Jack of Ravens

9

Black thoughts filled Church’s head as Dian Cecht led him into a gleaming atrium. In one corner, a man cowered.

‘Tom?’ Church said.

The Rhymer looked ten years older than the last time Church had seen him.

‘We found True Thomas wandering beyond the walls,’ Dian Cecht said. ‘How could we not offer such an old friend our hospitality? True Thomas has revisited many acquaintances and many fondly recalled parts of the court.’

Church helped Tom to his feet. The Rhymer was shaking. ‘Are you all right?’ Church asked him, concerned, but Tom couldn’t find a voice to answer. Dian Cecht showed them to the door.

‘You are both friends of the Court of the Final Word and I hope you will feel free to return at any time.’ To Church, he said, ‘And you, Brother of Dragons, have seen and learned much this day. I hope it enriches your life and guides you on your future path.’

Church and Tom left without a backward glance. The despair that had infected Church’s heart so long ago spread quickly through his system. He thought of Eleanor Dare and her daughter, victims of an uncaring universe that heaped suffering on good people, and he considered how powerless he had been to prevent their fate. But more than anything he thought of what he had seen in the Court of the Final Word. Its horrors ate through his mind, beating down any hope he had for a better world. The sheer scale of the pain inflicted dwarfed any goodness that glimmered in humanity. Hope was an aberration. That sick cruelty was the true state of being.

By the time they had set off on horseback, the black despair had infected every part of him. ‘Everything I’ve done has been pointless,’ he said. ‘I might as well have died in Carn Euny.’

Tom said nothing.

‘We need to make a detour on the way back.’ Church urged his horse on into the night.