Dust of Dreams

lived free.’
    ‘Eternal punishment—who deserves that?’ Curdle demanded.
    Olar Ethil laughed. ‘I have walked with the T’lan Imass. Do not speak to me of eternal punishment.’
    Torrent was startled by that. He faced her, his mouth twisting. ‘You did that to them, bonecaster. And now you call it a punishment? Those Imass. What had they done to you, to punish them for all eternity?’
    She turned her back on him.
    He stared. ‘Spirits of the earth! It
was
punishment! Olar Ethil—that Ritual—
you were cursing them!
Look at you—’
    She spun round. ‘Yes! Look at me! Do I not choose to wear that curse? My own body, my own flesh! What more can I do—’
    ‘But wear your remorse?’ He studied her in horror. ‘You miserable, pathetic thing. What was it? Some offhand insult? A jilted love? Did your man sleep with some other woman? Why did you curse them for all eternity, Olar Ethil? Why?’
    ‘You don’t understand—’
    Telorast chose this moment to thrash loose from her grip, landing lightly on the ground then darting a half-dozen paces away, where Curdle scrambled to join her. Olar Ethil stared at the two creatures for a moment—or so it seemed.
    ‘Why don’t you let it go?’ Torrent asked. ‘Bonecaster. Let them all go.’
    ‘No! I have no choice in this—none! You mortals are such fools—you just don’t see it, you don’t see anything!’
    ‘What am I supposed to see?’ Torrent shouted back.
    ‘
I am trying to save your pathetic lives! All of you!
’
    He was silent for a long moment. Her gnarled hands had closed into fists. Then he said, ‘If to save us, Olar Ethil, means holding prisoner the souls of the T’lan Imass, then, as a pathetic mortal, I tell you: it’s too much. Free them. Leave us to die.’
    She snorted—but he could sense his words had shaken her—‘You would speak for all humanity, Torrent, last of the Awl? You, who dream only of an end?’
    ‘Make it meaningful and I will not complain.’
    ‘So wish we all,’ she said in a rasp.
    ‘Besides,’ Torrent said, ‘it’s not their fight. Not their responsibility. Not yours, either. You seek redemption, bonecaster? Find another way. One that doesn’t devour souls. One that doesn’t close chains about an entire people.’
    ‘You know so little,’ she said, her tone filled with contempt. ‘The T’lan Imass—
my
T’lan Imass—do you even know what they are?’
    ‘Not really. But I’ve put enough together. All your conversations with strangers, and when you speak to the darkness at night—thinking me asleep. You command an army, and they are not far away from us. They are trapped in this Ritual of yours, Olar Ethil. You treat them as slaves.’
    ‘I need them.’
    ‘They don’t need you, though, do they?’
    ‘I summoned them! Without me they would be dust and nothing more!’
    ‘Maybe that’s how they want it,’ he replied.
    ‘Not yet. Not yet!’
    Torrent gathered his reins. ‘You two,’ he called to the skeletons, ‘here’s
my
offer. No one, no matter how venal, deserves an eternity of punishment. I will seek a way to free your souls. In return, you guard my back.’
    Curdle hopped forward. ‘Against whom?’
    He glared across at Olar Ethil. ‘Her, for a start.’
    ‘We can do that!’ Telorast cried. ‘We’re stronger than she thinks!’
    Curdle pranced up alongside Torrent’s horse. ‘Where are we going, Master?’
    ‘Call me Torrent, and I am not your Master. I make no claim to own you. We are, it seems, riding to that tower.’
    ‘Rooted!’ crowed Telorast, ‘but which one is it? Curdle? Which one is it?’
    ‘How should I know? Never been here.’
    ‘Liar!’
    ‘So are you!’
    The bickering continued as Torrent urged his mount forward. A short time later he glanced back to see Olar Ethil trudging after him.
Unbreakable, and yet . . . broken. You sour old woman. Let it go.
     
    Kebralle Korish led a clan of four men and three women, all that remained of the B’ehn Aralack Orshayn T’lan Imass. Once, not long ago, the Copper Ashes Clan had numbered three thousand one hundred and sixteen. There were memories of living, and then there were the memories of death, such as remained to those of the Ritual. In her memories of death, the final battle with the Order of the Red Spires hung blazing in her mind, a frozen scream, the abrupt howl of annihilation. She had stood upon the edge of the Abyss, longing to join her fallen kin but held back by the duty of her title. She