Forge of Darkness

Heat flooded through Emral and she fought to control her tone. ‘Azathanai, your words of greeting are presumptuous.’



Thin brows arched. ‘I cannot be but what I am, High Priestess. I come to stir the waters, and for a time we shall all be blind. Will you now turn me away?’



Emral shook her head. ‘She wishes to see you, Azathanai.’



‘A desire I share. I have been called T’riss and this name I now take as my own. I do not know who I was before I was T’riss. I dwelt for a time in the Vitr. I am of the Azathanai, but I do not know what this means.’



‘If you are here,’ said Anomander, ‘seeking answers to questions, you may be disappointed.’



‘The Tiste view the Vitr as an enemy,’ said T’riss. ‘It is no such thing. It exists for itself. It is a sea of possibilities, of potential. It holds life in the manner that blood holds life.’



‘Did it create you?’ Anomander asked.



‘No.’



‘Yet it grows. It devours land — this indeed poses a threat to Kurald Galain.’



The woman shrugged. ‘The sea does not dream of you.’



Emral’s attention slid from the Azathanai’s unperturbed equanimity, past her to Warlock Resh. The man’s face was pale, drawn. ‘Warlock Resh, you have brought us this guest. She has awakened your ancient god. What would Mother Sheccanto have you say to the followers of Mother Dark?’



‘Nothing,’ he replied, as if choking out the word. ‘For the moment.’



‘I will see her now,’ said T’riss.



Emral stepped to one side. The Azathanai moved past her.



As Warlock Resh and Caplo fell in behind T’riss, Anomander’s hands snapped out, grasped Caplo by the man’s tunic, and threw him up against the wall. He held the monk pinned there, feet dangling.



Resh stumbled back in alarm, and then quickly shook his head and Emral saw the gleam of a knife blade half hidden in Caplo’s left hand — which vanished as quickly as it had appeared.



Ahead, T’riss did not so much as turn round, instead pushing open the heavy door and striding into the chamber. The door, left open, reflected flashes of yellow light, and Emral could feel the Azathanai’s power pushing through the darkness.



Anomander was speaking to Caplo. ‘No blood to be spilled within, do you understand me?’



‘Un-unnecessary, Lord,’ Caplo said in a gasp.



Releasing the man to sag against the wall, Anomander faced Warlock Resh. ‘Inform Sheccanto that we have no interest in sharing her panic. And should she ever again send her prized assassin into audience with Mother Dark, I will see his head spiked to the Citadel’s wall, with hers to follow.’



‘I will convey your message, Lord,’ Resh replied, but his tone was distracted.



From the doorway, the light suddenly vanished. A moment later, High Priestess Syntara staggered into view. Her skin was the hue of alabaster, her dark eyes like pools of ink. When Emral moved to assist her, Syntara threw up a staying hand, and her face twisted into a mask of spite and venom. ‘Do not touch me, you wretched hag! I chose my gift! I chose it!’



Pushing past the others, she rushed down the corridor.



Groaning, Warlock Resh set his back to the wall as would a man with too much drink in him. Eyes squeezing shut, he said, ‘She’s gone.’



Emral did not need him to elaborate. Bitter cold air was rushing into the corridor from the sanctum. The audience was at an end, and T’riss had vanished. The aftermath of the power unveiled in the last few moments made the air fiercely bitter, almost caustic.



Anomander faced the warlock. ‘She was banished?’



Resh’s eyes started open. ‘Does she give you nothing? This precious new goddess of yours?’



‘She may well give,’ Anomander replied. ‘But I do not ask.’



‘Not banished. Time twisted in the sanctum — in there, they might well have spoken for days. There is no way of knowing. She brought the blood — I felt it — she brought vitr into that chamber. Lord, I did not know — it must have been within her.’



Anomander half turned to the yawning doorway. ‘A weapon?’



‘No, Lord. A gift.’



‘Shake,’ Anomander commanded. ‘Await us here. High Priestess Emral, accompany me.’ He strode into the sanctum.



Emral followed.



As the door was shut behind them, Emral noticed at once that something had changed. The darkness remained, yet somehow lacked its oppressive weight, and before her eyes it seemed almost pellucid. In growing astonishment, she realized that she could make out details of the chamber.