The Crippled God

to pour himself a goblet. He poured a second goblet and gestured to it.
    Helm now unstrapped and under one arm, Erekala shook his head and said, ‘Misgivings, Pure? Is not the cause just?’
    ‘Oh indeed, Erekala, there will be justice in our tide of retribution. But there will also be crime. We do not spare the children. We do not ask them to remake their world, to fashion a new place of humility, respect and compassion. We give them no chance to do better.’
    ‘Pure,’ said Erekala, ‘as the teachings of the Wolves make plain, each and every generation is given a new chance. And each time, they but perpetuate the crimes of their fathers and mothers. “From the blow that strikes the innocent child to the one that lays waste to a forest, while the magnitude of the gesture may vary, the desire behind the hand does not.” So the Wild would say, if it but had the words to speak.’
    Serenity’s eyes glittered in the shadows. ‘And you see no presumption?’
    Erekala cocked his head. ‘Pure, the presumptions of the Perish Grey Helms are unending. Yet if we refuse or are unable to comprehend the suffering of the innocent – be it babe or beast – what do our words replace, if not all that we would not hear, would not countenance, lest it force us to change our ways, which we will never do. If we would speak for the Wild, we must begin with the voice of human conscience. And when conscience is not heeded, or is discarded, then what choice remains to us?’
    ‘How clearly you enjoy such debate, Erekala. You remind me of betterdays … peaceful days. Very well, I will consider what the world would be like, for all within it, if conscience was more than just a whispering voice. If, indeed, it could raise a hand in anger. And, when even a sound beating is not enough, it might then close that hand about a throat and take the life from the transgressor.’
    ‘It is our greatest presumption, Pure,’ said Erekala, ‘that we be the hand of conscience.’
    ‘Holding a sword.’
    ‘And finally driven to use it, yes.’
    Serenity drained his goblet and replaced it with the other one. ‘Yet your fellow humans – your victims – could not but see you as evil, as terrible murderers of the innocent – in fact, the very notion of guilt or innocence would be without relevance, in their eyes.’
    ‘If we are to be evil, then we but balance the evil that opposes us.’
    ‘Seeking … negation.’ And Serenity smiled.
    ‘Sister Reverence made us kneel, Pure. But we are not so naïve as to have come to you expecting anything but the opportunity to give our lives in the name of that which we believe to be right. You will use us, until none of us are left. She did not need to compel the Perish.’
    ‘I believe you, Erekala. And I find in you and your people much to admire. I will regret sending you all to your deaths. But, as you might well understand, the Wild poses a threat even to us Forkrul Assail, should it truly be unleashed upon the world.’
    ‘Pure, with my own Thrones of War I have carried your most dangerous enemy to this land. I know well what is coming. It is my judgement – and I am confident that the Mortal Sword and the Shield Anvil will concur – it is my judgement, Pure, that in the war now begun we will all lose. And in our losing, the Wild shall win.’
    Serenity was silent for a time, studying the Perish commander, the unearthly eyes unwavering. Then, a small catch of breath. ‘Do I err in understanding you, Erekala? You crossed the field of battle … to help even the scales ?’
    ‘By all means, Pure, send us to our deaths. Upon the other side, we shall await you.’
    Serenity advanced a step. ‘I know well these Malazans. And I will welcome them!’
    ‘The Mortal Sword Krughava stood before the Adjunct Tavore and placed her sword in the Adjunct’s hands. Before her , Pure, we did not kneel.’
    ‘Sister Reverence forced you to kneel, you pompous fool!’
    Erekala cocked his head. ‘Did she?’
    ‘You resisted!’
    ‘Pure, why would we resist? You forget, we came to you, not the other way round.’
    Serenity turned, faced the back wall again. His head tilted as he emptied the goblet of wine. ‘Tomorrow we double our pace, Commander. We will hunt down the foreign army – the murderers of Sister Belie. And your Perish will fling themselves into the battle, and fight and not yield. If it takes the life of every single one of you, the enemy shall be destroyed.’
    ‘Precisely,’