The First Empire had met foes who would not bend a knee. This was, for Feather Witch, the most important truth of all, one that had been conveniently and deliberately forgotten. She had gained strength from that, but such details were themselves but confirmation of discoveries she had already made – out in the vast world beyond. There had been clashes, fierce seafarers who took exception to a foreign fleet’s invading their waters. Letherii and Edur ships had gone down, figures amidst flotsam-filled waves, arms raised in hopeless supplication – the heave and swirl of sharks, dhenrabi and other mysterious predators of the deep – screams, piteous screams, they still echoed in her head, writhing at the pit of her stomach. Revulsion and glee both.
The storms that had battered the fleet, especially west of the Draconean Sea, had revealed the true immensity of natural power, its fickle thrashings that swallowed entire ships – there was delight in being so humbled, coming upon her with the weight of revelation. The Lether Empire was puny – like Uruth Sengar, it held to airs of greatness when it was but one more pathetic hovel of cowering mortals.
She would not regret destroying it.
Huddled now in her favoured chamber, the ceiling overhead a cracked dome, its plaster paintings obscured by stains and mould, Feather Witch sat herself down cross-legged and drew out a small leather pouch. Within, her most precious possession. She could feel its modest length through the thin hide, the protuberances, the slightly ragged end, and, opposite, the curl of a nail that had continued growing. She wanted to draw it out, to touch once again its burnished skin—
‘Foolish little girl.’
Hissing, Feather Witch flinched back from the doorway. A twisted, malformed figure occupied the threshold – she had not seen it in a long time, had almost forgotten – ‘Hannan Mosag. I do not answer to you. And if you think me weak—’
‘Oh no,’ wheezed the Warlock King, ‘not that. I chose my word carefully when I said “foolish”. I know you have delved deep into your Letherii magic. You have gone far beyond casting those old, chipped tiles of long ago, haven’t you? Even Uruth has no inkling of your Cedance – you did well to disguise your learning. Yet, for all that, you are still a fool, dreaming of all that you might achieve – when in truth you are alone.’
‘What do you want? If the Emperor were to learn that you’re skulking around down here—’
‘He will learn nothing. You and I, Letherii, we can work together. We can destroy that abomination—’
‘With yet another in his place – you.’
‘Do you truly think I would have let it come to this? Rhulad is mad, as is the god who controls him. They must be expunged.’
‘I know your hunger, Hannan Mosag—’
‘You do not!’ the Edur snapped, a shudder taking him. He edged closer into the chamber, then held up a mangled hand. ‘Look carefully upon me, woman. See what the Chained One’s sorcery does to the flesh – oh, we are bound now to the power of chaos, to its taste, its seductive flavour. It should never have come to this—’
‘So you keep saying,’ she cut in with a sneer. ‘And how would the great empire of Hannan Mosag have looked? A rain of flowers onto every street, every citizen freed of debt, with the benign Tiste Edur overseeing it all?’ She leaned forward. ‘You forget, I was born among your people, in your very tribe, Warlock King. I remember going hungry during the unification wars. I remember the cruelty you heaped upon us slaves – when we got too old, you used us as bait for beskra crabs – threw our old ones into a cage and dropped it over the side of your knarri. Oh, yes, drowning was a mercy, but the ones you didn’t like you kept their heads above the tide line, you let the crabs devour them alive, and laughed at the screams. We were muscle and when that muscle was used up, we were meat.’
‘And is Indebtedness any better—’
‘No, for that is a plague that spreads to every family member, every generation.’
Hannan Mosag shook his misshapen head. ‘I would not have succumbed to the Chained One. He believed he was using me, but I was using him. Feather Witch, there would have been no war. No conquest. The tribes were joined as one – I made certain of that. Prosperity and freedom from fear awaited us, and in that world the lives of the slaves would have changed. Perhaps, indeed, the lives of Letherii among the Tiste Edur would have proved a lure to the Indebted in the southlands, enough to shatter the spine of this empire, for we would have offered freedom.’
She turned away, deftly hiding the small leather bag. ‘What is the point of this, Hannan Mosag?’
‘You wish to bring down Rhulad—’
‘I will bring you all down.’
‘But it must begin with Rhulad – you can see that. Unless he is destroyed, and that sword with him, you can achieve nothing.’
