The silence lengthened, then Bugg rubbed at the back of his neck. Without another word, he walked away.
A short time later, he approached the Azath tower. As he began crossing the street towards the front gate, a figure emerged from a nearby alley. Bugg halted.
‘Surprised to see you here,’ the man said as he drew nearer to the manservant. ‘But a momentary surprise. Thinking on it, where else would you be?’
Bugg grunted, then said, ‘I wondered when you’d finally stir yourself awake. If.’
‘Better late than never.’
‘Here to give things a nudge, are you?’
‘In a manner of speaking. And what about you?’
‘Well,’ Bugg considered, ‘that depends.’
‘On?’
‘You, I suppose.’
‘Oh, I’m just passing through,’ the man said.
Bugg studied him for a long moment, then cocked his head and asked, ‘So, how much of you was at the heart of this mess, I wonder? Feeding the queen’s greed, the prince’s estrangement from his father. Did the notion of the Seventh Closure simply amuse you?’
‘I but watched,’ the man replied, shrugging. ‘Human nature is responsible, as ever. That is not a burden I am willing to accept, especially from you.’
‘All right. But here you are, about to take a far more active role…’
‘This goes back, old man. Edur or human, I do not want to see a revisiting of the T’lan Imass.’
After a moment, Bugg nodded. ‘The Pack. I see. I have never liked you much, but this time I am afraid I have to agree with you.’
‘That warms my heart.’
‘To be so benignly judged? I suppose it would at that.’
He laughed, then, with a careless wave, walked past Bugg.
The problem with gods, Bugg decided, was the way they ended up getting dragged along. Wherever their believers went. This one had vanished from memory everywhere else, as extinct as the Holds themselves.
So. T’lan Imass, the Pack, and the coming of the Jheck. Soletaken worshippers of their ancient lord, and, from the potential resurrection of that ancient cult, a possible return of the T’lan Imass, to expunge the madness.
What had driven him to act now, then? In this particular matter? The answer came to Bugg, and he smiled without humour. It’s called guilt.
A metallic tapping woke Tehol Beddict. He sat up, looked round. It was nearing late afternoon. The tapping was repeated and he glanced over to see his bodyguard, weapon drawn, standing at the roof’s edge on the alley side. The man gestured him over.
Climbing gingerly from the rickety bed, Tehol tiptoed to the bodyguard’s side.
Down in the alley below a shape was crawling along beneath a stained tarp of some sort. Slow but steady progress towards the corner.
‘I admit,’ Tehol said, ‘it’s a curious thing. But sufficient cause to wake me up? Ah, there I have doubts. The city is full of crawling things, after all. Well, on a normal day, that is. Here we are, however, so perhaps it might be amusing if we follow its tortured journey.’
The shape reached the corner, then edged round it.
Tehol and his companion tracked it from above. Along the wall, then into the aisle leading to the entrance to Tehol’s house.
‘Ah, it is paying us a visit. Whatever it’s selling, I’m not sure I want any. We are facing a conundrum, my friend. You know how I hate being rude. Then again, what if it is selling some horrible disease?’
It reached the doorway, slipped inside.
The bodyguard walked to the hatch and looked down. After a moment, Tehol followed. As he peered over he heard a familiar voice call up.
‘Tehol. Get down here.’
‘Shurq?’
A gesturing shape in the gloom.
‘Best wait here,’ Tehol said to his guard. ‘I think she wants privacy. You can keep an eye on the entrance from up here, right? Excellent. I’m glad we’re agreed.’ He climbed down the ladder.
‘I have a problem,’ she said when he reached the floor.
‘Anything I can do for you, Shurq, I shall. Did you know you have a spike of some sort in your forehead?’
‘That’s my problem, you idiot.’
‘Ah. Would you like me to pull it out?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tehol.’
‘Not worse, surely, than leaving it there.’
‘The issue is not as clear as it appears to be,’ Shurq said. ‘Something is holding it. It’s not nearly as loose as one would hope.’
‘Are you concentrating on it?’
