The Crippled God

now.’
    ‘Yes, Mother.’
    The captain settled into a crouch, facing Saddic. ‘Here,’ he said gruffly, ‘let me help with these toys.’
    Badalle stared, suddenly breathless, watching as Ruthan Gudd and Saddic filled the tattered bag. Something made Saddic look up then, his eyes meeting hers.
    ‘Badalle? What is it? What did he say?’
    She struggled to breathe, struggled to speak. Something fierce and wild rushed through her. She fell to her knees, snatched the bag from Saddic’s small hands. She spilled the objects back out and stared down at them in wonder.
    ‘Badalle?’
    The captain had leaned back, startled by the vehemence in her gesture, yet he said nothing.
    ‘Badalle?’
    ‘Saddic – these things – they’re toys .’
    He looked up at her, the colour leaving his face. Showing her, bared and raw, wretched astonishment. Then that shattered, and she could see that he was about to cry.
    I’m sorry. I’d … forgotten .
    She watched as Saddic’s attention returned to the collection of objects spilled out on the ground before him. He reached out as if to touch one – a bundle of twine and feathers – and then snatched back his hand. ‘Toys,’ he whispered. ‘They’re toys.’
    The captain climbed to his feet and backed away. His dark eyes met her gaze, and she saw the horror in them, and she understood. Yes, this is what we lost . ‘Thank you, Captain,’ she said quietly. ‘We will go back. Just … not yet. Please?’
    He nodded, and then led the other adults away, and though it was obvious that they were confused, that they had questions, not one of them said a word.
    Badalle moved to kneel across from Saddic. She stared down atthe array, weakened by a sudden feeling of helplessness. I – I don’t remember . Yet, when she reached down to pick up the pommel from a knife or sword, when she hesitated and looked over at Saddic, he simply nodded his invitation.
    Thirty paces away, hot but dry-skinned in the burgeoning heat, Ruthan Gudd stood watching, his only company the Adjunct. In a few terse, difficult words, he had explained his sense of what had just happened.
    Neither spoke for some time.
    It wasn’t fair. Of all the crimes he had seen in a life almost too long to comprehend … this one surpasses them all. The look on her face. On the boy’s when she told him. That pathetic collection, carried like a treasure, and is it not a treasure? Finally, he wiped a hand before his eyes and said, ‘We spoke of murdering gods, with a strange diffidence, almost a bluster – and what did they show us? Adjunct, what are we, when we murder innocence ?’
    Tavore’s sigh was ragged. ‘It will be answered.’
    He saw her take on the burden, in the settling of her shoulders, recognized the breathtaking courage in the way she lifted her head, the way she refused to look away from the scene – of two children, trying to remember what it is to play. Adjunct – do not do this. You cannot carry anything more —
    Hearing someone behind them, they both turned.
    A T’lan Imass. Ruthan Gudd grunted. ‘One of our deserters.’
    ‘Nom Kala,’ the apparition replied. ‘Now in the service of the Fallen One, Elder.’
    ‘What do you wish to tell me?’ Tavore asked.
    ‘Adjunct. You must march for another night – you cannot stop here. You cannot give up. One more night.’
    ‘I intend to march for as many nights as we can, Nom Kala.’
    She was silent, as if nonplussed.
    Ruthan Gudd cleared his throat. ‘You don’t want us to give up – we understand that, Nom Kala. We are the Fallen One’s last hope.’
    ‘Your soldiers fail.’
    ‘They’re not interested in worshipping the Crippled God,’ he said. ‘They don’t want to give their lives to a cause they don’t understand. This confusion and reluctance weakens their spirit.’
    ‘Yes, Elder. Thus, there must be one more night of marching.’
    ‘And then?’ the Adjunct demanded. ‘What salvation will find us by tomorrow’s dawn?’
    ‘The Seven of the Dying Fires shall endeavour to awaken Tellann,’ Nom Kala replied. ‘We have begun our preparations for a Ritual of Opening. Once we have created a gate we shall travel through, to aplace where there is fresh water. We shall fill the casks once more and return to you. But we need another day.’
    ‘There are but seven of you,’ Ruthan said. ‘In this desert, that is not enough.’
    ‘We shall succeed in this, Elder.’
    Ruthan cocked his head. ‘If you say so.’
    ‘I do.