Grizzin nodded. ‘Much practised,’ he said, ‘but yet to convince. I would change my tack, were I not certain the course is true.’

‘I think it is time for the third jug.’

‘Yes. Despondency was beckoned and lo, herein it slides. So morose, so knowing. If my vision were clearer, if my thoughts sharper, if my wit truly honed, I might find cause to drink and forget.’

‘I know little of this Anomander Rake.’

‘Then I shall bestir him for you. All that is to be known, and so you will find out who stands at the other end of your chain, and if the links be few in number, or beyond count, this too I will discover.’

‘There is a surety about him, that much was clear,’ said Brood. ‘Beyond the gift of the title given him; and his closeness to Mother Dark. He possesses something deliberate and yet of great depth. He is, I think, a violent man, yet is not at ease with the violence in him.’

‘A flagellant, then. I see before me the demise of my enthusiasm.’

‘He avowed he would not drag me into their civil war.’

‘That war is certain?’

Caladan Brood shrugged. ‘They are a generation that has tasted blood, and where horror fades, nostalgia seeps in. In war all is simple, and there is appeal in this. Who among us is comforted by confusion, uncertainty?’

Grizzin Farl mulled on this for a time, and then shook his head. ‘Is it as the Jaghut assert, then? In society we find the seeds of its own destruction?’

‘Perhaps, but they miss the point. It is the absence of society that leads to destruction. When concord is lost, when arguments cease and in opposition neither side sees the other as kin, as brother and sister, then all manner of atrocity is possible.’

‘You strew sharp stones upon my path of thought, old friend. Does Mother Dark will this dissolution?’

‘I should think not, but in darkness she dwells.’

‘The wine is gone. Only sour fumes remain. Drunkenness pretends to resolution. I would sigh and revel in lazy pondering. Do you return home, Caladan? Ah, I thought not. K’rul has begotten a child and the earth itself holds the memory of its birth-cry. Will you drink of K’rul’s blood?’

Brood grunted, eyes on the failing fire. ‘There is no need for that. As you say, the child is born, and will in turn beget many others before too long.’

‘Did you not judge him precipitous?’

‘That judgement is no longer relevant, Grizzin. It is done.’

‘It was a thought of mine,’ Grizzin Farl said, ‘that Draconus journeyed in fevered rage.’

Brood looked up, eyes sharp. ‘And?’

‘Bloodied my feet for a time on that path. But in our night of meeting, which I revisit from all angles, I now conclude that my fears are unfounded. He is indifferent to K’rul. What drives him now is far more desperate.’

Brood nodded. ‘Love will do that.’