Dust of Dreams

it any other way
!’
    ‘Nature insists on a balance—’
    ‘Nature is blind.’
    ‘Thus favouring the notion that justice too is blind.’
    ‘Blinkered, not blind. The whole notion is founded on a deceit: that truths are reducible—’
    ‘Wait!’ barked Keneb. ‘Wait—wait! You’re leaving me behind, both of you! Adjunct, are you saying that
justice
is our enemy? Making us what, the champions of injustice? How can justice be an enemy—how can you expect to wage war against it? How can a simple soldier cut down an idea?’ His chair rocked back as he suddenly rose. ‘Have you lost your minds? I don’t understand—’
    ‘Sit down, Fist!’
    Shocked by the order, he sank back, looking defeated, bewildered.
    Hood knew, Lostara Yil sympathized.
    ‘Kolanse,’ said Tavore. ‘According to Letherii writings, an isolated confederation of kingdoms. Nothing special, nothing particularly unique, barring a penchant for monotheism. For the past decade, suffering a terrible drought, sufficient to cripple the civilization.’ She paused. ‘High Mage?’
    Quick Ben rubbed vigorously at his face, and then said, ‘The Crippled God came down in pieces. Everyone knows that. Most of him, it’s said, fell on Korel, which is what gave that continent its other name: Fist. Other bits fell . . . elsewhere. Despite the damage done to Korel, that was not where the true heart of the god landed. No, it spun away from the rest of him. It found its very own continent . . .’
    ‘Kolanse,’ said Keneb. ‘It landed in Kolanse.’
    Tavore said, ‘I mentioned that penchant for monotheism—it is hardly surprising, given what must have been a most traumatic visitation by a god—the visitor who never went away.’
    ‘So,’ said Keneb through clenched teeth, ‘we are marching to where the gods are converging. Gods that intend to chain the Crippled God one final time. But we refuse to be anyone’s weapon. If that is so, then what in Hood’s name will we be doing there?’
    ‘I think,’ Quick Ben croaked, ‘we will have the answer to that when we get there.’
    Keneb groaned and slumped back down, burying his face in his hands.
    ‘Kolanse has been usurped,’ said Tavore. ‘Not in the name of the Crippled God, but in the name of justice. Justice of a most terrible kind.’
    Quick Ben said, ‘Ahkrast Korvalain.’
    Sinn jumped as if stung, then huddled down once more.
    Keneb’s hands dropped away, though the impressions of his fingertips remained, mottling his face. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
    ‘The Elder Warren, Fist,’ said the Adjunct, ‘of the Forkrul Assail.’
    ‘They are preparing the gate,’ Quick Ben said, ‘and for that, they need lots of blood. Lots.’
    Lostara finally spoke. She could not help it. She knew more about the cult of Shadow than anyone here, possibly excepting Quick Ben. ‘Adjunct, you say we march at the behest of no god. Yet, I suspect, Shadowthrone will be most pleased when we strike for Kolanse, when we set out to destroy that unholy gate.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Tavore said. ‘I take it we now comprehend High Mage Quick Ben’s angst. His fear that, somehow, we are playing into Shadowthrone’s hands.’
    I think we are.
    ‘Even when he was Emperor,’ said Keneb, ‘he learned to flinch from the sting of justice.’
    ‘The T’lan Imass occupation of Aren,’ said Blistig, nodding.
    Tavore flicked a glance at Blistig, and then said, ‘Though we may share an enemy it does not mean we are allies.’
    Adjunct, that is too brazen. Fiddler’s reading was anything but subtle.
But she was awestruck. By what Tavore had done here. Something blistered in this chamber now, touching like fire everyone present—even Blistig. Even that whelp of nightmare, Sinn. If a god showed its face in this chamber at this moment, six fists would vie to greet it.
    ‘What is the gate for?’ Lostara asked. ‘Adjunct? Do you know that gate’s purpose?’
    ‘The delivery of justice,’ Quick Ben offered in answer. ‘Or so one presumes.’
    ‘Justice against whom?’
    The High Mage shrugged. ‘Us? The gods? Kings and queens, priests, emperors and tyrants?’
    ‘The Crippled God?’
    Quick Ben’s grin was feral. ‘They’re sitting right on top of him.’
    ‘Then the gods might well stand back and let the Forkrul Assail do their work for them.’
    ‘Not likely—you can’t suck power from a dead god, can you?’
    ‘So, we could either find ourselves the weapon in the hands of the gods after all,