‘It may seem to you, by your comment and all its sharp edges, that I am fleeing from my beloved wife and our wastrel of a son. This gives great offence and I am of a mind to draw weapons and have at you.’

‘Then you are even drunker than I had thought.’

‘I am, and am also most hateful of truths that rear up ugly of countenance.’

‘Most truths have that face, friend. But I was speaking of Draconus.’

Grizzin sighed. ‘Guilt shouts loud at the most inopportune moment. Drunk and a fool – already the wine knocks about inside my skull, and I curse how you plied me with that Tiste poison.’

‘Better you than your wife.’

‘All my friends say that. I will be hungry come the dawn – have you spare food?’

‘You brought none with you, Grizzin Farl?’ Caladan Brood sighed.

‘I have a pot,’ Grizzin countered.

‘Followed you out of the house, did it?’

‘Eager to replace the head on my shoulders, yes. Long ago she swore to carry no blade, no cudgel, no iron-tipped spear. Yet made of her hands the deadliest of weapons, second only to her temper, but on occasion even they will deign to reach for something that will serve the instant. I have learned her ways, you see, and so was appropriately wary in my retreat.’

‘And the argument this time?’

Grizzin sank his head into his hands. ‘I went too far. I threw the boy out.’

‘I am sure he gave cause.’

‘He has fallen under the influence of my first progeny, Errastas.’

‘There was always something of the follower in Sechul Lath,’ said Brood. ‘Errastas is ambitious and would be the master of the litter.’

‘Setch is weak, is what he is. To have them both come from my loins shrinks my sack with shame.’

‘Amend that defect before you stand naked before Mother Dark.’

‘In so many ways I will give thanks to the darkness surrounding her. Now, my words remain bold as weapons, but my thoughts shy from reason. I am drunk and unmanned and the only retreat awaiting me is senseless slumber. Good night to you, old friend. When next we meet, it shall be Thel Akai ale and the gifting shall be from my hand to yours.’

‘Already you dream of vengeance.’

‘I do, and with pleasure.’

* * *

‘That nearly killed us,’ gasped Sechul Lath, his right arm hanging useless and broken in at least two places. He leaned forward as far as he could and spat out blood and mucus, which was better than swallowing it, as he had been doing since the stubborn woman’s death. The taste in his mouth belonged to violence and savage fear, and now it sat heavy in his stomach. ‘And I am still of two minds.’

Errastas, kneeling nearby, finished binding the deep wound on his thigh and then looked away, back down the glittering trail. ‘I was right,’ he said. ‘They’re coming. Her Tiste blood flows true.’