The Crippled God

broken children.’
    This, she realized, would not be an easy man to serve. ‘He drew others to him – your father. Others who were not Tiste Andii. I remember, in his court, in Moon’s Spawn.’
    Nimander’s eyes narrowed.
    She hesitated, unsure, and then resumed. ‘Your kind are blind to many things. You need others close to you, Lord. Servants who are not Tiste Andii. I am not one of these … jesters you speak of. Nor, it seems, can I be your conscience, ugly as I am to your eyes—’
    He held up a hand. ‘Forgive me for that, I beg you. I sought to wound and so spoke an untruth, just to see it sting.’
    ‘I believe I stung you first, my lord.’
    He reached again for the wine, and then stood looking into the hearth’s flames. ‘Apsal’ara, Mistress of Thieves. Will you now abandon that life, to become an adviser to a Tiste Andii lord? All because my father, at the very end, showed you mercy?’
    ‘I never blamed him for what he did. I gave him no choice. He did not free me out of mercy, Nimander.’
    ‘Then why?’
    She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. But I mean to find out.’
    ‘And this pursuit – for an answer – has brought you here, to Black Coral. To … me.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And how long will you stand at my side, Apsal’ara, whilst I govern a city, sign writs, debate policies? Whilst I slowly rot in the shadow of a father I barely knew and a legacy I cannot hope to fill?’
    Her eyes widened. ‘Lord, that is not your fate.’
    He wheeled to her. ‘Really? Why not? Please, advise me.’
    She cocked her head a second time, studied the tall warrior with the bitter, helpless eyes. ‘For so long you Tiste Andii prayed for Mother Dark’s loving regard. For so long you yearned to be reborn to purpose, to life itself. He gave it all back to you. All of it. He did what he knew had to be done, for your sake. You, Nimander, and all the rest. And now you sit here, in his chair, in his city, among his children. And her holy breath, it embraces you all. Shall I give you what I possess of wisdom? Very well. Lord, even Mother Dark cannot hold her breath for ever.’
    ‘She does not—’
    ‘When a child is born it must cry.’
    ‘You—’
    ‘With its voice, it enters the world, and it must enter the world. Now,’ she crossed her arms, ‘will you continue hiding here in this city? I am the Mistress of Thieves, Lord. I know every path. I have walked them all. And I have seen what there is to be seen. If you and your people hide here, Lord, you will all die. And so will Mother Dark. Be her breath. Be cast out .’
    ‘But we are in this world , Apsal’ara!’
    ‘One world is not enough.’
    ‘Then what must we do?’
    ‘What your father wanted.’
    ‘And what is that?’
    She smiled. ‘Shall we find out?’
    ‘You have some nerve, Dragon Master.’
    A child shrieked from somewhere down the walkway.
    Without turning, Ganoes Paran sighed and said, ‘You’re frightening the young ones again.’
    ‘Not nearly enough.’ The iron-shod heel of a cane cracked hard on the stone. ‘Isn’t that always the way, hee hee!’
    ‘I don’t think I appreciate the new title you’re giving me, Shadowthrone.’
    A vague dark smear, the god moved up alongside Paran. The cane’s gleaming head swung its silver snarl out over the valley. ‘Master of the Deck of Dragons. Too much of a mouthful. It’s your … abuses. I so dislike unpredictable people.’ He giggled again. ‘People. Ascendants. Gods. Thick-skulled dogs. Children.’
    ‘Where is Cotillion, Shadowthrone?’
    ‘You should be tired of that question by now.’
    ‘I am tired of waiting for an answer.’
    ‘ Then stop asking it! ’ The god’s manic shriek echoed through the fortress, rattled wild along corridors and through hallways before echoing back to where they stood atop the wall.
    ‘That has certainly caught their attention,’ Paran observed, nodding to a distant barrow where two tall, almost skeletal figures now stood.
    Shadowthrone sniffed. ‘They see nothing.’ He hissed a laugh. ‘Blinded by justice.’
    Ganoes Paran scratched at his beard. ‘What do you want?’
    ‘Whence comes your faith?’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    The cane rapped and skittered on the stone. ‘You sit with the Hostin Aren, defying every imperial summons. And then you assault the Warrens with this .’ He suddenly cackled. ‘You should have seen the Emperor’s face! And the names he called you, my, even the court scribers cringed!’ He paused.