Out on the streets of Kharkanas, the residual mud of the river’s flooding earlier that day had smeared the stones and painted the walls of the torchlit buildings he rode past, as if making a sullied pronouncement bold as blasphemy. His unease had only deepened in his passage through the city to the bridge that would take him west of the river. Faith was ever on the edge of crisis, but it seemed that this fated arrival of the Azathanai, and the dark, disturbing miracles that followed, had pushed everything over the edge.

Hunn Raal had argued that now, more than ever, was the time for Lord Urusander’s ascension. Once he stood at Mother Dark’s side, the unruly elements would be hammered into submission and whatever schism now threatened the faith could be addressed. It had seemed a contrary position, since he was in the process of dispatching riders out to all the units with orders to desist. Drunks had a way of spitting in two directions at once. The truth was, there was chaos in Kurald Galain and the sudden unleashing of bloodshed might shatter the entire realm, and Mother Dark with it. For all that, what had seemed relatively straightforward in Renth’s eyes was now murky and confused, and a belligerent, red-eyed commander was hardly an inspiring send-off. Loyalty to Urusander alone kept Renth’s hands on the reins, and his butt in the saddle.

But a long ride through the night gave him too much time to think. Renth had no compunction about slaughtering the Deniers because he did not see them as Tiste at all. They had surrendered that name in their squalid worship of old gods. The Tiste needed to unify their faith, with Mother Dark upon the Throne of Night. Refusing allegiance to Mother Dark had long ago stripped the Deniers of her protection, and so they deserved whatever befell them. He doubted that any hoary, mud-spattered river god of old could protect those lost fools. Lord Urusander understood necessity, and he would do what was needed to unify the Tiste and to cleanse the realm.

It was, in fact, simple. They would hunt down the Deniers and kill them. They would scour the last depths of the forests and root them out, and then feed their corpses to the river.

But the highborn were another matter. When the time came, however, Renth would do as commanded. He was a soldier after all, and soldiers needed to set aside their conscience on occasion, when necessity demanded hard choices. Besides, after the deed was done even remorse could be chewed dry and spat out.