Free The White-Luck Warrior by R. Scott Bakker Page A

don't understand the question."
    "The Men of the Ordeal do not march to save the World, Proyas—at least not first and foremost. They march to save their wives and their children. Their tribes and their nations. If they learn that the world, their world, slips into ruin behind them, that their wives and daughters may perish for want of their shields, their swords, the Host of Hosts would melt about the edges, then collapse."
    And in his soul's eye Proyas could see them, the Men of the Ordeal, sitting about their innumerable fires, trading rumours of disaster back home. He could see them prod and stoke one another's fears, for property, for loved ones, for title and prestige. He could hear the arguments, the long grinding to and fro of faith and incessant worry. And as much as it dismayed him, he knew that his Lord-and-God spoke true, that Men truly were so weak.
    Even those who had conquered the known world. Even the Zaudunyani.
    "So what are you proposing?" he asked, nodding in sour agreement.
    "An embargo," the Aspect-Emperor replied on a pent breath. "I will forbid, on pain of death, all Cants of Far-calling. Henceforth, the Men of the Ordeal shall march with only memories to warm them."
    Home. This, if anything, was the abstraction for the Exalt-General. There was a place, of course. Even for beggars, there was a place. But Proyas had spent so many years campaigning that home for him possessed a wane and fleeting character, the sense of things attested to by others. For him, home was his wife, Miramis, who still wept whenever he left her bed for the wide world, and his children, Xinemus and Thaila, who had to be reminded he was their father upon his rare returns.
    And even they seemed strangers whenever melancholy steered his thoughts toward them.
    No. This was his home. Dwelling in the light of Anasûrimbor Kellhus.
    Waging his endless war.
    The Aspect-Emperor reached out, grasped his shoulder in unspoken acknowledgment. Never, in all their years together, had he promised any reprieve, any respite, from the toil that had so burdened his life. Never had he said, "After this, Proyas... After this..."
    Warmth sparked through the Exalt-General, the tingle of grace.
    "What will you tell them?" he asked roughly.
    "That Golgotterath has the ability to scry our scrying."
    "Do they?"
    Kellhus arched his eyebrows. "Perhaps. Twenty centuries have they prepared—who could say? It would terrify you, Proyas, to know how little I know of our enemy."
    A resigned smile. "I have not known terror since I have known you."
    And yet he had known so many things just as difficult.
    "Fear not," Kellhus said sadly. "You will be reacquainted before all this is through."
    The Seeing-Flame fluttered and twirled before them, caught in some inexplicable draft. Even its warmth seemed to spin.
    "So," Proyas said, speaking to ward against the chill falling through him, "the Great Ordeal at last sails beyond sight of shore. I see the wisdom—the necessity . But surely you will maintain contact with the Empire."
    "No..." Kellhus replied with an uncharacteristic glance at his haloed hands. "I will not."
    "But... but why ?"
    The Warrior-Prophet looked to the dark leather panels rising about them, gazed as if seeing shapes and portents in the wavering twine of light and shadow. "Because time is short and all I have are fragmentary visions..."
    He turned to his Exalt-General. "I can no longer afford backward glances."
    And Proyas understood that at long last the Great Ordeal had begun in earnest. The time had come to set aside burdens, to shed all complicating baggage.
    Including home.
    Only death, war, and triumph remained. Only the future.
    —|—
    Anasûrimbor Kellhus, the Holy Aspect-Emperor of the Three Seas, declared the Breaking of the Great Ordeal at the Eleventh Council of Potentates. The same concerns echoed through the ensuing debates, for such is the temper of many men that they must be convinced several times before they can be convinced at