And Kip knew then he had lost him.
“But I am not,” Conn Arthur said. “Luíseach, I lied to you and you forgave me. You deserve my loyalty, my service, my life itself. But I have it not to give. At the end of all things, Tallach is just a goddam bear. But I’ve seen everyone else I love die, and I can’t see him leave me, too. I can’t risk him in battle one more time. I… can’t.”
“I won’t ask you to—” Kip said.
Conn Arthur interrupted, “I have broken faith already. I have just banished Tallach. I will-cast him, compelling him to go to the deepest part of the forest, and to avoid men for the rest of his days.”
A cloud descended on Kip. It wasn’t as if it were the first time he’d seen someone succumb to battle shock, but Conn Arthur? The great, hairy, muscular colossus seemed the very epitome of strength.
“Conn Ruadhán Arthur,” Kip said quietly. “I release Tallach. He’s done outstanding service to our fight, and he’s free to go. At the end of all things, as you say, I don’t need him. I do need you. Your people need you here. Your friends need you. You’re more than your magic. Your service, your knowledge, your fierceness, your strength is needed here, and I don’t dismiss you.”
Conn Arthur didn’t look up from his seat in the mud. He shook his head. “I’m finished. Call it a resignation or call me a deserter, you decide. Hang me or give me a pack. I’m done.” He stood and looked at his hands, bloody from where he’d been holding Lorcan’s fur. “I’m sorry to cast a pall on your great victory, my lord. You’ve much to do, I know. Here’s your wife now. With news and pressing duties, no doubt. I’ll not undercut your authority by defying you in front of your men. I’ll await your verdict on the morrow.”
Tisis rode up on her little roan. She took in the scene quickly and her eyes softened, but she turned to Kip. “I’m sorry, my lord, but the gates are opening. There have been stories of some sort of conflict between you and Dúnbheo’s conn earlier? Your men are spoiling for a fight. Theirs seem to be, too. We need you. Now.”
Damn and double damn.
Chapter 69
The sky hammer came down in a crackle of lightning and fire and earthshaking thunder.
A moment before it struck him, Gavin jerked awake. He gasped, and fell from his cross-legged sitting position onto his back.
He sucked in great breaths, lying there in the darkness, his legs slowly untangling.
“Eat the poisoned bread,” the dead man said. “It’s your last hope. Go out like a man before you fade into your insanity.”
“What woke me?” Gavin asked.
“Holding out hope? You?” The dead man laughed. “Die, Dazen Guile, and may those you’ve harmed curse you into eternity.”
Some comfort you are.
He groped around in the darkness until he found the bread.
There had always been some part of him certain that he would escape. Things had worked out for him, always. He was a falling cat, destined to land on his feet. But this time he’d been dropped from too great a height. Landing on your feet didn’t mean anything when the fall pulverized your legs.
The pressure on his chest was suffocating.
“Do you remember your seven great purposes?” the dead man asked him.
“Uh-huh.”
“No. Really. Do you remember them all?”
“To tell Karris the truth about me, about Gavin and Dazen and Sundered Rock, that was the first one. To finally free Garriston, that was the second. After all I’d let happen to it.” He’d failed to save the city, but he’d succeeded in saving the people. It counted, maybe.
“Go on.”
“Several were for war. I knew there’d be war again. So the third was to get an army loyal to me.”
“Of course. The people of Garriston, with your old General Corvan Danavis at their head. And you held them off the table like a card to be played when no expects it.”
Gavin nodded. Seers Island seemed so distant to the conventional thinking, but it wasn’t distant anymore, because of the next goal. “The fourth was to learn to fly. That worked for me for a little while, but I couldn’t ever make a condor that could move supplies and troops across the seas. Nonetheless, in my failure, I created the skimmer, which does what I wanted anyway: I can move troops to places no one could imagine they’d show up. Perhaps as importantly, I can communicate more swiftly than any foe. The fifth goal was to undermine the Spectrum and get myself named as promachos again. That almost worked.”
“What’s number six?”
“To kill all the color wights. All of them, in the entire world.”
“For Sevastian?”
“For everyone.” Yes, for Sevastian. Eight years old and murdered by a blue.
“A grandiose plan, for a blind man.”
“No, grandiose was the seventh goal.”
The dead man was silent, but Gavin was, too.
Finally the dead man said, “What was the seventh goal?”
“You’re not me, are you?” Gavin said.
“Of course not. What, do you think you’re talking to yourself? You’re not that crazy. Not yet.”
“You aren’t a young version of me I will-cast into this cell to comfort myself. You’re something else.”
Silence for a time.
“You underestimate your old self.”
“Enough of that. I know.”
Silence again.
“What gave it away?” the dead man asked.
“When you said . ‘Raka,’ I might have dredged from the depths of a fevered brain. But ?” And you lied about white luxin, but Gavin didn’t need to tip that card yet.
“Eh, I worried about that. I was angry. I made a mistake. I hoped you’d missed it.”
“So what are you?” Gavin asked.
“Oh, Dazen Guile. Come now. Isn’t that your seventh goal? To join us?”
Gavin shivered. ‘Us’? Every word was likely a lie. Every word had been a lie so far.
But what did that mean?
Or was this a hallucination? Was this conversation even real? Or was this madness in truth?
Dear Orholam, I am finally losing it. Conspiracies and spirits? What’s next?
What could you do when you couldn’t trust even your own mind?
He tore a hunk off the bread. He wadded up the dough, rolling it in his hands and compressing it until it was a starchy bullet. He opened his mouth to toss in the bullet all nonchalant.
Wait, a quiet voice said to him.
He closed his mouth.
“What was that?” the dead man said. “Who was that? You can’t touch him! You can’t speak to him! That’s not how it works. That’s not the rules! Unless…”
Gavin was about to say something aloud, but whatever it was, he forgot it immediately when he heard a sound. Something from outside the cell.
No! I’m in here for months and months and nothing happens, and then two vitally important things happen at the exact same time?
The air changed and light streamed into the black cell like a sledge smashing Gavin’s good eye. Gavin blinked against it, putting out a three-fingered hand to block the assault, and the man turned down his lamp. Then he set it on the floor.
Grinwoody.
Chapter 70
“In the circus when I was growing up, we had this act,” Big Leo said, as the Mighty followed Kip toward the Dúnbheo gate. They hadn’t heard what Conn Arthur had said. Cruxer told them only that he was leaving.
They weren’t taking it well.
Big Leo continued, “We’d take the scrawniest kid we could find in the village, or some feeble old codger, or just the kid whose parents we wanted to please the most, and we’d pit him against my dad, who was my size now at least. Bigger. We had these funny illusions where we pitted him against my father in feats of strength, and somehow he won every time. And at the finale, my father pretends to be furious and picks the skinny guy up and sets him on a teeterboard, determined to bounce him out of the place. He jumps on his side of the teeterboard—and just slowly rises, not even fast enough to bounce him. Then my father looks at the teeterboard like it’s got to be broken. Picks it up, moves it around, sees that it’s just a plain old teeterboard: one piece of plain wood over a fulcrum.”