Dust of Dreams

by Erikson, Steven

  Hethry, her third daughter, stepped forward and said, ‘It is your life that matters, Mother—’

  ‘Oh, eat my shit. If you could pull off the perfect disguise of a Khundryl to get a knife in my back, there’d be four of ’em riding up to our parley, not three. Go play with your brother, and tell me nothing about what you get up to with him. I’d like to keep my food down for a change.’ She held out her arms and slaves worked the gauntlets on. Another slave cinched the weapon belt round her solid, meaty hips, whilst a fourth one waited cradling the helm in gloved hands.

  As Hethry retreated, after a few venomous darts at her mother, the Queen turned to the Gilk Warchief. ‘You coming along to see if they make you a better offer, Spax?’

  The Barghast grinned, revealed filed teeth. ‘The Khundryl probably hold more of your treasury than you do, Firehair. But no, the Gilk are true to their word.’

  Abastral grunted. ‘I imagine the one you call Tool might piss in laughter at hearing that.’

  The Gilk’s broad, flat face lost all traces of humour. ‘If you were not a queen, woman, I’d have you hobbled for that.’

  She stepped up to the warrior and slapped him on one shell-armoured shoulder. ‘Let’s see those pointies again, Spax, while you walk beside me and tell me all about this hobbling thing. If it’s as ugly as I suspect, I might adopt it for some of my daughters. Well, most of them, actually.’

  Snagging the helm from the slave, she set out down the road, her bodyguard scrabbling to catch up and then flank her and Spax.

  ‘Your daughters need a whipping,’ the Gilk Warchief said. ‘Those I have met, anyway.’

  ‘Even Spultatha? You’ve been dimpling her thighs the last three nights straight—some kind of record for her, by the way. Must be she likes your barbarian ways.’

  ‘Especially her, Firehair. Wilful, demanding—any Barghast but a Gilk would have died of exhaustion by now.’ He barked a laugh. ‘I like you, and so I would never want to see you hobbled.’

  ‘But the wound that is named Tool is still raw, is it?’

  He nodded. ‘Disappointment is a cancer, Queen.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ she responded, thinking of her husband, and a few other things besides.

  ‘A woman hobbled has her feet chopped and can refuse no man or woman or, indeed, camp dog.’

  ‘I see. Use that word in the same sentence as my name again, Spax, and I’ll chop your cock off and feed it to my favourite corpse-rat.’

  He grinned. ‘See these teeth?’

  ‘That’s better.’

  The three Khundryl were waiting on the road, still in their saddles, but as the Bolkando contingent approached, the feather-cloaked warrior in the centre swung down and left his horse behind him as he stepped forward three paces. A moment later his two companions did the same.

  ‘Look at that,’ Abrastal observed under her breath. ‘Show me a Bolkando horse that just stands there once its reins are dropped.’

  ‘Horsewarriors,’ said Spax. ‘They are closer to their horses than they are to their wives, husbands and children. They are infuriating to fight against, Queen. Why, I recall the Rhivi—’

  ‘Not now, Spax. And stay back, among my soldiers. Watch. Listen. Say nothing.’

  The Gilk shrugged. ‘As you like, Firehair.’

  Despite herself, Abrastal was forced to admit that her first impression of Warleader Gall of the Burned Tears left her uneasy. He had the sharp, avid eyes of a hunting bird. He was well into his sixth decade, she judged, but he had the physique of a blacksmith. The black tattoos of tears tracked down his gaunt cheeks, vanishing into an iron-shot beard. The vast crow-feather cape was too heavy to ride out behind him as he strode towards her, instead flaring to the sides until it seemed he was perpetually emerging from a cavern mouth. The scales of his black-stained hauberk were tear-shaped across his broad chest, elongating into layered feathers on his shoulders.

  His two bodyguards looked barely out of their teens, but they had the same predatory glint in their dark eyes. Abrastal had a sudden vision of taking the young men to her bed, and something delicious squirmed below her rounded belly. The young ones were best, not yet sunk into self-serving habits and whatnot, pliable to her domination, her measured techniques of training that some might call corruption. Well, her lovers never complained, did they?

