‘Thank you anyway.’
‘Don’t waste your thanks on them,’ the Tailor said. ‘The Gods never do anything out of generosity.’
I was inclined to agree when Death, who had not spoken until then, finally said, ‘You really are a truly foul old creature, aren’t you?’
For the first time since I’d known her, the Tailor was speechless.
Maybe the Gods aren’t really so bad after all.
‘We have to go,’ Valour said. He and the others turned towards the east. ‘Your friends come, and the one with the bow is prone to . . . unwise threats.’
For just an instant, I thought of calling on him to wait, to ask whether Death would let me see my wife Aline one last time, but I stopped myself. She above all deserved peace now, from the cares of this world, and from a foolish and reckless man who once and for all needed to find a way to stop living in the past.
I turned and saw horses coming in the distance. ‘I’ve made a decision,’ I said suddenly.
They paused in their steps. ‘What decision is that?’ Valour asked.
‘I’ve decided your name is Tommer.’
‘You would impose your will upon the Gods?’ he asked, with the half-smile of a boy who’s just been caught at mischief.
‘Someone has to,’ I replied.
Valour turned, and for a brief moment I saw something behind those clear, bright eyes. Something familiar. ‘Tommer, God of Valour?’ He grinned. ‘It’s as good a name as any, I suppose.’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
The Departure
You would think that the Gods would leave the earth in a flash of light or a puff of smoke, but these didn’t; they just began walking east, towards the empty desert. I wondered what they would do if we simply decided to follow them.
‘Gods,’ the Tailor spat. ‘Of all man’s useless inventions, they are surely the most pointless.’
Five horses arrived. Kest, Brasti, Valiana, Ethalia and Chalmers dismounted. When first Ethalia came towards me I thought it might be some trick – that the God Love had once again taken her form – because she was glowing a little, though not in the way her Sainthood usually caused her to. On the other hand, it had been a month since I’d last seen her, so I might have just been imagining it.
Brasti, who’s always had the best vision of all of us, ran to where the Tailor and I stood and looked out towards the desert. ‘Are those the fucking Gods again?’
‘Three of them, anyway,’ I replied.
Ethalia came into my arms and I squeezed her. ‘Not so hard,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long ride.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, a little hurt.
Brasti took a couple of steps towards the desert. ‘Don’t even think of coming back,’ he shouted, ‘or you’ll have Brasti God-Slayer, Vanquisher of the Avarean Horde, to answer to!’
‘Vanquisher of the what?’
‘He’s been saying that all the way here,’ Valiana said, rolling her eyes. ‘Every tavern and inn we stopped at he’d rush in looking to see if he could find a Bardatti or even a travelling minstrel to hear the tale of how he came up with the brilliant plan to defeat the Avareans simply by whistling their own song. When the troubadours showed no interest, he just started rattling it off to every drunk he could find.’
Brasti turned back to us. ‘Look, I understand how those among you who haven’t defeated an undefeatable army or killed a God might feel a trifle’ – here he looked at Kest – ‘reduced by your lack of accomplishment. But please don’t hold it against those of us posessed of more . . . substantial virtues.’
Kest and I shared a brief glance and the two of us had to struggle to keep from breaking out into a fit of laughter. Oh how this unprepared world would suffer on the day that Brasti Goodbow finally learned that one of his dirty jokes helped defeat the Saint of Swords. ‘Why were the Gods here?’ Kest asked, once the risk of inexplicable giggling on his part had passed.
I was going to say something clever about how visits from the Gods had become such a frequent occurrence that I really don’t pay attention any more, but then I realised that the others might take some solace in what had happened with Aline.
‘That’s . . . surprisingly decent of them,’ Kest said, once the tale had been told.
‘It’ll come back to haunt us,’ the Tailor countered, ‘just wait and see. Nothing good comes from consorting with Gods or the dead.’
‘So,’ Brasti said. ‘After all of that, what did the King have to say?’
‘He said the whole world could have been saved if only you’d learned how to use a sword properly.’
Brasti pointed to himself. ‘Hello? Man who repeatedly saves the world here? Can I get a modicum of respect?’
‘You’re very impressive, dear,’ I said.
‘Finally. Thank you.’ He leaned towards me and whispered in a voice that could likely have been heard miles away, ‘I’ll have you know I didn’t let Ethalia anywhere near my bed, no matter how much she pleaded with me.’
‘“Pleaded with you”?’
‘Well, not so much openly. I mean, she didn’t actually beg out loud. It was more in the eyes.’
Ethalia looked down at the ground. ‘It’s . . . not entirely untrue. I did have . . . thoughts . . . of coming to your room at night.’
‘Really?’ Brasti asked.
She grinned wickedly. ‘Yes, but only to ask if you could stop snoring. The walls of the inn were shaking.’
He threw up his hands. ‘Lies. I’m surrounded by liars.’
‘Did the King reveal anything to you?’ Valiana asked.
‘Only that he was a bigger arsehole than I remembered.’
‘Well, some of us knew that already,’ Kest said, surprising me with his grin.
‘Oh, for Saints’ sake,’ the Tailor growled. ‘Will one of you help me bury my granddaughter next to my son so I can get back to my cottage and die of old age in peace?’
*
We buried Aline in a little plot at the top of the hill next to where the Tailor had laid her son years before. It would have been a silent ceremony, but for Brasti’s periodic attempts at humour, Kest’s glances, which shut him up, Valiana’s tears and Ethalia’s song. I hadn’t even known that she could sing. The woman insisted on continually surprising me. Sister of Mystery indeed.
The Tailor said nothing nor made any sound, but when she and I looked at each other I knew the depths of her sorrow. It was mirrored in my own heart.
It was too late to begin the journey back, so we made camp near the horse-cart. The Tailor stayed by Aline’s grave.
I unbuckled the breaching straps and expected Monster to race back towards Aramor and her new herd, out of our lives for ever, but instead, she walked a few yards away and looked up at the hilltop.
Brasti organised a meal, but I couldn’t tell you what it was. My taste for food had largely vanished, along with my taste for most other things in life.
‘Our new monarch is turning out to be a bit of a mess, in case you’re wondering,’ Brasti said, finally, as we sat around the fire.
‘King Filian’s not as bad as all that,’ Valiana countered.