The Darkness That Comes Before by R. Scott Bakker

Author:R. Scott Bakker
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Science-Fiction
ISBN: 9781590201183
Publisher: Overlook Press
Published: 2008-09-15T10:00:00+00:00

“If you were drunk,” Xinemus said, answering his move decisively, “I might understand why you did that.”

How could he make jokes? Achamian stared at the patterns across the plate, realizing that the rules had shifted yet again—this time disastrously. He searched for options but saw none.

Xinemus smiled, winningly and began paring his nails with a knife. “Proyas will feel the same way,” he said, “when he finally arrives.” Something in his tone made Achamian look up.

“Why’s that?”

“You’ve heard of the recent disaster.”

“What disaster?”

“The Vulgar Holy War has been destroyed.”

“What?” Achamian had heard talk of the Vulgar Holy War before leaving Sumna. Weeks ago, before the arrival of the bulk of the Holy War, a number of great lords from Galeoth, Conriya, and High Ainon had decided to march against the heathen on their own. The moniker “vulgar” had been given to them because of the hosts of lordless rabble that followed. It had never occurred to Achamian to ask how it fared. It’s started. The bloodshed has started.

“On the Plains of Mengedda,” Xinemus continued. “The heathen Sapatishah, Skauras, sent the tarred heads of Tharschilka, Kumrezzer, and Calmemunis to the Emperor as a warning.”

“Calmemunis? You mean Proyas’s cousin?”

“Arrogant, headstrong fool! I begged him not to march, Akka. I reasoned, I shouted, I even grovelled—abased myself like a fool!—but the dog wouldn’t listen.”

Achamian had met Calmemunis once, in the court of Proyas’s father. Outrageous conceit coupled with stupidity—enough to make Achamian wince. “Aside from thinking the God Himself stirred him, why do you think he marched?”

“Because he knew once Proyas arrived, he’d be little more than a fawning lapdog. He’s never forgiven Proyas for the incident at Paremti.”

“The Battle of Paremti? What happened?”

“You don’t know? I’ve forgotten how long it’s been, old friend. I’ve much gossip to share.”

“Later,” Achamian said. “Tell me what happened at Paremti.”

“Proyas had Calmemunis whipped.”

“Whipped?” This concerned Achamian deeply. Had his old student changed so much? “For cowardice?”

As though he shared Achamian’s concern, Xinemus’s face darkened. “No. For impiety.”

“You jest. Proyas had a peer whipped for impiety? How far has his fanaticism gone, Zin?”

“Too far,” Xinemus said quickly, as though ashamed for his lord. “But for a brief time only. I was sorely disappointed in him, Akka. Heartbroken that the godlike child you and I had taught had grown to be a man of such . . . extremes.”

Proyas had been a godlike child. Over the four years he had spent as court tutor in the Conriyan capital of Aöknyssus, Achamian had fallen in love with the boy—even more than with his legendary mother. Sweet memories. Strolling through sunlit foyers and along murky garden paths, discussing history, logic, and mathematics, and answering a never-ending cataract of questions . . .

“Master Achamian? Where have all the dragons gone?”

“The dragons are within us, young Proyas. Within you.”

The knitted brow. The hands clenched in frustration. Yet another indirect answer from his tutor.

“So there are no more dragons in the world, Master Achamian?”

“You’re in the world, Proyas, are you not?”

Xinemus had been

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