The Crippled God Read Online Free PDF Page B

the cage of a mortal life, this is our fate. Who do I blame? I blame the gods. And curse them with fire in my heart .
    ‘ When she comes to me, when she says that it’s time, I shall take my sword in hand. You say that I am a man of too few words, but against the sea of needs, words are weak as sand. Now, woman, tell me again of your boredom, this stretch of days and nights outside a city obsessed with mourning. I stand before you, eyes leaking with the grief of a dead friend, and all I get from you is a siege of silence .’
    She said , ‘ You have a damned miserable way of talking your way into my bed, Karsa Orlong. Fine then, get in. Just don’t break me .’
    ‘ I only break what I do not want .’
    ‘ And if the days of this relationship are numbered? ’
    ‘ They are ,’ he replied, and then he grinned . ‘ But not the nights .’
    Faintly, the distant city’s bells tolled their grief at the fall of darkness, and in the blue-lit streets and alleys, dogs howled .

    In the innermost chamber of the palace of the city’s lord, she stood in shadows, watching as he moved away from the hearth, brushing charcoal from his hands. There was no mistaking his legacy of blood, and it seemed the weight his father had borne was settling like an old cloak on his son’s surprisingly broad shoulders. She could never understand such creatures. Their willingness to martyrdom. The burdens by which they measured self-worth. This embrace of duty.
    He settled into the high-backed chair, stretched out his legs, the awakening fire’s flickering light licking the studs ringing his knee-high leather boots. Resting his head back, eyes closed, he spoke. ‘Hood knows how you managed to get in here, and I imagine Silanah’s hackles are lifting at this very moment, but if you are not here to kill me, there is wine on the table to your left. Help yourself.’
    Scowling, she edged out from the shadows. All at once the chamber seemed too small, its walls threatening to snap tight around her. To so willingly abandon the sky in favour of heavy stone and blackened timbers, no, she did not understand this at all. ‘Nothing but wine?’ Her voice cracked slightly, reminding her that it had been some time since she’d last used it.
    His elongated eyes opened and he observed her with unfeigned curiosity. ‘You prefer?’
    ‘Ale.’
    ‘Sorry. You will need to go to the kitchens below for that.’
    ‘Mare’s milk, then.’
    His brows lifted. ‘Down to the palace gate, turn left, walk half a thousand leagues. And that is just a guess, mind you.’
    Shrugging, she edged closer to the hearth. ‘The gift struggles.’
    ‘Gift? I do not understand.’
    She gestured at the flames.
    ‘Ah,’ he said, nodding. ‘Well, you stand in the breath of Mother Dark—’ and then he started. ‘Does she know you’re here? But then,’ he settled back again, ‘how could she not?’
    ‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked.
    ‘An Imass.’
    ‘I am Apsal’ara. His night within the Sword, his one night , he freed me. He had the time for that. For me.’ She found she was trembling.
    He was still studying her. ‘And so you have come here.’
    She nodded.
    ‘You didn’t expect that from him, did you?’
    ‘No. Your father – he had no reason for regret.’
    He rose then, walked over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. He stood with the cup in hand, staring down at it. ‘You know,’ he muttered, ‘I don’t even want this. The need … to do something.’ He snorted. ‘“No reason for regret”, well …’
    ‘They look for him – in you. Don’t they?’
    He grunted. ‘Even in my name you will find him. Nimander. No, I’m not his only son. Not even his favoured one – I don’t think he had any of those, come to think of it. Yet,’ and he gestured with the goblet, ‘there I sit, in his chair, before his fire. This palace feels like … feels like—’
    ‘His bones?’
    Nimander flinched, looked away. ‘Too many empty rooms,