‘Ask no question, the river shall answer.’

‘Question the river, find the answer.’

The Mad Pnets spent lifetimes waging profound wars iin their rendered prose. Achieving what? Why, the implosive obliteration of their tradition, Summarize that in two clauses.

‘I need you to make a journey.’

Spinnock Durav managed a smile. ‘When, Lord?’

Anomander Rake stretched out his legs until his boots were very nearly in the flames of the hearth. ‘Soon, I think. Tell me, how goes the game?’

He squinted at the fire. ‘Not well. Oh, I win each time. It’s just that my finest opponent does poorly of late. His mind is on other matters, unfortunately. I am not pressed, and this removes much of the pleasure.’

‘This would be Seerdomin.’

Spinnock glanced up, momentarily surprised. But of course, he told himself, he is the Son of Darkness, after all. They may well call him the Ghost King, but I doubt there is a single detail he does not know in Black Coral. They will not heed that until they make a terrible mistake and then it will be too late. ‘Seer-domin, yes. The Benighted.’

A faint smile from Anomander Rake. ‘Itkovian was a most extraordinary man. This newborn cult interests me, and I am not so sure it would have pleased him. He saw himself as a soldier, a failed one at that-the fall of Capustan devastated him.’ He paused for a moment, clearly remembering, then he said, ‘They were but a mercenary company, modest in complement-nothing like the Crimson Guard. I dare say even the Crimson Guard would have failed to hold Capustan.’

Spinnock Durav remained silent, attentive. He had been away during that time. Another journey on behalf of his Lord. Hunting a dragon, of all things. Conversa-tions like the one he’d found at the end of that quest were not worth repeating.

‘He could forgive everyone but himself.’

No wonder you liked him.

Anomander Rake sighed. ‘I cannot say how long you will need, Spinnock. As long, perhaps, as you can manage.’

As the significance of that statement settled into Spinnock Durav he felt an uncharacteristic flash of dismay. Angry at himself, he slowly settled his hands on the arms of the chair, fingers curling round the smooth wood, hoping he’d left nothing in his expression. This is what I do and will do. Until my end. She is young, so young-oh, there’s no point in thinking about… about any of that. About her at all. Was he able to keep the anguish from his eyes? What thoughts-doubts-rustled through his Lord now as he watched his old friend? Feeling de-feated, Spinnock Durav glanced over at Anomander Rake.

The ruler of Black Coral sat frowning at his smouldering boots.

So, how long has he been thus? ‘I have always… managed, Lord.’

‘Yes, you.have. I am curious. What so afflicts Seerdomin?’

‘A crisis of faith, I think.’ Life like Kef Tanar, this skipping across paths. He does it so well, this man whom I have never defeated in our tabletop wars, not in ten thousand years. But I can stay with you, Lord, at least this far. ‘He has ceased making his daily pilgrimage. Among those living out there, there have grown expectations. Which, it seems, he is unable to meet,’

‘You tread carefully, Spinnok Durav. That is unlike you.’

‘I do not possess all the details yet.’

‘But you shall.’

‘Eventually, yes.’

‘And then?’

Spinnock looked across at Rake. ‘I will do what needs doing.’

‘Best hurry, then.’

Ah, yes, I see now.

‘The Redeemer is a most helpless god,’ Anomander Rake said after a time. ‘Un-able to refuse, unable to give. A sea sponge swallowing the entire sea. Then the next one and the one after that. Can it simply go on for ever? But for Itkovian, I would think not.’

‘Is that a sort of faith, Lord?’

‘Perhaps it is. Is his ability to forgive truly endless? To take on the pain and guilt of others for all eternity? I admit, I have some serious difficulties with this cult’s root tenets-oh, as I said, I greatly admired Itkovian, the Shield Anvil of the Grey Swords. I even understand, to some extent, his gesture with the Kron T’lan Imass. As the Redeemer, however… I cannot but wonder at a god so willing to assume the crimes and moral flaws of its followers, while in turn demanding nothing-no expectation of a change in behaviour, no threat of punishment should they continue to transgress. Absolution-yes, I grasp the notion, but abso-lution is not the same as redemption, is it? The former is passive. The latter de-mands an effort, one with implicit sacrifice and hardship, one demanding all the higher qualities of what we call virtues.’