Fall of Light (The Kharkanas Trilogy, #2)

by Steven Erikson

what compensation should a civil state give to those who murdered in its name?’ ‘There was more to it than that,’ Horult objected. ‘They were saving the lives of loved ones, of innocents. They were standing between the helpless and those who wished them harm.’ ‘And does this act require compensation? More to the point, is not that act, of defence of the weak and the helpless, something that should be expected of every able adult? Indeed, are we not describing something we share with every beast and creature of this world? Will not a mother bear defend her cubs? Will not soldier ants die defending their nest and queen?’

When I left you, I left something of me behind.’ He hesitated, and then said, ‘When I went back to find it . . .’ He shook his head. ‘A loss that can never be recovered, never redressed.’ Pelk studied him, and then said, ‘Broken heart, Ivis. Heal it might, but the scar remains, and what you miss most is how it was before it broke, when that heart was whole. So, yes, you can’t get that back.’

she saw his smile transformed, revealing the love still alive in it, and for the first time in decades, she felt at peace. Just as I always said, the heart’s never in the place you think it is. But for all that, it’s good at waiting, when waiting is all there is.

‘You three will command a thousand each. You will array your eight cohorts into a flattened wedge and march to close. I expect we’ll hold a flank—’ ‘I will advise Lord Anomander that we take the centre,’ said Prazek. She lifted her gaze with an effort, studied him. ‘Why?’ ‘Should our side prevail, sir, it may be necessary for our flanking allies to turn on us.’

‘Our children play the hunt. To learn the ways. But once the first blood is on their hands, they stop play. They meet the eyes of the hunt as adults, not children.’ ‘Cruel necessity,’ said Hataras, nodding. ‘To give thanks to the spirit of the slain beast seeks to silence the terrible guilt within the hunter.’ Listar nodded. ‘I have heard of such practices. Among the Deniers.’ Vastala grunted. ‘Such gratitude is real,’ she said, ‘but if the hunter remains a child inside, the guilt is false. Only a hunter who is grown to an adult inside can understand the burden of such guilt. And knows that no animal spirit is appeased by its slayer’s gratitude.’

tilt the world, sway it from its inevitable path. But then, what are we but the narrators of time’s senseless plunge ahead, with us pilgrims ever eager to raise banners wherever we make a stand. Yes, see me work the knife into this frozen earth

we exist for the sole purpose of being witness to existence. This and this alone is our collective contribution to all that has been created. We serve to bring existence into being. Without eyes to see, nothing exists.’

Faith’s only enemy exists in the mind that calls it home. The only forces that can destroy faith are those the believer wields against him or herself.

I feel your grief at beauty lost, there in the mirror. And I would tell you otherwise, how your beauty is something no mirror could capture.

To war! The standards are raised! This is the secret joke, you see. When we all agree on insanity . . . it’s still insane!’

‘Take a man or a woman, strip away all the lies they tell themselves, until they stand naked unto themselves, their souls utterly exposed. Then, make them soldiers. Tell them to kill. Do you see? No armour can defend them. No sword can be other than what it is – a length of sharpened iron that steals lives.

Prisoners, criminals, dying in the name of a civilization that has cast them out. Too ill fitted to thrive, and now they die by the score.

It was the duty of one who failed in protecting anything to linger, kneeling in the ashes, and give some thought, once so much has been lost, to what little remains. Grizzin Farl was well experienced with this modest compensation. After all, if one could draw breath, then all was not lost. If one could find some remnant of hope, then the pain of grief was but transitory, and what burdens awaited settling would find shoulders capable of sustaining them.

You want a statement for your faith in me? You wish me to offer you the words you claim to need, the rules by which you are to live your lives? Very well, but I should warn you, every deity worthy of worship will offer you the same prescription. Here it is, then. Don’t hurt other people. In fact, don’t hurt anything capable of suffering. Don’t hurt the world you live in, either, or its myriad creatures. If gods and goddesses are to have any purpose at all, let us be the ones you must face for the crimes of your life. Let us be the answer to every unfeeling, callous, cruel act you committed, every hateful word you uttered, and every spiteful wound you delivered.’

I would value no opinion from my chosen weapon, merely a certain efficacy. Justice, should such a notion exist, must lie in the hand wielding the blade.’

Within the spacious chamber, lightness and darkness waged a belaboured contest, too sombre to be a battle, too desultory to be a war. This was a sullen acceptance, as of two powers recognizing the other’s necessity. Definition, Urusander might say, by opposition.