  The Queen blinked away the distraction and focused once more upon the Warleader. She had learned something of the cult binding these Khundryl. Struck to awe and then worship upon witnessing an enemy on the field of battle—an extraordinary notion, she had trouble believing it. So … foreign. In any case, whoever that commander was—who, in death, had found worshippers among his enemies—he must have possessed unusual virtues. One thing was undeniable, these savages had been fatally underestimated.

  ‘Warleader Gall,’ she said as the warrior halted two paces in front of her, ‘I am Abrastal, commander of the Evertine Legion and Queen of the Bolkando.’

  There was amusement in his eyes as they flicked to scan the heavily armoured legion bodyguards arrayed behind her. ‘And these are the soldiers you command, Highness? These … tent-pegs. When the Khundryl whirlwind finds them, will they hold fast?’

  ‘You are welcome to find out, Warleader.’

  He grunted, and then said: ‘They will hold, I’m sure, even as the tent you call a kingdom is torn to shreds behind them.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ll take care not to stumble upon them when we leave. No matter, it pleases me that the first title you gave yourself was that of commander. That you are also the Queen had the flavour of an afterthought. By this, am I to assume that this parley is to be between commanders?’

  ‘Not entirely,’ Abrastal replied.

  ‘So what you have to say this afternoon binds the kingdom itself, including your husband, the King?’

  ‘It does.’

  He nodded. ‘Good.’

  ‘I will hear from you your list of grievances, Warleader.’

  His bushy brows lifted. ‘Why? Are we to badger each other with matters of interpretation? Your merchants practised extortion on the Khundryl and clearly had the backing of the military. We took their contempt for us and rammed it up their backsides, and now we are but a day from the walls of your capital. And here you are, seeking to bar the way. Do we fight, or do you seek peace between us?’

  Abrastal studied the man. ‘The city behind me has walls and fortifications, Warleader. Your horsewarriors cannot hope to take it. What then is left to you? Why, to ravage the countryside until there is nothing left.’

  ‘Easier to feed my warriors than for you to feed a city packed with tens of thousands of refugees.’

  ‘You would seek to starve us out?’

  Gall shrugged. ‘Highness, Bolkando has lost this war. If we were so inclined, we could simply take over. Throw you and all of your bloodline into the nearest well and seal it up.’

  Abrastal smiled. ‘Oh, dear. Now you show your hut-dwelling roots, Warleader Gall. Before I tell you of the overwhelming logistics of ruling a kingdom whose citizens consider conspiracy a religion, I need to avail you of some other details. Yes, your fleet warriors have given us a great deal of trouble, but we are far from defeated. My Evertine Legion—yes, it belongs to me, not to the King, not to the kingdom—has never been defeated. Indeed, it has never retreated a single step in battle. By all means, fling your braves against our iron wall; we will heap the dead two storeys high around us. But I do not think you will have the chance, alas. Should we come to battle here, Warleader, you will be annihilated. The Khundryl Burned Tears shall have ceased to exist, reduced to a few thousand slaves with quaint tattoos.’

  After a moment, Gall hacked up phlegm, turned and spat. Then he wiped his mouth and said, ‘Highness, even as we stand here, your two flanking pincers are being filed down to stumps. Even should we lock jaws with your army, we’ll hardly remain so locked until such time as any other relieving force you manage to cough up arrives.’ He made a dismissive gesture with one scarred han
d. ‘This posturing is pointless. How many days away are the Perish? They will take your Evertine Legion and melt it down for all the fancy gold on that armour.’ As she made to speak he held up his hand to forestall her. ‘I have yet to mention the worst you will face—the Bonehunters. Among my people, arguments and opinions are unending as to who are the greatest soldiers the world has ever known—ah, I see in your face that you think we strut about as one of those two, but we do not. No, we speak of the Wickans of Coltaine, versus the marines of the Malazan Empire.’ His teeth appeared in a hard smile. ‘Lucky for you that there are no longer any Wickans among the Bonehunters, but alas, there are plenty of marines.’

  A long moment of silence followed his words. Eventually, Abrastal sighed. ‘What are your demands?’

  ‘We already have enough loot, Highness, so now we’re prepared to sell it back to you—for food, water, livestock and feed. But, for the cost of my warriors killed or maimed in this war, we will pay no more than a third of the true value of those supplies. Once these arrangements are completed to our satisfaction, and once we are reunited with the Perish Grey Helms, we shall leave your kingdom. For ever.’

