Dust of Dreams

reappeared, stood in the corridor’s gloom. ‘The Queen will take the palace. Her and Witchslayer. We don’t want t’be anywhere close to ’em. There’s power here, Pully. We can use it, we can feed on it—’
    ‘Risky. It ain’t as quiet as I’d like.’
    ‘It’s memories is all.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    Skwish rolled her eyes, approached. She halted directly in front of the crest. ‘Old symbols,’ she said. She pointed. ‘See that? That’s the Terondai, and there, that’s the sigil of Mother Dark herself.’
    ‘Empty throne! This ain’t a Royal House, is it?’
    ‘Not quite, but as good as. See that mark? The one in the centre. That’s the Consort—you never was interested in studying the Oldings. So, this house, it belonged to a man lover to some princess or maybe even the queen herself. See, that’s his name, the one there.’
    ‘What was it?’
    ‘Daraconus, something like that.’
    They heard someone in the courtyard and turned in time to see Captain Brevity climbing the steps.
    ‘What?’ demanded Pully, her harsh voice startling the Letherii.
    ‘Was looking for you,’ Brevity said, slightly out of breath.
    ‘What for?’ Skwish asked.
    ‘Visitors.’
    ‘From where?’
    ‘Best come with me, you two. There’s a woman. Tiste Andii.’
    ‘Bluerose?’
    ‘What? No. She was born here.’
    Pully and Skwish exchanged glances. And then Pully scowled.
Bad news. Competition. Rival.
‘But she’s not alone?’
    ‘Got a man with her. A Meckros.’
    ‘Where’d they come from, then? They ain’t always been here—we’d a sensed that. The city was empty—’
    ‘Up the road, Pully,’ said Brevity, ‘same as us.’
    ‘We got here first,’ Skwish growled.
    Brevity blinked. ‘It’s a big city, witch. Now, you coming?’
    ‘Where is she?’ Pully asked.
    ‘The temple.’
    Bad news. The worst.
‘Fine then,’ she snapped.
     
    Yedan Derryg had walked a thousand or more paces along the ethereal First Shore, but now at last he was returning. And in one hand, Yan Tovis saw, he held a sword. The weapon flashed green in the incandescent fall of liquid light. The blade was long as a man’s leg yet thinner than the width of a hand. A wire basket hilt shielded the grip. As he came up to where she stood, something lit his eyes.
    ‘A Hust sword, sister.’
    ‘And it’s healed.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘But how can a broken sword grow back?’
    ‘Quenched in dragon’s blood,’ he replied. ‘Hust weapons are immortal, immune to all decay. They can shear other blades in two.’ He held up the sword. ‘This is a five-blade sword—tested against five, cut through them all. Twilight, there is no higher calibre of sword than the one you see here. It was the possession of a Hustas, a Master of the House itself—only children of the Forge could own such weapons.’
    ‘And the woman threw it away.’
    ‘It is a mystery,’ Yedan Derryg said.
    ‘She was Gallan’s escort—’
    ‘Not that. The matter of how a five-blade Hust sword broke in the first place.’
    ‘Ah. I see your point.’
    He looked round. ‘Time dissolves here, this close to the Sea of Light. We have been away from our people too long—’
    ‘Not my fault,’ she said.
    ‘True. Mine. No matter. It is time to go back.’
    Yan Tovis sighed. ‘What am I to do?’ she asked. ‘Find the palace, sink down on to whatever throne I find?’
    The muscles of his jaws knotted beneath his beard and he glanced away. ‘We have things to organize,’ he eventually said. ‘Staff for the palace, officers for the guard. Work teams. Is the river rich with fish? If not, we are in trouble—our stores are depleted. Will crops grow here? Darkness seems to somehow feedthe trees and such, but even then, we face a hungry season before anything matures.’
    The list alone exhausted her.
    ‘Leave all that to me,’ Yedan said.
    ‘Indolence for the Queen—I will go mad with boredom.’
    ‘You must visit the temple again, sister. It is no longer empty. It must be sanctified once more.’
    ‘I am no priestess.’
    ‘Royal blood will suffice.’
    She shot him a look. ‘Indeed. How much?’
    Yedan shrugged. ‘Depends.’
    ‘On what?’
    ‘On how thirsty she is.’
    ‘If she drains me dry . . .’
    ‘The threat of boredom will prove unfounded.’
    The bastard was finding himself again. Wit dry as a dead oasis, withered palm leaves rustling like the laughter of locusts. Damned Hust sword and the illusion of coming home. Brother.