Gardens of the Moon
“You are not Hood.” The brother scowled.
Bones shifted under creaking skin. “The lord is busy.”
“Busy? We do not take kindly to insults,” the sister said.
The apparition cackled, then stopped abruptly. “How unfortunate. A mellifluous, deep-throated laugh would be more to my liking. Ah well, in answer: nor does my lord appreciate your interruption of this natural passage of a soul.”
“Murdered at the hand of a god,” the sister said. “That makes him fair game.”
The creature grunted, shuffled close to look down at Paran. The eye sockets glimmered faintly, as if old pearls hid within the shadows. “What Oponn,” it asked, as it studied Paran, “do you wish of my lord?”
“Nothing from me,” the brother said, turning away.
“Sister?”
“Even for the gods,” she replied, “death awaits, an uncertainty hiding deep within them.” She paused. “Make them uncertain.”
The creature cackled again, and again cut it short. “Reciprocity.”
“Of course,” the sister responded. “I'll look for another, a death premature. Meaningless, even.”
The apparition was silent, then the head creaked in a nod. “In this mortal's shadow, of course.”
“Agreed.”
“My shadow?” Paran asked. “What does that mean, precisely?”
“Much sorrow, alas,” the apparition said. “Someone close to you, shall walk through Death's Gates: in your place.”
“No. Take me instead, I beg of you.”
“Be quiet!” snapped the apparition. “Pathos makes me ill.”
The howl reverberated again, much closer this time.
“We'd best leave,” the brother said.
The apparition opened its jaws as if to laugh, then clacked them shut.
“No,” it muttered, “not again.” It hobbled back to the Gate, pausing once to turn back and wave.
The sister rolled her eyes.
“Time to leave,” the brother repeated uneasily.
“Yes, yes,” his sister said, eyeing Paran.
The captain sighed, looking away. “No final riddles, if you please.”
When he looked back Oponn was gone. Once again he tried to sit up.
Once again he failed.
A new presence arrived, filling the air with tension, a smell of threat.
Sighing, Paran craned his head around. He saw a pair of Hounds-massive hulking creatures, dark, tongues lolling as they sat, watching him. These are what killed the company in Itko Kan. These are the cursed, horrifying beasts. Both Hounds froze, heads hunching towards him, as if seeing the hatred in his eyes. Paran felt his heart go cold at their avid attention. He was slow to realize he had bared his teeth.
A stain of shadow separated the two Hounds, the stain vaguely manshaped and translucent. The shadow spoke. “The one Lorn sent. I would have thought someone of: ability. Though, it must be said, you died well.”
“Evidently not,” Paran said.
“Ah, yes,” the shadow said, “and so it falls to me to complete the task.
Busy hours, these.”
Paran thought of Oponn's conversation with Hood's servant.
Uncertainty. If a god fears anything: “The day you die, Shadowthrone,” he said quietly, “I will be waiting for you on the other side of that gate. With a smile. Gods can die, can't they?”
Something crackled in the portalway of the gate. Shadowthrone and the Hounds flinched.
Paran continued, wondering at his own courage, to bait these Ascendants. Always despised authority, didn't they? “Half-way between life and death-this promise costs me nothing, you see.”
“Liar, the only Warren that can touch you now is-”
“Death,” Paran said. “Of course,” he added, “someone else: interceded, and was certain to leave long before you and your too-loud Hounds arrived.”
The King of High House Shadow edged forward. “Who? What does it plan? Who opposes us?”
“Find your own answers, Shadowthrone. You do understand, don't you, that if you send me on my way now, your: opposition will seek other means? Knowing nothing of who their next tool is, how will you sniff out their next move? You'll be left darting at shadows.”
“Easier to follow you,” the god conceded. “I must speak with my companion-”
“As you like,” Paran interrupted. “I wish I could stand.”
The god rasped laughter. “If you stand, you walk. One way only. You have a reprieve-and if Hood comes to gather you to your feet, the guiding hand is his, not ours. Excellent. And if you live, so shall my shadow follow you.”