Dust of Dreams
‘Because you left that day.’
‘Aye. Down to Li Heng, first in line at the recruiting office. A soldier leaves the dead behind and the ones a soldier does bury, well, most of the time they’re people that soldier knows.’
‘We don’t raise battlefield barrows for just our own dead.’
‘That’s not what I mean by “knowing”, Bottle. Ever look down on an enemy’s face, a dead one, I mean?’
‘A few times, aye.’
‘What did you see?’
Bottle shifted uneasily, squinted at the tower again. ‘Point taken.’
‘No better place to piss on Hood’s face than in an army. When piss is all you got, and let’s face it, it’s all any of us has got.’
‘I’m waiting-patiently-to see how all this comes back to Sinn and Grub and the Azath.’
‘You collected the dogs.’
‘Then I unleashed them both. They shot like siege bolts-up streets, down alleys, round buildings and right through screaming crowds-right up to that door over there. The Azath.’
‘How’d you keep up with them?’
‘I didn’t. I set a geas on them both and just followed that. By the time I got here, Roach had been throwing itself at the door so often it was lying stunned on the path. And Bent was trying to dig through the flagstones.’
‘So why didn’t any of us think of doing something like that?’
‘Because you’re all stupid, that’s why.’
‘What did you do then?’ Bottle asked.
‘I opened the door. In they went. I heard them racing up the stairs-and then… nothing. Silence. The dogs went after Sinn and Grub, through a portal of some sort.’
‘Hood’s breath. All right, so I messed up. Even geniuses can get stupid on occasion.’
‘It was Crump who delivered your message-I could barely make any sense of it. You wanted to meet me here, and here I am. But this tale of yours you could have told me over a tankard at Gosling’s Tavern.’
‘I chose Crump because I knew that as soon as he delivered the message he’d forget all about it. He’d even forget I talked to him, and that he then talked to you. He is, in fact, the thickest man I have ever known.’
‘So we meet in secret. How mysterious. What do you want with me, Deadsmell?’
‘I want to know about your nightly visitor, to start with. I figured it’d be something best done in private.’
Bottle stared at him.
Deadsmell frowned. ‘What?’
‘I’m waiting to see the leer.’
‘Aye, and every time I wish I didn’t.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s so much… need in them.’
‘Is that it? Nothing else?’
‘Plenty else, Deadsmell. Pleasure, maybe even love-I don’t know. Everything I see in her eyes… it’s in the “now.” I don’t know how else to explain it. There’s no past, no future, only the present.’
‘Empty and full.’
Bottle’s gaze narrowed. ‘Like the ram, aye, the animal side of her. It freezes me in my tracks, I admit, as if I was looking into a mirror and seeing my own eyes, but in a way no one else can see them. My eyes with…’ he shivered, ‘nobody behind them. Nobody I know.’
‘Nobody anyone knows,’ Deadsmell said, nodding. ‘Bottle, I once looked into Hood’s own eyes, and I saw the same thing-I even felt what you just described. Me, but not me. Me, but really, nobody. And I think I know what I saw-what you keep seeing in her, as well. I think I finally understand it-those eyes, the empty and full, the solid absence in them.’ He faced Bottle. ‘It’s our eyes in death. Our eyes when our souls have fled them.’