Free Fall of Thanes by Brian Ruckley Page A

dissent from that, none who doubt that the moment has come for all other concerns to be set aside, have any place in this endeavour. There must be unity. That is why we are gathered here now. Not to indulge in dispute, but to end it."
    "Don't question my faithfulness to the creed," Talark said, though his tone lacked the steel of conviction.
    "There must be unity," Goedellin murmured. All looked towards him. To Kanin's eyes, the man looked more frail and weary than ever before. He spoke slowly, heavily, his seerstem-darkened lips sluggish. "There must be unity, and certainty. Doubt is the enemy of faith. Yet these times are... confused. Few things seem as clear as once they did."
    "Success is clarity," Shraeve said. "It answers all questions." She was firm, but her manner had shed its confrontational edge. It was good to see, Kanin thought, that the Battle's confidence and arrogance had not yet become bloated enough to crowd out some vestigial respect for an Inner Servant of the Lore.
    "Indeed." Goedellin nodded. "Indeed." And then: "Perhaps."
    "When Kilvale falls, all doubt will be undone," said Shraeve with cold certainty. "When we hold the Fisherwoman's birthplace, the birthplace of our creed, then the fire will burn brightly in every heart. Nothing will quench it then. None will be able to argue fate's intent."
    "Oh, there's always room for argument," Cannek interjected lightly. "It's in our nature to be disputatious."
    Kanin groaned inwardly. Why taunt the woman? Why so brazenly flaunt his opposition? But, of course, Cannek was one of those who found such liberation in the Black Road that he feared nothing, found nothing troubling. He would dare anything, and greet the consequences of his daring with equanimity. Such sentiments, once familiar, were beyond Kanin's reach now.
    At the far, gloomy end of the hall, the Kyrinin were moving. One of the doors opened. Kanin held his breath, and sensed the same sudden expectation taking hold of everyone else at the table.
    The na'kyrim entered, and whatever feelings had been stirring in Kanin turned to disgust at the sight of him. Aeglyss was a wasted figure, emaciated and gaunt, coming unsteadily forward on the arm of a tall woodwight. The halfbreed's colourless skin was scabbed and slack. Kanin grimaced.
    Yet when he looked about the faces of the others gathered there, he saw entirely different emotions portrayed. A hint of unease now and again, but fascination too. Even Talark watched Aeglyss approach with a pathetic, wide-eyed touch of wonder.
    There was an empty chair at Shraeve's side. Aeglyss settled gingerly into it. He looked so small. Kanin imagined that the halfbreed's neck would break with only the gentlest of twists. The Kyrinin warrior who had escorted Aeglyss to his place remained standing there, just behind him.
    "Must we have woodwights in attendance?" asked Talark, recovering a fragment of his previous antagonism.
    "This is Hothyn," Shraeve said. "He is the son of the White Owl Voice, and leader of the warband that accompanies Aeglyss. His presence is a sign of our strength, not our weakness."
    Yet I saw these same White Owls killing one another in the streets of Glasbridge, Kanin thought. Even in them, Aeglyss could not command the unity you hope for. Not until those who contested it had been killed.
    "Do not be distressed by my appearance," Aeglyss suddenly said. His voice grated in his throat. "I am engaged in a struggle, every day, to contain and to shape what burns within me. It takes its toll. Flesh and bone were not made to bear such burdens. A river that rises in its greatest flood will ruin and break its banks, and so it is with me. The flood is in me. Once I master it, I will repair its ravages."
    He smiled, and Kanin saw yellowing teeth, black veins of corruption and decay spreading from them through white gums. He imagined that were he close enough he would catch the stink of rot from that foul mouth. The smile faded, and Aeglyss closed his eyes.
    "I