She said nothing.
He hastily added, ‘Maybe it’s bent or something.’
‘It goes through to the back of my skull. There may be a flange of some sort.’
‘Why not push it right through?’
‘And leave the back of my head in pieces?’
‘Well, the only other possibility I can think of at the moment, Shurq, is to pull it out a little bit, saw it off, then push what’s left back in. Granted, you’d have a hole, but you could take to wearing a bandanna or head-scarf, at least until we visit Selush.’
‘Not bad. But what if it starts clunking around in my head? Besides, bandannas are pathetically out of date as far as fashion goes. I would be mortified to be seen in public.’
‘Selush might well have a solution to that, Shurq. A stopper with a diamond in it, or a patch of skin sewn over the hole.’
‘A diamond-studded plug. I like that.’
‘You’ll launch a new trend.’
‘Do you think Ublala will like it, Tehol?’
‘Of course he will. As for the clunking, well, that’s a definite problem. But it seems evident that you’re not using your brain. I mean, that physical stuff in there. Your soul is simply making use of the body, right? Probably out of a sense of familiarity. Given that, maybe we could pull it out—’
‘No, I like the idea of sawing it. And the diamond stopper. That sounds good. Now, can you bring Selush here?’
‘Right now?’
‘Well, as soon as possible. I don’t like walking around with it the way it is. Tell her I will pay for the inconvenience.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Needless to say, I’m miserable.’
‘Of course you are, Shurq.’
‘And I want Ublala. I want him now.’
‘I understand—’
‘No you don’t. I said I want him now. But that’s impossible. So you’ll have to do.’
‘Me? Oh dear. Does it bite?’
‘Only one way to find out, Tehol Beddict. Get out of those stupid clothes.’
‘So long as you don’t poke my eye out.’
‘Don’t make me—oh, right. I’ll be careful. I promise.’
‘Just so long as you understand, Shurq, I normally don’t do this with my employees. Especially dead ones.’
‘I don’t see why you had to bring that up. It’s not like I can help it.’
‘I know. But it’s, uh, well…’
‘Creepy?’
‘You’re lovely and all that, I mean, Selush was brilliant—the best work she’s ever done.’
‘Think how I feel, Tehol? Errant knows, you’re no Ublala.’
‘Why, thank you.’
‘Now, take your clothes off. I’m sure it won’t take long anyway.’
The street was mostly unobstructed, allowing Moroch Nevath to make good time on his approach to the old palace. His horse would probably never fully recover from the journey down from High Fort. There was a Bluerose trainer in the palace, he had heard—although he had never seen the man—who was said to heal horses. If he found the time, he might hunt him down.
A figure stepped into the street ahead.
Recognizing the man, Moroch reined in. ‘Turudal Brizad.’
‘Finadd. I barely recognized you.’
‘You’re not alone in that, First Consort. Now, I am off to report to the Preda.’
‘You will find h
er in the throne room. Finadd, I may have need of you shortly.’
Moroch scowled. ‘For what?’
The man smiled. ‘Specifically, your skill with the sword.’
‘Who do you want me to kill, Brizad? Some irate husband, an outraged wife? I think Gerun Eberict would better suit your requirements in such matters.’
‘I wish it were that simple, Finadd. Ideally, I would seek out Brys Beddict, but he has other tasks before him—’
‘So do I.’
‘The Preda will assign you to protection of the Royal Household, such as it is—’
‘That is the task of the King’s Champion.’
‘Yes. Meaning you will find yourself with some time on your hands.’
Moroch’s scowl deepened. ‘I intend to accompany the Preda when she marches, First Consort.’
Turudal sighed. ‘You are no longer trusted, Finadd. You failed both the prince and the queen. It would have been preferable had you died in the endeavour at High Fort.’
‘I was injured. Separated from my charges. I could not even find them once the battle commenced—’
‘Tragic, Finadd, but such stones make no splash on a frozen lake. What I offer you is an opportunity for redemption, for your name to be hailed in history. I am certain, Moroch Nevath, that you will receive no comparable offer from anyone else.’
