Behind the silhouette with its halo of tangled, sweat-matted hair, the heaving shoulders, he saw Great Ravens, a score or more, flying up from the south.
Closer and closer.
With an effort, Spinnock focused on Kallor once more. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Not yet, Kallor, but you will. Someday, you will.’
‘He does not deserve you!’
Spinnock frowned, blinked to clear his eyes. ‘Oh, Kallor…’
The High King’s face was ravaged with grief, and all that raged in the ancient man’s eyes-well, none of it belonged. Not to the legend that was Kallor. Not to the nightmares roiling round and round his very name. Not to the lifeless sea of ashes in his wake. No; what Spinnock saw in Kallor’s eyes were things that, he suspected, no one would ever see again.
It was, of sorts, a gift.
‘Kallor,’ he said, ‘listen to me. Take this as you will, or not at all. I-I am sorry. That you are driven to this. And… and may you one day show your true self. May you, one day, be redeemed in the eyes of the world.’
Kallor cried out, as if struck, and he staggered back. He recovered with bared teeth. ‘My true self? Oh, you damned fool! You see only what you want to see! In this last moment of your pathetic, useless life! May your soul rage for eternity in the heart of a star, Tiste Andii! May you yearn for what you can never have! For all in-fernal eternity!’
Spinnock had flinched back at the tirade. ‘Do you now curse me, High King?’ he asked in a whisper.
Kallor’s face looked ready to shatter. He dragged a forearm across his eyes. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Of course not. I will kill you clean. For what you have shown me this night-I have never before faced such a defence.’ And then he paused, edging forward again, his eyes burning in their pits. ‘You had chances, Spinnock Durav. To strike back. You could have wounded me-yes, you could have…’
‘I was not here to do that, Kallor.’
The High King stared, and a glint of comprehension lit in his face. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You only needed to delay me.’
Spinnock closed his eyes once more and settled his head back. ‘For a time. You may never accept this, but it was for your own good. It’s a mess over there. In that city. My Lord wanted you kept away.’
Kallor snarled. ‘How generous in his mercy is your Lord.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Spinnock, ‘he was ever that.’
Silence, then.
Not a sound. A dozen laboured heartbeats. Another dozen. Finally, some odd unease forced Spinnock to open his eyes yet again, to look upon Kallor.
Who stood, head bowed.
‘Yes,’ said Spinnock, in true sorrow, ‘he is gone.’
Kallor did not lift his gazc. He did not move at all.
‘And so,’ continued Spinnock, ‘I have stood here. In his stead. One last time.’ He paused. ‘And yes, it makes my death seem… easier-’
‘Oh shut up, will you? I am thinking.’
‘About what?’
Kallor met his eyes and bared his teeth. ‘That bastard. The bold, brazen bastard!’
Spinnock studied the High King, and then he grunted. ‘Well, that’s it, then.’
‘I don’t ever want to see you again, Spinnock Durav. You are bleeding out. I will leave you to that. I hear it’s quieter, easier-but then, what do I know?’
The Tiste Andii watched him set off then, up the road, to that fair city that even now bled with its own terrible wounds.
Too late to do anything, even if he’d wanted to. But, Spinnock Durav now sus-pected, Kallor might well have done nothing. He might have stood aside. ‘High King,’ he whispered, ‘all you ever wanted was a throne. But trust me, you don’t want Rake’s. No, proud warrior, that one you would not want. I think, maybe, you just realized that.’
Of course, when it came to Kallor, there was no way to know.
The Great Ravens were descending now, thumping heavily on to the blood-iplashed, muddy surface of the road.
And Spinnock Durav looked skyward then, as the dark forms of two dragons sailed past, barely a stone’s throw above the ground.
Racing for Kallor.
He saw one of the dragons suddenly turn its head, eyes flashing back in his di-rection, and the creature pitched to one side, coming round.
A moment later the other dragon reached Kallor, catching him entirely un-awares, talons lashing down to grasp the High King and lift him into the air. Wings thundering, the dragon carried its charge yet higher. Faint screams of fury sounded from the man writhing in that grasp.
