before me. It's eating me from the inside out. What must be done, must be done."
"Patience is a virtue often rewarded by fate, Thane. Your restraint has been commendable, I'm sure. Still, I told you the Hunt would take this burden from you, and so we will, if fortune permits us. The Hunt does not make empty promises."
"Does it not?" growled Kanin. He could think of more than one occasion when the Hunt Inkall had failed in its avowed intent--not least when the children of Kennet nan Lannis-Haig had slipped through its grasp in the Car Criagar--but now was not the time to pick fights with the one ally he had against Aeglyss. And there was as clear a sign as there could be of how misshapen everything had become: that he should look to the ranks of the Hunt for allies.
He sat heavily on a three-legged stool close by the fire. His limbs would not rest, though, and he was back on his feet in a moment.
"Does Goedellin concur in this?" he demanded. "Does the Lore give its backing?"
Cannek sighed expressively. "The Lore deals in fine judgements. The intricacies of the creed, teasing out the complexities of any case or cause: these are things we can leave to Goedellin. You and I, we can deal in more... direct explorations of fate's intent."
"No, then," said Kanin. "The Lore will not take your side. Our side."
"The Lore--or Goedellin, who is the Lore here and now--reserves its judgement," said Cannek, spreading his arms. "Let us leave it at that."
"Can't he see?" cried Kanin in exasperation. "Is he so slack-eyed he can't see an enemy when one stands before him?"
"It is possible to see too much, sometimes." Cannek said. "Too many possibilities, too many potential explanations. Success easily overturns old rules, old ways of thinking. Such are the victories we have gained, it is no surprise that some--many--see the glimmer of still greater, perhaps even final, glories on the horizon. For such a prize, they are willing to keep the most surprising company.
"But in any case, I do not think of Aeglyss as my enemy, Thane. I will try to kill him, but not out of malice. I simply mistrust the notion that he is fated to play so central a role in our affairs. I mistrust the notion that a halfbreed, and one whose adherence to the creed is at best questionable, should be the one to usher in the final triumph of our faith. Others find those notions more plausible than I. There is error, somewhere. My only intent is to remove any uncertainty over whose it is. Fate already knows the answer. Soon, we will too."
And that is where our ways must part, thought Kanin. The vengeful, unambiguous passion that burned in him was something Cannek would never share. The Inkallim still framed everything in terms of the faith, of fate. Once Kanin might have thought in the same patterns, but such habits had flaked away from his mind like dead skin, day by day.
The door creaked open, caught by the cold wind. A flurry of snowflakes tumbled in and Kanin saw, sitting outside, one of Cannek's great dark, jowly hounds. As if sensing an invitation, the beast rose and took a couple of heavy paces towards the light and warmth. Cannek rose and went to the door, giving an animal hiss. The dog sank back onto its haunches as the Inkallim closed it out.
"I will come to Hommen," Kanin said.
"Indeed," said Cannek, going to stand by the fire, taking its heat into his back. "Even uninvited, your presence could hardly be challenged. You are a Thane, after all."
"I want to see him die."
"I assumed you would."
"We'll leave in the morning."
"You do as you wish. I will be travelling through the night." The Inkallim scooped his knives up from the table and began strapping them back onto his arms. "It would be best if we did not arrive together. Our intimacies must remain secret, Thane, like any pair of illicit lovers."
Kanin grimaced. "It's not love we cultivate."
V
A host of crows came raucously in under the clouds, like black fish shoaling in the shallow sky. They
"Patience is a virtue often rewarded by fate, Thane. Your restraint has been commendable, I'm sure. Still, I told you the Hunt would take this burden from you, and so we will, if fortune permits us. The Hunt does not make empty promises."
"Does it not?" growled Kanin. He could think of more than one occasion when the Hunt Inkall had failed in its avowed intent--not least when the children of Kennet nan Lannis-Haig had slipped through its grasp in the Car Criagar--but now was not the time to pick fights with the one ally he had against Aeglyss. And there was as clear a sign as there could be of how misshapen everything had become: that he should look to the ranks of the Hunt for allies.
He sat heavily on a three-legged stool close by the fire. His limbs would not rest, though, and he was back on his feet in a moment.
"Does Goedellin concur in this?" he demanded. "Does the Lore give its backing?"
Cannek sighed expressively. "The Lore deals in fine judgements. The intricacies of the creed, teasing out the complexities of any case or cause: these are things we can leave to Goedellin. You and I, we can deal in more... direct explorations of fate's intent."
"No, then," said Kanin. "The Lore will not take your side. Our side."
"The Lore--or Goedellin, who is the Lore here and now--reserves its judgement," said Cannek, spreading his arms. "Let us leave it at that."
"Can't he see?" cried Kanin in exasperation. "Is he so slack-eyed he can't see an enemy when one stands before him?"
"It is possible to see too much, sometimes." Cannek said. "Too many possibilities, too many potential explanations. Success easily overturns old rules, old ways of thinking. Such are the victories we have gained, it is no surprise that some--many--see the glimmer of still greater, perhaps even final, glories on the horizon. For such a prize, they are willing to keep the most surprising company.
"But in any case, I do not think of Aeglyss as my enemy, Thane. I will try to kill him, but not out of malice. I simply mistrust the notion that he is fated to play so central a role in our affairs. I mistrust the notion that a halfbreed, and one whose adherence to the creed is at best questionable, should be the one to usher in the final triumph of our faith. Others find those notions more plausible than I. There is error, somewhere. My only intent is to remove any uncertainty over whose it is. Fate already knows the answer. Soon, we will too."
And that is where our ways must part, thought Kanin. The vengeful, unambiguous passion that burned in him was something Cannek would never share. The Inkallim still framed everything in terms of the faith, of fate. Once Kanin might have thought in the same patterns, but such habits had flaked away from his mind like dead skin, day by day.
The door creaked open, caught by the cold wind. A flurry of snowflakes tumbled in and Kanin saw, sitting outside, one of Cannek's great dark, jowly hounds. As if sensing an invitation, the beast rose and took a couple of heavy paces towards the light and warmth. Cannek rose and went to the door, giving an animal hiss. The dog sank back onto its haunches as the Inkallim closed it out.
"I will come to Hommen," Kanin said.
"Indeed," said Cannek, going to stand by the fire, taking its heat into his back. "Even uninvited, your presence could hardly be challenged. You are a Thane, after all."
"I want to see him die."
"I assumed you would."
"We'll leave in the morning."
"You do as you wish. I will be travelling through the night." The Inkallim scooped his knives up from the table and began strapping them back onto his arms. "It would be best if we did not arrive together. Our intimacies must remain secret, Thane, like any pair of illicit lovers."
Kanin grimaced. "It's not love we cultivate."
V
A host of crows came raucously in under the clouds, like black fish shoaling in the shallow sky. They
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