Brys? Is that what all this is about?
    The High Mage shot Bottle a disdainful look. ‘It’s ignorance, not bravado.’
    ‘Bravado usually
is
ignorance,’ Bottle snapped back.
    ‘I’ll grant you that,’ Quick Ben conceded. ‘And you’re right,’ he added, sighing, ‘we could do with a little more of the unflappable around here.’
    Aranict snorted. ‘Unflappable? You’re not describing me.’
    ‘Maybe not,’ the High Mage replied, ‘but you manage a convincing pose. That candle you took from the circle of protection—you opened a pathway to Draconus. He sensed it immediately. And yet—’
    ‘He didn’t use it,’ Bottle said.
    ‘He didn’t use it.’
    ‘Subtle.’
    ‘Ha ha, Bottle, but you’re more right than you know. The point is, she made us address that so fiercely burning question, didn’t she?’
    ‘Unknowingly.’
    Quick Ben glanced up at her, curious, thoughtful.
    Aranict shrugged. ‘I needed the flame.’
    The reply seemed to please them both, in rather different ways. She decided to leave it at that. What point was there in explaining that she’d no idea what they’d been talking about. All those names Quick Ben mentioned—even Draconus—they meant nothing to her. Well, almost nothing.
Draconus. He is the one who arrived in darkness, who made a gate that stole half the sky, who holds in his hand a weapon of darkness and cold, of blackest ice.
    And Quick Ben means to stand in his path.
    Errant’s mangled nuts, I only joined because I’m lusting after Brys Beddict. Me and a thousand other women.
    Quick Ben said, ‘Atri-Ceda, your commander, Brys—’
    She started guiltily. Had he read her thoughts?
    ‘He died once, didn’t he?’
    ‘What? Yes, so it is said. I mean, yes, he did.’
    The High Mage nodded. ‘Best go see him, then—he may have need of you right now.’
    ‘Me? Why?’
    ‘Because Hood is gone,’ said Bottle.
    ‘What does that mean to Commander Beddict?’ she asked.
    She saw Bottle meet Quick Ben’s eyes, and then the soldier nodded and said, ‘The dead never quite come back all the way, Aranict. Not while there was a god of death. It may be that Brys is now . . . awakened. To everything he once was. He will have things to say to his Atri-Ceda.’
    ‘We’ll see you again,’ Quick Ben added. ‘Or not.’
    They dismiss me. Oh well.
She turned and exited the tent. Paused in the sultry darkness of the camp. Drew deep on her smoker, and then set out for the distant Letherii encampment.
    Brys wants me. What a lovely thought.
     
    Smiles threw herself down by the fire. ‘Stupid patrols,’ she said. ‘There’s no one out there. Those Akryn traders—all creaking old or snot-nosed runts.’ She glanced at the others sitting round the hearth. ‘See that village we passed yesterday? Looked half empty.’
    ‘No warriors,’ said Cuttle. ‘All off fighting the White Faces. The Akryn can’t maintain control of this Kryn Free Trade right now, which also explains all those D’ras traders coming up from the south.’
    Tarr grunted. ‘Heard from some outriders about a Barghast camp they came on—site of a big battle, and looks like the White Faces got bloodied. Might be they’re on the run just like the Akryn are saying.’
    ‘Hard to believe that,’ Cuttle countered. ‘I’ve fought Barghast and it’s no fun at all, and the White Faces are said to be the toughest of the lot.’
    Smiles unstrapped her helm and pulled it off. ‘Where’s Koryk then?’ she asked.
    ‘Wandered off,’ Tarr answered, tossing another dung chip on to the fire. ‘Again,’ he added.
    Smiles hissed. ‘That fever, it marked him. In the head.’
    ‘Just needs a good scrap,’ Cuttle ventured. ‘That’ll settle him right enough.’
    ‘Could be a long wait,’ Tarr said. ‘We’ve got weeks and weeks of travel ahead of us, through mostly empty territory. Aye, we’re covering ground awfully fast, but once we’re done with the territories of these plains tribes, it’ll be the Wastelands. No one can even agree how far across it is, or what’s on the other end.’ He shrugged. ‘An army’s deadliest enemy is boredom, and we’re under siege these