G’danii saying

The twin long-knives were slung in a faded leather harness stitched in swirling Pardu patterns. They hung from a nail on one of the shop’s corner posts, beneath an elaborate Kherahn shaman’s feather headdress. The long table fronting the canopied stall was crowded with ornate obsidian objects looted from some tomb, each one newly blessed in the name of gods, spirits or demons. On the left side, behind the table and flanking the toothless proprietor who sat cross-legged on a high stool, was a tall screened cabinet.

The burly, dark-skinned customer stood examining the obsidian weapons for some time before a slight flip of his right hand signalled an interest to the hawker.

‘The breath of demons!’ the old man squealed, jabbing a gnarled finger at various stone blades in confusing succession. ‘And these, kissed by Mael – see how the waters have smoothed them? I have more—’

‘What lies in the cabinet?’ the customer rumbled.

‘Ah, you’ve a sharp eye! Are you a Reader, perchance? Could you smell the chaos, then? Decks, my wise friend! Decks! And oh, haven’t they awakened! Yes, all anew. All is in flux—’

‘The Deck of Dragons is always in flux—’

‘Ah, but a new House! Oh, I see your surprise at that, friend! A new House. Vast power, ‘tis said. Tremors to the very roots of the world!’

The man facing him scowled. ‘Another new House, is it? Some local impostor cult, no doubt—’

But the old man was shaking his head, eyes darting past his lone customer, suspiciously scanning the market crowd – paltry as it was. He then leaned forward. ‘I do not deal in those, friend. Oh, I am as loyal to Dryjhna as the next, make no claims otherwise! But the Deck permits no bias, does it? Oh no, balanced wise eyes and mind is necessary. Indeed. Now, why does the new House ring with truth? Let me tell you, friend. First, a new Unaligned card, a card denoting that a Master now commands the Deck. An arbiter, yes? And then, spreading out like a runaway stubble fire, the new House. Sanctioned? Undecided. But not rejected out of hand, oh no, not rejected. And the Readers – the patterns! The House will be sanctioned – not one Reader doubts that!’

‘And what is the name of this House?’ the customer asked. ‘What throne? Who claims to rule it?’

‘The House of Chains, my friend. To your other, questions, there is naught but confusion in answer. Ascendants vie. But I will tell you this: the Throne where the King shall sit – the Throne, my friend, is cracked.’

‘You are saying this House belongs to the Chained One?’

‘Aye. The Crippled God.’

‘The others must be assailing it fiercely,’ the man murmured, his expression thoughtful.

‘You would think, but not so. Indeed, it is they who are assailed! Do you wish to see the new cards?’