No, perhaps he could.
He smelled woodsmoke.
Startled, alarmed, he turned away from the rush of the river. Faced upstream whence came the late afternoon breeze. There, in distant gloom, the muted glow of a campfire.
With a sour grunt, Endest Silann began walking upstream. At the very least, the fire would warm his hands.
Thirty paces away, he could see the lone figure facing the smoky flames. Huge, round-shouldered, seated on a fallen log. And Endest Silann smiled in recognition.
Two trout speared on skewers cooked above the fire. A pot of simmering tea sat with one blackened shoulder banked in coals. Two tin cups warmed on the flat rock making up one side of the hearth.
Another log waited opposite the one on which sat the warlord, Caladan Brood, who slowly twisted round to watch Endest Silann approach. The broad, oddly bestial face split into a wry smile. ‘Of all the guests I imagined this night, old friend, you did not come to mind. Forgive me. You took your time since begin shy;ning your descent into this valley, but for that I will happily make allowances — but do not complain if the fish is overcooked.’
‘Complaints are far away and will remain so, Caladan. You have awakened my appetite — for food, drink and, most of all, company.’
‘Then sit, make yourself comfortable.’
‘So you did indeed disband your army after the siege,’ said Endest Silann, making his way over to settle himself down. ‘There were rumours. Of course, my master said nothing.’
‘See me now,’ said the warlord, ‘commanding an army of wet stones, and yes, it proves far less troublesome than the last one. Finally, I can sleep soundly at night. Although, matching wits with these trout has challenged me mightily. There, take one of those plates, and here — beware the bones, though,’ he added as he set a fish on the plate.
‘Alone here, Caladan Brood — it makes me wonder if you are hiding.’
‘It may be that I am, Endest Silann. Unfortunately, hiding never works.’
‘No, it never does.’
Neither spoke for a time as they ate their supper. The trout was indeed overdone but Endest Silann said nothing, for it was delicious none the less.
If Anomander Rake was a mystery shrouded in darkness, then Caladan Brood was one clothed in geniality. Spare with words, he nevertheless could make virtually anyone feel welcome and, indeed, appreciated. Or rather, he could when the pressures of command weren’t crouched on his shoulders like a damned mountain. This night, then, Endest Silann well understood, was a gift, all the more precious in that it was wholly unexpected.
When the meal was done, night’s arrival closed out the world beyond the fire’s light. The rush of the river was a voice, a presence. Water flowed indifferent to the heave and plunge of the sun, the shrouded moon and the slow spin of the stars. The sound reached them in a song without words, and all effort to grasp its meaning was hopeless, for, like the water itself, one could not grasp hold of sound. The flow was ceaseless and immeasurable and just as stillness did not in fact exist, so too true, absolute silence.
‘Why are you here?’ Endest Silann asked after a time.
‘I wish I could answer you, old friend, and Burn knows the desire to ease the burden is almost overwhelming.’
‘You are assuming, Caladan, that I am ignorant of what awaits us.’
‘No, I do not do that — after all, you have sought a pilgrimage, out to this river — and among the Tiste Andii, this place has proved a mysterious lure. Yet you ask why I am here, and so your knowledge must be. . incomplete. Endest Silann, I cannot say more. I cannot help you.’
