House of Chains
Trull’s smile broadened. ‘I was referring to these statues, Onrack. To answer you-I do not know if the hands that fashioned these were Tiste Edur. As for Mother Dark, it may be that in creating us, she but simply separated what was not separate before.’
‘Are you then the shadows of Tiste Andu? Torn free by the mercy of your goddess mother?’
‘But Onrack, we are all torn free.’
‘Two of the Hounds are here, Trull Sengar. Their souls are trapped in the stone. And one more thing of note-these likenesses cast no shadows.’
‘Nor do the Hounds themselves.’
‘If they are but reflections, then there must be Hounds of Darkness, from which they were torn,’ Onrack persisted. ‘Yet there is no knowledge of such…’ The T’lan Imass suddenly fell silent.
Trull laughed. ‘It seems you know more of the human First Empire than you first indicated. What was that tyrant emperor’s name? No matter. We should journey onward, to the gate-’
‘Dessimbelackis,’ Onrack whispered. ‘The founder of the human First Empire. Long vanished by the time of the unleashing of the Beast Ritual. It was believed he had… veered.’
‘D’ivers?’
‘Aye.’
‘And beasts numbered?’
‘Seven.’
Trull stared up at the statues, then gestured. ‘We didn’t build these. No, I am not certain, but in my heart I feel… no empathy. They are ominous and brutal to my eyes, T’lan Imass. The Hounds of Shadow are not worthy of worship. They are indeed untethered, wild and deadly. To truly command them, one must sit in the Throne of Shadow-as master of the realm. But more than that. One must first draw together the disparate fragments. Making Kurald Emurlahn whole once more.’
‘And this is what your kin seek,’ Onrack rumbled. ‘The possibility troubles me.’
The Tiste Edur studied the T’lan Imass, then shrugged. ‘I did not share your distress at the prospect-not at first. And indeed, had it remained… pure, perhaps I would still be standing alongside my brothers. But another power acts behind the veil in all this-I know not who or what, but I would tear aside that veil.’
‘Why?’
Trull seemed startled by the question, then he shivered. ‘Because what it has made of my people is an abomination, Onrack.’
After a moment, Trull Sengar followed. ‘I imagine you know little of what it is like to see your kin fall into dissolution, to see the spirit of an entire people grow corrupt, to struggle endlessly to open their eyes-as yours have been opened by whatever clarity chance has gifted you.’
‘True,’ Onrack replied, his steps thumping the sodden ground.
‘Nor is it mere naivete,’ the Tiste Edur went on, limping in Onrack’s wake. ‘Our denial is wilful, our studied indifference conveniently self-serving to our basest desires. We are a long-lived people who now kneel before short-term interests-’
‘If you find that unusual,’ the T’lan Imass muttered, ‘then it follows that the one behind the veil has need for you only in the short term-if indeed that hidden power is manipulating the Tiste Edur.’
‘An interesting thought. You may well be right. The question then is, once that short-term objective is reached, what will happen to my people?’
‘Things that outlive their usefulness are discarded,’ Onrack replied.
‘Abandoned. Yes-’
‘Unless, of course,’ the T’lan Imass went on, ‘they would then pose a threat to one who had so exploited them. If so, then the answer would be to annihilate them once they are no longer useful.’
‘There is the unpleasant ring of truth to your words, Onrack.’
‘I am generally unpleasant, Trull Sengar.’
‘So I am learning. You say the souls of two Hounds are imprisoned within these-which ones again?’
‘We now walk between them.’
‘What are they doing here, I wonder?’
‘The stone has been shaped to encompass them, Trull Sengar. No-one asks the spirit or the god, when the icon is fashioned, if it wishes entrapment. Do they? The need to make such vessels is a mortal’s need. That one can rest eyes on the thing one worships is an assertion of control at worst, or at best the illusion that one can negotiate over one’s own fate.’
‘And you find such notions suitably pathetic, Onrack?’
‘I find most notions pathetic, Trull Sengar.’