Deadhouse Landing

This direction of talk made Sail strangely uncomfortable. She took his arm. ‘You’ve gone on forays before.’

‘Yes. When I was younger. But now, with every passing year, these new captains become ever bolder. Well…’ He kissed her brow. ‘Will you travel on board the Insufferable in my stead?’

‘Of course I will.’

He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Sail. I rely upon you a great deal.’

And I will not let you down. You will see. ‘When do we go?’

‘In a few days. Lie in wait off the Vorian coast, yes?’

Sail nodded. Yes, that rugged mountainous coastline was a favourite hunting ground. ‘And what of the Napans? Surely they will make a play for any convoy.’

Mock held out an arm, inviting her to take it, and started for the corner tower. ‘Nap remains in disorder. It just may be Malaz’s turn to rule the coasts. Then we will have them, Sail. All recognize Nap as an island nation – why not Malaz? Imagine that, yes? Mock, King of Malaz?’

Sail squeezed his arm tight. Yes. And Tattersail, Queen of Malaz.

Imagine that.

*   *   *

The deputation arrived outside his open threshold at dawn. All five knelt to one knee in the dust of the Street of Temples, awaiting his attention.

He let them sweat through the morning while he sat cross-legged before the sarcophagus that was his chosen altar, and prayed to his god. A god few prayed to, and then only in extreme need or exigency. A god ignored by most yet escaped by none in the end. Hood. The Grey God. The Dark Taker. The god of death itself.

In time he raised his head, straightening his back and setting his palms on his knees. Nara, who had been waiting just to one side, offered a wood platter bearing a light meal of yogurt, bread, and thin beer.

Bowing his thanks, he backed away from the altar and ate, sword across his lap, sitting on the stone threshold of what was once – and remained for all practical purposes – a mausoleum.

Through all this the five still did not raise their cowled heads.

Brushing his hands clean, he stepped out on to the street, and adjusted his sword at his hip. ‘Yes?’

The foremost of the five inclined his hooded head even further, then straightened, head still bowed. Only the tip of an iron-grey beard showed beneath his hood. ‘Lord Dassem. We come seeking a boon.’

‘And you are?’

‘We are chosen deputies of these lands’ largest congregations of our lord the Grey Walker.’

‘What of it?’

‘Lord Dassem – a scourge has appeared in many of our cities. A sickness that spares none. Young, old. Poliel’s visitations are known to us, of course, but this one’s touch is death. Some name it Hood’s Wrath. And so we come begging that you intercede with our lord. How have we transgressed? What have we done to earn his disfavour?’

‘Why?’

The spokesman paused, glancing back to his fellows in obvious confusion. ‘Well … so that we may avert this scourge. Turn his displeasure aside from us. The populace is becoming fearful and angered in many cities. There have been reprisals. Killings of devotees.’

Dassem shook his head. ‘It is I who am angered that you should come to me. Angered and disappointed. You above all should know there is no turning aside Hood’s hand. There can be no propitiation. No bribe or sacrifice can be made that will save anyone. There is no cheating death. It comes at its appointed time – sooner or later.’

The spokesman fluttered his hands in apology. ‘Do not misunderstand. We seek no special favour for ourselves – we seek only for the safety of our flocks. Do you wish his worship to become repugnant in the eyes of so many? Blamed and denigrated? Outlawed, even?’

The rear delegate spoke up in a young man’s voice. ‘Everyone knows you came to Heng to challenge the Protectress’s ban on his worship! And you broke the ban! You brought his message to Heng. Why abandon it elsewhere?’

Dassem continued to shake his head. ‘I merely walked where my lord set my feet.’

‘You refuse us, then?’ the young delegate answered in rising anger.

The foremost lifted a hand for silence. ‘Control yourself, brother Jaim.’ He addressed Dassem. ‘Lord, are you saying you will not address our master on our behalf?’

Dassem let out a long slow breath. ‘I am saying it is pointless. What happens, must happen. There is no good or bad. Only what is necessary. Death. Ending. Destruction. Call it what you will. It is necessary in existence. Hood stands in that role because none other would. His is the face upon an inescapable truth of life. Some choose to hate him for it. They are foolish to do so.’

The spokesman bowed his cowled head once more. ‘Your interpretation of the faith is a most harsh one, Lord Dassem. Harsh and rigid and unforgiving. I wish you luck with it, but fear you may come to regret such an inhuman stance.’ He turned to his companions. ‘Come. We must return to our brothers and sisters and endure as best we might.’