‘If you could have killed him, Warlock King, you would have done so long ago.’
‘Oh, but I will kill him.’
She glared across at him. ‘How?’
‘Why, with his own family.’
Feather Witch was silent for a dozen heartbeats. ‘His father cowers in fear. His mother cannot meet his eyes. Binadas and Trull are dead, and Fear has fled.’
‘Binadas?’ The breath hissed slowly from Hannan Mosag. ‘I did not know that.’
‘Tomad dreamed of his son’s death, and Hanradi Khalag quested for his soul – and failed.’
The Warlock King regarded her with hooded eyes. ‘And did my K’risnan attempt the same of Trull Sengar?’
‘No, why would he? Rhulad himself murdered Trull. Chained him in the Nascent. If that was meant to be secret, it failed. We heard – we slaves hear everything—’
‘Yes, you do, and that is why we can help each other. Feather Witch, you wish to see this cursed empire collapse – so do I. And when that occurs, know this: I intend to take my Edur home. Back to our northlands. If the south is in flames, that is of no concern to me – I leave the Letherii to the Letherii, for no surer recipe for obliteration do any of us require. I knew that from the very start. Lether cannot sustain itself. Its appetite is an addiction, and that appetite exceeds the resources it needs to survive. Your people had already crossed that threshold, although they knew it not. It was my dream, Feather Witch, to raise a wall of power and so ensure the immunity of the Tiste Edur. Tell me, what do you know of the impending war in the east?’
‘What war?’
Hannan Mosag smiled. ‘The unravelling begins. Let us each grasp a thread, you at one end, me at the other. Behind you, the slaves. Behind me, all the K’risnan.’
‘Does Trull Sengar live?’
‘It is Fear Sengar who seeks the means of destroying Rhulad. And I mean for him to find it. Decide now, Feather Witch. Are we in league?’
She permitted herself a small smile. ‘Hannan Mosag, when the moment of obliteration comes…you had better crawl fast.’
‘I don’t want to see them.’
With these words the Emperor twisted on his throne, legs drawing up, and seemed to focus on the wall to his left. The sword in his right hand, point resting on the dais, was trembling.
Standing in an alcove to one side, Nisall wanted to hurry forward, reaching out for the beleaguered, frightened Edur.
But Triban Gnol stood facing the throne. This audience belonged to him and him alone; nor would the Chancellor countenance any interruption from her. He clearly detested her very presence, but on that detail Rhulad had insisted – Nisall’s only victory thus far.
‘Highness, I agree with you. Your father, alas, insisted I convey to you his wishes. He would greet his most cherished son. Further, he brings dire news—’
‘His favourite kind,’ Rhulad muttered, eyes flickering as if he was seeking an escape from the chamber. ‘Cherished? His word? No, I thought not. What he cherishes is my power – he wants it for himself. Him and Binadas—’
‘Forgive my interruption, Highness,’ Triban Gnol said, bowing his head. ‘There is news of Binadas.’
The Emperor flinched. Licked dry lips. ‘What has ha
ppened?’
‘It is now known,’ the Chancellor replied, ‘that Binadas was murdered. He was commanding a section of the fleet. There was a battle with an unknown enemy. Terrible sorcery was exchanged, and the remnants of both fleets were plunged into the Nascent, there to complete their battle in that flooded realm. Yet, this was all prelude. After the remaining enemy ships fled, a demon came upon Binadas’s ship. Such was its ferocity that all the Edur were slaughtered. Binadas himself was pinned to his chair by a spear flung by that demon.’
‘How,’ Rhulad croaked, ‘how is all this known?’
‘Your father…dreamed. In that dream he found himself a silent, ghostly witness, drawn there as if by the caprice of a malevolent god.’
‘What of that demon? Does it still haunt the Nascent? I shall hunt it down, I shall destroy it. Yes, there must be vengeance. He was my brother. I sent him, my brother, sent him. They all die by my word. All of them, and this is what my father will tell me – oh how he hungers for that moment, but he shall not have it! The demon, yes, the demon who stalks my kin…’ His fevered ramble trickled away, and so ravaged was Rhulad’s face that Nisall had to look away, lest she cry out.