The Finadd studied the man standing before him. He’d always made Moroch’s skin crawl. Too slick, too perfumed. Too smug. Now more than ever. ‘There is nothing you can offer me—’
‘Finadd, I want you to kill a god.’
Moroch sneered, said nothing.
Turudal Brizad smiled, then said, ‘The god of the Jheck. And where can you find this god? Why, here in the city. Waiting for the arrival of its savage worshippers.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Kill the god, Moroch Nevath, and the Tiste Edur will lose their allies.’
‘We will speak more on this,’ the Finadd said in a growl. ‘But for now, I must go.’
‘Of course. You have my sympathies, by the way. I know you could have done nothing to save Quillas or Janall—
‘Save your breath, First Consort.’ Moroch snapped the reins, sending his horse forward, forcing Turudal Brizad to step aside hastily to avoid being knocked down.
Bugg found Kettle hunched against the door of the tower. She was shivering, knees drawn up, her head down.
‘Child?’
A muffled reply. ‘Go away.’
He crouched beside her. ‘How bad is it?’
‘I’m hungry. My stomach hurts. The bites itch.’
‘You’re alive, then.’ He saw her head nod. ‘And you’d rather be dead.’ Another nod. ‘We need to get you some new clothes. Some food, and water. We need to find you shelter—you can’t stay here any longer.’
‘But I have to! He needs my help!’
Bugg rose. ‘I think I’ll walk the grounds.’
‘Don’t. It’s too dangerous.’
‘I’ll be all right, lass. No need to worry about Grandfather Bugg. And then I’ll come back here, and you and I will head to the Downs Market.’
She looked up then, regarded him with red-rimmed eyes that looked far older than the rest of her face. ‘I have no money.’
‘Me neither,’ Bugg said, smiling. ‘But a lot of people owe me.’
He headed into the grounds. The earth was hot beneath his worn sandals. Most of the insects had died or moulted, their bodies crunching underfoot. Withered roots had been pushed to the surface, split and peeling. Stained fragments of bone were visible, pieces of skull and fractured long-bones, the occasional oversized vertebra. The crumpled remains of barrows were on all sides.
So much history had been lost, destroyed beneath this steaming earth. A good thing, too, since most of it was unpleasant. Unfortunately, a few hoary nightmares remained. The meanest of the lot, in fact.
And one of them had sworn to help. Against the others.
All in all, Bugg decided, not a promising situation.
‘A stranger among us.’
He halted, frowning. ‘Who speaks?’
‘My brothers welcome you. I welcome you. Come closer. Hold out your hand, draw us forth. Your rewards will be endless.’
‘So will my regret. No, I’m afraid I cannot oblige you, Toblakai.’
‘You have taken one step too many, stranger. It is too late. You we shall use—’
A surge of power, rushing into Bugg’s mind, seeking domination—then gone.
‘No. Not you. Come no closer.’
‘I am sorry you found me so unpalatable.’
‘Go away.’
‘You and your brothers are in for a fight,’ Bugg said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
‘We cannot be defeated.’
‘Oh, how often those words are spoken. How many of your fellow prisoners said much the same, at one time or another? Always the conceit of the moment.’
‘None of this is your concern.’
‘You are right, none of it is. But you should be warned, the child, Kettle, is not to be harmed.’
‘She is nothing to us.’
‘Good. Make sure it stays that way.’
‘Be careful with your threats, stranger.’
‘Ah. You don’t understand, do you? Attack the child, and the one hiding within her will awaken. And that one will annihilate you, and probably everyone else just for good measure.’
‘Who is it that hides within the child?’
‘Its name? I don’t know. But it is Forkrul Assail.’
‘You are lying.’
The manservant shrugged, swung about and made his way back to where Kettle waited. There was time still, he decided, to go shopping.
