‘How can a skull be returned to life?’ asked Arik Ironlatch.
‘He is Seidh,’ the Dweller replied. ‘I do not understand all their powers. What I do know is that he will need to be brought into the north, to the lands he once ruled. Perhaps he needs the blood of the Rigante to regenerate himself. I do not know. What I do know is that we must oppose him. We must stop him, as Rigantis once stopped him.’
‘That is all very well, Dweller,’ said Bael, ‘but can it be done?’ In his late twenties Bael had put on weight, and looked much like his father, Call Jace. He had a strong jaw, and deep set eyes, and his manner radiated authority.
‘It is not a question of whether it can be done,’ answered the Dweller. ‘Merely that it must be attempted.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he told her. ‘If we can’t win, then what is the point of sacrificing ourselves?’
‘We are the Rigante, Bael. We have always stood against evil. It is our fate and our destiny. We are the Children of the Seidh, the Guardians of the Land. You think Connavar would not have fought Cernunnos? You think Bane would have turned his back on the fight because he could not win? Jaim Grymauch could not win when he marched into the cathedral square to rescue Maev Ring. Fifty soldiers against one clansman? He did not know that the crowd would grab and hold the guards. He went to that square because he had to, because he was Rigante.’
Bael shook his head. ‘I do not dispute that we are a brave and noble people. I believe that in my soul. Cernunnos, however, is a Seidh, and we have always worshipped the Seidh. He is also, Dweller, by your own account, the Father of the Rigante. He made us. What if you are wrong? What if he wishes to come north to lead us again? Perhaps the golden age you spoke of will be found in his service.’
‘Aye, he would promise that,’ said the Dweller. ‘Perhaps for some around this table it would even prove to be true. You could become the new Dezhem Bek. Long-lived, free of disease, your every wish made reality. Gold trickling through your fingers, beautiful women obeying your every whim. Does it sound good, Bael?’
‘Of course.’
‘You think evil corrupts men by saying come with me and I will turn you into a merciless killer, and damn your soul for eternity? Who would agree to such a bargain? Evil corrupts, Bael, by promising us what we want, and telling us that it is good. Evil talks of the end justifying the means. It speaks of distant goals – aye, and of golden ages. It seduces, Bael. It does not threaten. Not at first. So how do we judge the merits of Cernunnos? We look at the realities. His first reign was one of blood and terror, and mass destruction. And what since? The first Dezhem Bek were killers, plunging the world into war. The next? Winter Kay and his Redeemers, torturing, burning, wiping out whole villages, slaying men, women and children. These are the followers of Cernunnos.’
‘With respect, Dweller,’ said Bael, ‘we have only your word that any of this . . . history … is true.’
His words stunned the Dweller. She looked at him and could find nothing to say.
‘You think the Dweller would lie?’ put in Rayster, his face ashen. ‘You will withdraw that, Bael. Instantly!’
‘I am not saying anything of the kind,’ snapped Bael. ‘What I am saying is that one woman’s view of world history is not necessarily accurate. She was not there during the time of Cernunnos, nor at the coming of these Dezhem Bek. These are men who have sought to use the skull for their own ends. It does not make the skull evil, any more than a sword is evil. It is the man who wields it.’
‘I trust the Dweller,’ said Arik Ironlatch. ‘If she says we must fight, then we must fight.’
‘I agree,’ said Rayster.
‘I am with Bael on this,’ said Korrin Talis. ‘What do you say, Kaelin?’