Chapters (37)
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- DRAMATIS PERSONAE
- PROLOGUE
- BOOK ONE - RARAKU
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- BOOK TWO - WHIRLWIND
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- BOOK THREE – CHAIN OF DOGS
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- BOOK FOUR - DEADHOUSE GATES
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- GLOSSARY
- TRIBES OF THE SEVEN SUBCONTINENTS
- PLACE NAMES
- TITLES AND GROUPS
- ASCENDANTS
After a long moment he lifted his head and met her gaze. ‘Mother,’ he asked, ‘is this home?’
A voice spoke from a dozen paces away. ‘My colleague ever underestimates this realm’s natural inhabitants. Ah, there is the child.’
The boy turned and watched the tall, black-clad man approach. ‘Aptorian,’ the stranger continued, ‘your generous shaping of this lad – no matter how well-meant – will do naught but scar him within, in the years to come.’
Apt clicked and hissed a reply.
‘Ah, but you have achieved the opposite, Lady,’ the man said. ‘For he now belongs to neither.’
The demon spoke again.
The man cocked his head, regarded her for a long moment, then half-smiled. ‘Presumptuous of you.’ His gaze fell to the boy. ‘Very well.’ He crouched. ‘Hello.’
The boy returned the greeting shyly.
Casting a last irritated glance at Apt, the man offered the child his hand. ‘I’m ... Uncle Cotillion—’
‘You can’t be,’ the boy said.
‘Oh, and why not?’
‘Your eyes – they’re different – so small, two fighting to see as one. I think they must be weak. When you approached, you walked through a stone wall and then the trees, rippling the ghost world as if ignorant of its right to dwell here.’
Cotillion’s eyes widened. ‘Wall? Trees?’ He glanced up at Apt. ‘Has his mind fled?’
The demon answered at length.
Cotillion paled. ‘Hood’s breath!’ he finally muttered, and when he turned back to the child it was with an expression of awe. ‘What is your name, lad?’
‘Panek.’
‘You possess one, then. Tell me, what else – apart from your name – do you recall of your ... other world?’
‘I remember being punished. I was told to stay close to Father—’
‘And what did he look like?’
‘I don’t remember. I don’t remember any of their faces. We were waiting to see what they’d do with us. But then we were led away – the children – away. Soldiers pushed my father, dragged him in the opposite direction. I was supposed to stay close, but I went with the children. They punished me – punished all of the children – for not doing what we were told.’
Cotillion’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t think your father had much choice, Panek.’
‘But the enemy were fathers too, you see. And mothers and grandmothers – they were all so angry with us. They took our clothes. Our sandals. They took everything from us, they were so angry. Then they punished us.’
‘And how did they do that?’
‘They nailed us to crosses.’
Cotillion said nothing for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was strangely flat. ‘You remember that, then.’
‘Yes. And I promise to do as I’m told. From now on. Whatever Mother says. I promise.’