The Crippled God

lie.’
    ‘Your father understood. I promised him that I would save you, and I have done so.’
    ‘Why did you bother?’
    ‘Because you are dangerous enough alone, Ryadd. In a Storm … no, I could not risk that.’
    ‘Then you intend to fight them after all!’
    ‘I will defend my freedom, Ryadd—’
    ‘What makes you think you can? With what you said of the Ancients—’
    ‘Because I am one, Ryadd. An Ancient.’
    Ryadd stared at the tall, white-skinned warrior. ‘Could you compel me, Silchas Ruin?’
    ‘I have no desire to even so much as attempt it, Ryadd. Chaos seduces – you have felt it. And soon you may witness the fullest expression of that curse. But I have learned to resist the seduction.’ He smiled suddenly, and in an ironic tone added, ‘We Tiste Andii are skilled at denying ourselves. We have had a long time to get it right, after all.’
    Ryadd drew his furs close about himself. His breath plumed in the bitter cold. He concentrated a moment, was answered by a billowing of the hearth’s flames behind him. Heat roiled past.
    Silchas glanced back at the sudden inferno. ‘You are indeed your mother’s son, Ryadd.’
    He shrugged. ‘I was tired of being chilled.’ He then looked across at Silchas. ‘Was she an Ancient Eleint?’
    ‘The first few generations of Soletaken count among the Ancients, yes. T’iam’s blood was at its purest then, but that purity is short-lived.’
    ‘Are there others like you, Silchas? In this world?’
    ‘Ancients?’ He hesitated, and then nodded. ‘A few.’
    ‘When the Storm arrives, what will they do?’
    ‘I don’t know. But we who were not trapped within Starvald Demelain all share our desire for independence, for our freedom.’
    ‘So they will fight, like you.’
    ‘Perhaps.’
    ‘Then why can I not fight beside you?’
    ‘If I must defend you while defending myself – well, it is likely that I would fail on both counts.’
    ‘But I am Menandore’s son—’
    ‘And formidable, yes, but you lack control. An Ancient will see you – will see all that you are – and it will take you, tearing out your mind and enslaving what remains.’
    ‘If you did the same – to me – imagine how powerful you would then be, Silchas.’
    ‘Now you know why dragons so often betray one another in the heat of battle. It is our fear that makes us strike at our allies – before they can strike at us. Even in the Storm, the Ancients will trust not one of their equals, and each will possess scores of lesser slaves, as protection against betrayal.’
    ‘It seems a terrible way to live.’
    ‘You don’t understand. It is not simply that we are the blood of chaos, it is that we are eager to boil. The Eleint revel in anarchy, intoppling regimes among the Towers, in unmitigated slaughter of the vanquished and the innocent. To see flames on the horizon, to see the enkar’l vultures descending upon a corpse-strewn plain – this charges our heart as does nothing else.’
    ‘The Storm will unleash all that? On this world?’
    Silchas Ruin nodded.
    ‘But who can stop them?’
    ‘My other swords are beside your pallet, Ryadd Eleis. They are honourable weapons, if somewhat irritating on occasion.’
    ‘ Who can stop them? ’
    ‘We’ll see.’
    ‘How long must I wait here?’
    Silchas Ruin met his eyes with a steady, reptilian stare. ‘Until the moment you realize that it’s time to leave. Be well, Ryadd. Perhaps we will meet again. When next you see your father, do tell him I did what I promised.’ He hesitated, and then added, ‘Tell him, too, that with Kettle, I believe now that I acted … hastily. And for that I am sorry.’
    ‘Is it Olar Ethil?’
    Silchas Ruin frowned. ‘What?’
    ‘Is she the one you’re going to kill, Silchas Ruin?’
    ‘Why would I do that?’
    ‘For what she said.’
    ‘She spoke the truth, Ryadd.’
    ‘She hurt you. On purpose.’
    He shrugged. ‘What of it? Only words, Ryadd. Only words.’
    The Tiste Andii leaned forward then, over the cliff’s edge, and slipped out of sight. A moment later he lifted back into view, a bone-white dragon, white as the snow below, where his winged shadow slipped in pursuit.
    Ryadd stood a moment longer, and then turned away from the cave mouth. The fire blazed until the swords started singing in the heat.
    ‘ Look at you, squatting in your own filth like that. What happened to Fenn’s great pride – wasn’t that his name? Fenn? That Teblor war-king? So he died, friend –