Dust of Dreams

tasks he set upon me. Mappo addresses me in a Daru dialect, a trader’s cant. He does so to enable his companions to understand his words, as they are Genabackan, while he is not.’
    ‘What is he, then?’
    ‘Trell, Setoc—’
    ‘And the striped one—what manner of creature is he?’
    ‘Trake’s Mortal Sword—’
    ‘Meaning what?’
    ‘Ah. Trake is the Tiger of Summer, a foreign god. Gruntle is the god’s chosen mortal weapon.’
    The one Cartographer had named Gruntle now spoke, his eerie eyes fixed upon Setoc. She noted that he had not sheathed his swords, whilst the Trell had set down his mace.
    ‘Setoc,’ said Cartographer after Gruntle had finally finished, ‘the Mortal Sword names you Destriant of Fanderay and Togg, the Wolves of Winter. You are, in a sense, kin. Another servant of war. Yet, though Trake may view you and your Lady and Lord as mortal enemies, Gruntle does not. Indeed, he says, he holds his own god in no high esteem, nor is he pleased with . . . er, well, he calls it a curse. Accordingly, you are welcome and need not fear him. Conversely,’ Cartographer then added, ‘if you seek violence then he will oblige your wish.’
    Setoc found her heart was pounding hard and rapid in her chest. Her mouth was suddenly dry.
Destriant. Have I heard that word before? Did Toc so name me? Or was it someone else?
‘I am not interested in violence,’ she said.
    When Cartographer relayed her reply, Gruntle glanced once at the undeadwolf standing between the twins—Baaljagg’s bristled back was unmistakable—and then the Mortal Sword momentarily bared impressive fangs, before nodding once and sheathing his weapons. And then he froze, as the twins’ brother toddled forward, seemingly heading straight for Gruntle.
    ‘Klavklavklavklav!’
    Setoc saw the Trell start at that, turning to study the boy who now stood directly in front of Gruntle with arms outspread.
    ‘He wants Gruntle to pick him up,’ Setoc said.
    ‘I’m sure Gruntle can see that,’ said Cartographer. ‘A most fearless child. The word he seeks is Imass. I did not think such things even existed. Imass children, I mean.’
    Gruntle snatched up the boy, who yelped in delight, filling the night air with laughter.
    Setoc heard Baaljagg’s low growl and glanced over. Although the undead beast made no move, the black pits of its eyes were fixed—as much as could be determined—upon the Mortal Sword and the child he held. ‘Getting killed once wasn’t enough?’ she asked the giant wolf. ‘The pup needs no help.’
    The twins had edged closer to Setoc, who now dismounted. ‘It’s all right,’ she said to them.
    ‘Mother said cats were teeth and claws without brains,’ said Storii. She pointed at Gruntle. ‘He looks like his mother slept with a cat.’
    ‘Your brother isn’t afraid.’
    ‘Too stupid to be scared,’ said Stavi.
    ‘These ones,’ said Setoc, ‘fought off the sky demon, but they didn’t kill it, else we would have found the carcass. Would we be safer with or without them?’
    ‘I wish Toc was here.’
    ‘So do I, Storii.’
    ‘Where were they going, anyway? There’s nothing in the Wastelands.’
    At Storii’s question Setoc shrugged. ‘I can’t quite get an answer to that yet, but I will keep trying.’
    The two women had returned to tending their wounded companions. The tall young man remained off to one side, looking agitated. Setoc stepped closer to Cartographer. ‘What is wrong with that man?’
    ‘It is, I am told, ever a misjudgement to view a Bole of the Mott Irregulars with contempt. Amby is angry and that anger is slow to fade. His brother is sorely wounded, near death, in fact.’
    ‘Does he blame Gruntle or Mappo for that?’
    ‘Hardly. Oh, I gather that both of those you speak of fought valiantly against the sky demon—certainly, the Mortal Sword is made for such encounters. But neither Gruntle nor Mappo succeeded in driving the creature away. The Boles despise such things as demons and the like. And once awakened to anger, they prove deadly against such foes. Precious Thimble calls it a fever. But Master Quell suggested that the Boles themselves are the spawn of sorcery, perhaps a Jaghut creation gone awry. Would that explain the Boles’ extravagant hatred for Jaghut?Possibly. In any case, it was Amby and Jula Bole who sent the demon fleeing. But the residue of that fury remains in Amby, suggesting that he maintains his readiness should the demon be foolish enough to