CHAPTER SIX
Dust wandered down in the direction of the docks, signs filling the world around him. In the flight of birds, he saw that this was the route he had to take. In the bubbling of a stream, he saw that he would have to pass over the sea.
Then there were the images of Royce that stayed in front of him whenever he closed his eyes.
They had been there ever since he had inhaled so much of the priests’ smoke, seeing future after future. He had seen what would happen if nothing altered, had seen the violence and the pain and the death.
“And I chose,” Dust said to himself. The oddness of that took a moment to sink in. He was Angarthim, one of those who walked the world, setting the futures as the priests saw that they were supposed to run, giving those who needed to die over to the da
