End of Part 1.
Kellhus is working his 'magic' on Athjeari.
They come upon two men engaged in a traditional Galeoth martial art called gandoki (or shadows). To win you must knock your shadow to the ground. There's probably some deeper meaning that could be inferred from this.
'Sarcellus' turns up, but of course,
...Sarcellus, the real Sarcellus was dead. What stood here in his stead was a beast of some kind, an exquisitely trained animal. It had wrenched Sarcellus from his place and had assumed all he once was. It had robbed him even of his death.
No murder could be more total.
Nasty.
Kellhus reads the skin-spy.
The thing called Sarcellus fairly trembled with ardour. These things hungered, Kellhus realised. They ached.
Of all the rude animal impulses that coerced and battered the intellect, none possessed the subtlety or profundity of carnal lust. In some measure, it tinctured nearly every thought, impelled nearly every act. This was what made Serwe so invaluable. Without realising, every man at Xinemus' fire - with the exception of the Scyvendi - knew they best wooed her by pandering to Kellhus. And they could naught but woo her.
But Sarcellus, it was clear, ached for a different species of congress. One involving suffering and violence. Like the Sranc, these skin-spies continually yearned to rut with their knives. They shared the same maker, one who harnessed the venal beast within their slaves, sharpened it as one might a spear point.
The Consult.
So is Kellhus subject to the demands of carnal lust then? Or does Dunyain training allow one to overcome or subdue it?
More on the way the Consult use lust, which has been strongly implied earlier.
Kellhus tries to trick the skin-spy in to thinking the previous Sarcellus has betrayed itself to him. It drags him in to the gandoki ring.
"We are old, Anasurimbor, very, very, old. Age is power in this world."
He was bound to a beast, Kellhus realised, to something, according to Achamian, begot in the bowels of Golgotterath. An abomination of the Old Science, the Tekne... Possibilities bloomed, like branches twining through the open air of the improbable.
It has preternatural reflexes, and is very strong. Just like a Dunyain.
The skin-spy means to kill Kellhus, but he defeats it by lifting into the air, causing the poles to break, and then knock it over (lifts it up to knock it down).
Bones should have been broken. But then, Kellhus now knew, it was a thing without bones, a thing of cartilage...
Like a shark
Saubon is in his tent with Athjeari, distraught. He will not see Kellhus.
"As you wish," his nephew murmured. Glancing once again at the bones prodding through the earth, he withdrew through the leather flaps.
Bones. Like so many little tusks.
Men have bones. At Mengedda the earth itself has bones, which are compared to tusks - i.e. a clear religious/ spiritual analogy. Skin-spies have no bones, and therefore presumably no relation to the Gods.
Eleazaras talks with Iyokus. Iyokus suggests visiting the ruins. Eli thinks
antiquarianism a defect of character proper to Mandate Schoolmen.
Eleazaras decides that he will conserve his strength and continue to allow the Men of the Tusk to kill Cishaurim - to maintain the power of the Scarlet Spires.
They discuss Achamian and his link to the skin-spy found in Momemn. Iyokus is sceptical that Akka can be interrogated.
Eleazaras can only see his own self-interest - he is contemptuous of the Mandate and cannot conceive that the Consult might be real.
Esmenet is having a wonderful time in the hills with Akka. She cleans his mouldy satchel. She finds his 'map', which he then explains to her.
She wants to know why he has stopped.
"I know what you're supposed to do, Akka. In Sumna, you were constantly out, making inquiries, courting informants. Either that, or you were waiting on some news. You were constantly spying. But not any more... Not since you brought me to your tent.
She knows she is not the reason, but
How I love you.
Kellhus is the reason of course.
For a time Kellhus had been a troubling figure, but he'd soon become intriguing, someone warm, welcoming and mysterious - a man who promised pleasant surprises. Then at some point he'd become towering, someone who overshadowed all others - like a noble and indulgent father, or a great king breaking bread with his slaves. And now, even more so in his absence, he'd become a shining figure. A beacon of some kind. Something they must follow, if only because all else was so dark...
What is he? she wanted to say, but looked speechlessly to her lover instead.
To her husband.
Pretty much sums up about three-quarters of the plot of both series
. And does it give pointers towards series three?
Meanwhile the Holy War is back on the march.
Like the shadows of truly mountainous clouds, they darkened the plain, great columns of them, theor arms winking like powdered diamond in the sunlight.
"The Holy War," Achamian said, rigid with what could only be awe.
Breathing hurt, or so it seemed. She glimpsed cohorts of knights, hundreds, even thousands, strong, and great files of infantrymen, as long as entire cities. She saw baggage-trains, rows of wains no bigger than grains of sand. And she saw banner after fluttering banner bearing the devices of a thousand Houses, each embroidered with silken Tusks...
... Thousands upon thousands. With the ponderousness of distant things, they encompassed the nearer reaches of the plain. They moved, she thought, like wine bleeding through wool.
How could so many be bent to one dreadful purpose? One place. One city.
Shimeh...
... "Like my dreams," he said.
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