‘Highness,’ the Chancellor said in a quiet voice.
Nisall stiffened – this was what Triban Gnol was working towards – all that had come before was for this precise moment.
‘Highness, the demon has been delivered. It is here, Emperor.’
Rhulad seemed to shrink back into himself. He said nothing, though his mouth worked.
‘A challenger,’ Triban Gnol continued. ‘Tarthenal blood, yet purer, Hanradi Khalag claims, than any Tarthenal of this continent. Tomad knew him for what he was the moment the giant warrior took his first step onto Edur bloodwood. Knew him, yet could not face him, for Binadas’s soul is in the Tarthenal’s shadow – along with a thousand other fell victims. They clamour, one and all, for both freedom and vengeance. Highness, the truth must now be clear to you. Your god has delivered him. To you, so that you may slay him, so that you may avenge your brother’s death.’
‘Yes,’ Rhulad whispered. ‘He laughs – oh, how he laughs. Binadas, are you close? Close to me now? Do you yearn for freedom? Well, if I cannot have it, why should you? No, there is no hurry now, is there? You wanted this throne, and now you learn how it feels – just a hint, yes, of all that haunts me.’
‘Highness,’ the Chancellor murmured, ‘are you not eager to avenge Binadas? Tomad—’
‘Tomad!’ Rhulad jolted on the throne, glared at Triban Gnol – who visibly rocked back. ‘He saw the demon slay Binadas, and now he thinks it will do the same to me! That is the desire for vengeance at work here, you fish-skinned fool! Tomad wants me to die because I killed Binadas! And Trull! I have killed his children! But whose blood burns in my veins? Whose? Where is Hanradi? Oh, I know why he will not be found in the outer room – he goes to Hannan Mosag! They plunge into Darkness and whisper of betrayal – I am past my patience with them!’
Triban Gnol spread his hands. ‘Highness, I had intended to speak to you of this, but at another time—’
‘Of what? Out with it!’
‘A humble inquiry from Invigilator Karos Invictad, Highness. With all respect, I assure you, he asks your will in regard to matters of treason – not among the Letherii, of course, for he has that well in hand – but among the Tiste Edur themselves…’
Nisall’s gasp echoed in the suddenly silent room. She looked across to where Edur guards were stationed, and saw them motionless as statues.
Rhulad looked ready to weep. ‘Treason among the Edur? My Edur? No, this cannot be – has he proof?’
A faint shrug. ‘Highness, I doubt he would have ventured this inquiry had he not inadvertently stumbled on some…sensitive information.’
‘Go away. Get out. Get out!’
Triban Gnol bowed, then backed from the chamber. Perhaps he’d gone too far, yet the seed had been planted. In most fertile soil.
As soon as the outer doors closed, Nisall stepped from the alcove. Rhulad waved her closer.
‘My love,’ he whispered in a child’s voice, ‘what am I to do? The demon – they brought it here.’
‘You cannot be defeated, Emperor.’
‘And to destroy it, how many times must I die? No, I’m not ready. Binadas was a powerful sorcerer, rival to the Warlock King himself. My brother…’
‘It may be,’ Nisall ventured, ‘that the Chancellor erred in the details of that. It may indeed be that Tomad’s dream was a deceitful sending – there are many gods and spirits out there who see the Crippled God as an enemy.’
‘No more. I am cursed into confusion; I don’t understand any of this. What is happening, Nisall?’
‘Palace ambitions, beloved. The return of the fleets has stirred things up.’
‘My own Edur…plotting treason…’
She reached out and set a hand on his left shoulder. The lightest of touches, momentary, then withdrawn once more. Dare I? ‘Karos Invictad is perhaps the most ambitious of them all. He revels in his reign of terror among the Letherii, and would expand it to include the Tiste Edur. Highness, I am Letherii – I know men like the Invigilator, I know what drives them, what feeds their malign souls. He hungers for control, for his heart quails in fear at all that is outside his control – at chaos itself. In his world, he is assailed on all sides. Highness, Karos Invictad’s ideal world is one surrounded by a sea of corpses, every unknown and unknowable obliterated. And even then, he will find no peace.’
‘Perhaps he should face me in the arena,’ Rhulad said, with a sudden vicious smile. ‘Face to face with a child of chaos, yes? But no, I need him to hunt down his Letherii. The traitors.’
