The Bonehunters

'No, it isn't. Not given what I have discovered-'

'Tell me.'

'No.'

'Better yet, Banaschar, convince me.'

'I cannot,' he replied, hands clutching the grimy bedding to either side.

'An imperial matter?'

'No.'

'Well, that is a start. As you said, then, the subject pertains to once-followers of D'rek. A subject, one presumes, related to the succession of mysterious deaths within the cult of the Worm.

Succession? More like slaughter, yes? Tell me, is there anyone left?

Anyone at all?'

Banaschar said nothing.

'Except, of course,' the stranger added, 'those few who have, at some time in the past and for whatever reasons, fallen away from the cult.

From worship.'

'You know too much of this,' Banaschar said. He should never have stayed in this room. He should have been finding different hovels every night. He hadn't thought there'd be anyone, anyone left, who'd remember him. After all, those who might have were now all dead. And I know why. Gods below, how I wish I didn't.

'Tayschrenn,' said the man after a moment, 'is being isolated.

Thoroughly and most efficiently. In my professional standing, I admit to considerable admiration, in fact. Alas, in that same capacity, I am also experiencing considerable alarm.'

'You are a Claw.'

'Very good – at least some intelligence is sifting through that drunken haze, Banaschar. Yes, my name is Pearl.'

'How did you find me?'

'Does that make a difference?'

'It does. To me, it does, Pearl.'

Another sigh and a wave of one hand. 'Oh, I was bored. I followed someone, who, it turned out, was keeping track of you – with whom you spoke, where you went, you know, the usual things required.'

'Required? For what?'

'Why, preparatory, I imagine, to assassination, when that killer's master deems it expedient.'

Banaschar was suddenly shivering, the sweat cold and clammy beneath his clothes. 'There is nothing political,' he whispered, 'nothing that has anything to do with the empire. There is no reason-'

'Oh, but you have made it so, Banaschar. Do you forget? Tayschrenn is being isolated. You are seeking to break that, to awaken the Imperial High Mage-'

'Why is he permitting it?' Banaschar demanded. 'He's no fool-'

A soft laugh. 'Oh no, Tayschrenn is no fool. And in that, you may well have your answer.'

Banaschar blinked in the gloom. 'I must meet with him, Pearl.'

'You have not yet convinced me.'

A long silence, in which Banaschar closed his eyes, then placed his hands over them, as if that would achieve some kind of absolution. But only words could do that. Words, uttered now, to this man. Oh, how he wanted to believe it would… suffice. A Claw, who would be my ally.

Why? Because the Claw has… rivals. A new organization that has deemed it expedient to raise impenetrable walls around the Imperial High Mage. What does that reveal of that new organization? They see Tayschrenn as an enemy, or they would so exclude him as to make his inaction desirable, even to himself. They know he knows, and wait to see if he finally objects. But he has not yet done so, leading them to believe that he might not – during whatever is coming. Abyss take me, what are we dealing with here?

Banaschar spoke from behind his hands. 'I would ask you something, Pearl.'

'Very well.'

'Consider the most grand of schemes,' he said. 'Consider time measured in millennia. Consider the ageing faces of gods, goddesses, beliefs and civilizations…'

'Go on. What is it you would ask?'

Still he hesitated. Then he slowly lowered his hands, and looked across, to that grey, ghostly face opposite him. 'Which is the greater crime, Pearl, a god betraying its followers, or its followers betraying their god? Followers who then choose to commit atrocities in that god's name. Which, Pearl? Tell me, please.'

The Claw was silent for a dozen heartbeats, then he shrugged. 'You ask a man without faith, Banaschar.'

'Who better to judge?'

'Gods betray their followers all the time, as far as I can tell. Every unanswered prayer, every unmet plea for salvation. The very things that define faith, I might add.'

'Failure, silence and indifference? These are the definitions of faith, Pearl?'

'As I said, I am not the man for this discussion.'

'But are those things true betrayal?'

'That depends, I suppose. On whether the god worshipped is, by virtue of being worshipped, in turn beholden to the worshipper. If that god isn't – if there is no moral compact – then your answer is "no", it's not betrayal.'