King Ezgara Diskanar sat on his throne, motionless, pale as dusted marble, the lids of his eyes half lowered as he regarded First Eunuch Nifadas. The scene belonged to an artist, Brys decided. Heavy with gravitas, the colours dark and saturated, a great fall imminent. All here, in this frozen moment. The Eve before the Seventh Closure, the painter might call it, with quiet pleasure at the multitude of meanings hidden in the title.
But there was no artist, no vulture to sit on the wings of civilization’s tottering construct, red-eyed and clucking. The audience consisted of Brys, First Concubine Nisall, Preda Unnutal Hebaz and four of the King’s Guard.
The sun had dropped low enough outside to send shafts of lurid light through the stained glass panels set in the dome, brushing the motes with ugly hues. The air smelled of sweat and lantern smoke.
‘And this,’ King Ezgara finally said, ‘is what awaits my people.’
The First Eunuch’s small eyes blinked. ‘Sire, the soldiers do not welcome the notion of new overlords. They will fight to defend you.’
‘I have seen scant evidence of that thus far, Nifadas.’
The Preda spoke to that. ‘Sire, it quickly became evident that we could not match the enemy in the traditional manner, given the sorcery available to them. It was tactically incumbent that we withdraw, avoiding engagement—’
‘But now our backs are to the city’s wall, Preda.’
‘With time to prepare, as we have been doing since the first unit arrived at Brans Keep. Sire, we have never before fielded such a large army as that which is assembling there right now. Over two thousand trebuchets, fifteen hundred mangonels and three hundred triple-mounted Dresh ballistae. We have dug pits, trenches, traps. The mages have woven rituals across the entire battlefield. Our auxiliaries alone number over ten thousand—’
‘Untrained fodder, Preda. A terrible waste of citizenry. Are they even armed?’
‘Spears and shields, sire. Leather armour.’
The king leaned back. ‘Nifadas. Still no word on the fate of my wife and son?’
‘Our emissaries do not return, sire.’
‘What does he want with them?’
‘I am at a loss to answer that,’ the First Eunuch admitted. ‘This Tiste Edur emperor is…unpredic
table. Sire, despite the Preda’s confidence, I believe it would be wise to begin plans for your temporary displacement—’
‘My what?’
‘Leaving Letheras, sire. Southeast, perhaps. Tallis on the Isle, or Truce.’
‘No.’
‘Sire—’
‘Nifadas, if I am to fall, then it will be here. I shall not bring destruction upon other cities, for it is destruction my presence will invite. The protectorates, should I be usurped, will fall in line. Peacefully, with no loss of life. This Tiste Edur emperor shall have his empire. For myself, if I must die, it will be here, on this very throne. Or, rather,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘on the one in the Eternal Domicile.’
Silence. Then the Preda turned slowly to face Brys.
He returned her regard dispassionately. The king had made his wishes known. If he would die on his throne, then his Champion would of necessity already be dead. There was no other path to Ezgara Diskanar, after all.
‘It is my intention, sire,’ Unnutal said, ‘that the situation you describe does not arise. The Tiste Edur will be thrown back. Beaten and broken.’
‘As you say,’ the king replied.
These were not new considerations for Brys. Ever since the first defeats up north, he had been thinking about a final stand before his king. The passage leading into the throne room in the Eternal Domicile was relatively narrow. With four of his best guards he felt he could hold it for some time. But without relief his death would be inevitable. The least palatable thought of all, however, was the possibility of dying beneath sorcery. Against which he had no defence. The Ceda’s seeming descent into madness was the most painful blow of all. Should the enemy reach the palace, the loss of Kuru Qan would be decisive.
Brys wanted to die honourably, but he was helpless to choose, and that stung.
The doors opened behind him and he turned to see a guard step inside.
‘What now?’ the king asked.
‘Finadd Gerun Eberict, my lord,’ the guard announced.
‘Very well.’
The man entered and bowed before the king. ‘Sire, I apologize for arriving late. There were household affairs to attend to—’
‘Taking precedence over an audience with your king, Finadd?’
‘Sire, in my absence my estate was broken into.’
‘I am grieved to hear that.’
The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen Page 438