‘Of course not-’
‘For each kind of beast there is a first such beast, more different from its parents than the rest of its kin, from which a new breed in due course emerges. Is this firstborn then a god?’
‘You spoke of a wolf god,’ Skintick said. ‘You began to tell us a story.’
‘So I did. But you must be made to understand. It is a question of essences. To see a wolf and know it as pure, one must possess an image in oneself of a pure wolf, a perfect wolf.’
‘Ridiculous,’ Kallor grunted. ‘See a strange beast and someone tells you it is a wolf-and from this one memory, and perhaps a few more to follow, you have fashioned your image of a wolf. In my empires, philosophers spewed such rubbish for centuries, until, of course, I grew tired of them and had them tortured and executed.’
A strange muffled noise came from the hunched-over Jaghut. Nimander saw the shoulders shaking and realized the ancient was laughing.
‘I have killed a few Jaghut,’ Kallor said; not a boast, simply a statement. A warning.
‘The tea is ready,’ the Jaghut said, pouring dark liquid into four clay cups that Nimander had not noticed before. ‘You might wonder what I was doing when thewolf god found me, I was living. In disguise. We had gathered to imprison a tyrant, until our allies tumed upon us and resumed the slaughter. I believe I may be cursed to ever be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘T’lan Amass allies,’ Kallor said. ‘Too bad they never found you.’
‘Kron, the clan of Bek’athana Ilk who dwelt in the Cliffs Above the Angry Sea. forty-three hunters and a Bonecaster. They found me.’
Skintick squatted to pick up two of the cups, straightening to hand one to Nimander. The steam rising from the tea was heady, hinting of mint and cloves and something else. The taste numbed his tongue.
‘Where is mine?’ Kallor demanded. ‘If I must listen to this creature I will drink his tea.’
Smiling, Skintick pointed down to where the cups waited on the ground.
Another soft laugh from the Jaghut. ‘Raest was the name of the Tyrant we defeated. One of my more obnoxiously arrogant offspring. I did not mourn his fall. In any case, unlike Raest, I was never the strutting kind. It is a sign of weakness to shine blinding bright with one’s own power. Pathetic diffidence. A need that undermines. I was more… secure.’