‘And shall this Letherii be granted domination over Tiste Edur as well?’
‘Treason is colourless,’ Rhulad said, shifting uneasily on the throne once more. ‘It flows unseen no matter the hue of blood. I have not decided on that. I need to think, to understand. Perhaps I should summon the Chancellor once again.’
‘Highness, you once appointed an Edur to oversee the Patriotists. Do you recall?’
‘Of course I do. Do you think me an idiot, woman?’
‘Perhaps Bruthen Trana—’
‘Yes, that’s him. Not once has he reported to me. Has he done as I commanded? How do I even know?’
‘Summon him, then, Highness.’
‘Why does he hide from me? Unless he conspires with the other traitors.’
‘Highness, I know for a truth that he seeks an audience with you almost daily.’
‘You?’ Rhulad glanced over at her, eyes narrowing. ‘How?’
‘Bruthen Trana sought me out, beseeching me to speak to you on his behalf. The Chancellor denies him an audience with you—’
‘Triban Gnol cannot deny such things! He is a Letherii! Where are my Edur? Why do I never see them? And now Tomad has returned, and Hanradi Khalag! None of them will speak to me!’
‘Highness, Tomad waits in the outer chamber—’
‘He knew I would deny him. You are confusing me, whore. I don’t need you – I don’t need anyone! I just need time. To think. That is all. They’re all frightened of me, and with good reason, oh yes. Traitors are always frightened, and when their schemes are discovered, oh how they plead for their lives! Perhaps I should kill everyone – a sea of corpses, then there would be peace. And that is all I want. Peace. Tell me, are the people happy, Nisall?’
She bowed her head. ‘I do not know, Highness.’
‘Are you? Are you happy with me?’
‘I feel naught but love for you, Emperor. My heart is yours.’
‘The same words you spoke to Diskanar, no doubt. And all the other men you’ve bedded. Have your slaves draw a bath – you stink of sweat, woman. Then await me beneath silks.’ He raised his voice. ‘Call the Chancellor! We wish to speak to him immediately! Go, Nisall, your Letherii stink makes me ill.’
As she backed away Rhulad raised his free hand. ‘My dearest,
the golden silks – you are like a pearl among those. The sweetest pearl…’
Bruthen Trana waited in the corridor until Tomad Sengar, denied audience with the Emperor, departed the Citizens’ Chamber. Stepping into the elder’s path he bowed and said, ‘I greet you, Tomad Sengar.’
Distracted, the older Tiste Edur frowned at him. ‘Den-Ratha. What do you wish from me?’
‘A word or two, no more than that. I am Bruthen Trana—’
‘One of Rhulad’s sycophants.’
‘Alas, no. I was appointed early in the regime to oversee the Letherii security organization known as the Patriotists. As part of my responsibilities, I was to report to the Emperor in person each week. As of yet, I have not once addressed him. The Chancellor has interposed himself and turns me away each and every time.’
‘My youngest son suckles at Gnol’s tit,’ Tomad Sengar said in a low, bitter voice.
‘It is my belief,’ Bruthen Trana said, ‘that the Emperor himself is not entirely aware of the extent of the barriers the Chancellor and his agents have raised around him, Elder Sengar. Although I have sought to penetrate them, I have failed thus far.’
‘Then why turn to me, Den-Ratha? I am even less able to reach through to my son.’
‘It is the Tiste Edur who are being isolated from their Emperor,’ Bruthen said. ‘Not just you and I. All of us.’
‘Hannan Mosag—’
‘Is reviled, for it is well understood that the Warlock King is responsible for all of this. His ambition, his pact with an evil god. He sought the sword for himself, did he not?’
‘Then Rhulad is truly alone?’
Bruthen Trana nodded, then added, ‘There is a possibility…there is one person. The Letherii woman who is his First Concubine—’
‘A Letherii?’ Tomad snarled. ‘You must be mad. She is an agent for Gnol, a spy. She has corrupted Rhulad – how else could she remain as First Concubine? My son would never have taken her, unless she had some nefarious hold over him.’ The snarl twisted the elder’s features. ‘You are being used, warrior. You and I shall not speak again.’
The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen Page 598