  ‘That is it?’

  Gall made a face. ‘We don’t want your kingdom. We never did.’

  She knew she should feel offended by that, but the time for such indulgences would have to wait. ‘Warleader, understand. The pernicious acts of the merchant houses which led to this war were in themselves abuses of the King’s official policy—’

  ‘We made certain those thieves were the first to die, Highness.’

  ‘The ones you killed were but the tip of the poisoned knife.’ She half-turned and nodded to one of her guards. This officer led four other soldiers out from the squad, these ones carrying between them a leather satchel large enough to hold a Khundryl tipi. They set it down and untied the bound corners, and then pulled flat the edges.

  A half-dozen bodies were revealed, although not much was left of them.

  ‘These are the principal agents,’ said Abrastal, ‘believing themselves safely ensconced in the capital. As you can see, only their skins remain—our Punishers are skilled in such matters. Consider them evidence of our acknowledgement of the injustices set upon you. They are yours if you want them.’

  Gall’s raptor eyes fixed on her. ‘I am tempted,’ he said slowly, ‘to renege on my avowed lack of interest in taking over your kingdom, if only out of compassion for your people, Highness.’

  ‘We hold to justice,’ Abrastal snapped, ‘in our own way. I am frankly surprised at your sensitivity, Warleader. The stories I have heard about the habits of savages when it comes to inventing cruel tortures—’

  ‘Do not apply to us,’ Gall cut in, his voice hard as iron. After a moment he seemed to suddenly relax. ‘Unless we happen to get very angry. In any case, you misunderstood me, Highness. That your kingdom is home to citizens of any stripe who know no self-constraint—no, even worse, that they would treat with foreigners unmindful of the fact that they stand as representatives of their own people—and their kingdom—speaks to me of your self-hatred.’

  ‘Self-hatred. I see. And if you were the King of Bolkando, Warleader, what would you do?’

  ‘I would make lying the greatest crime of all.’

  ‘Interesting notion. Unfortunately, usually the biggest liars of all are the people at the top—it’s how they stay there, after all.’

  ‘Ah, then I am not to believe a word you say?’

  ‘You can believe me, for I can think of no lies that would win me anything.’

  ‘Because my sword hovers over your throat.’

  ‘Precisely. But the lies I was speaking of are the ones the elite use to maintain the necessary distinctions, if you see my point.’

  ‘I do,’ and now he regarded her with keen interest. ‘Highness, this has proved most interesting. But I must ask you one other thing—why are you here and not your husband the King?’

  ‘The role of my Evertine Legion is to be arbiter of control within the kingdom—and its own populace—as much as to confront external threats.’

  He nodded. ‘Thus, your presence here serves dual purpose.’

  ‘And the message presented to our rivals in the palace is—and do not be offended by this—the more important of the two.’ And then she smiled and added, ‘Unless, of course, you were seeking actual conquest.’

  ‘Your husband holds great faith in you, Highness.’

  He has no choice. ‘He does, and with reason.’

  ‘Do you accept our demands?’

  ‘I do, Warleader, with some modifications.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Name them.’

  ‘The water we provide you will be doubled, and it will be freely given. We shall also double the forage you require for your beasts, for we know far more about the Wastelands than you do, and we have no wish to make you into liars when you say you will never return to Bolkando.’ She paused, cocked her head. ‘Beyond the Wastelands you will find the dozen or so kingdoms of Kolanse. Warleader, I imagine you will not heed my advice, but I will give it anyway. You will find nothing of worth there. You will, in fact, find something terrible beyond imagining.’

  ‘Will you tell me more, Highness?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘Then may I request that you do not do so until such time as either the Mortal Sword Krughava or the Adjunct Tavore is present.’

  ‘Those you have named, they are both women, yes?’

  ‘They are.’

  ‘Will you feel … out of place, then?’

  ‘I will, but not for the reasons you might think, Highness.’

  ‘I shall then await this potent gathering with anticipation, Warleader.’

  And for the first time, Gall bowed to her. ‘Queen Abrastal, it has been a pleasure.’

  ‘I am sure you feel so, and I do not begrudge you that. Are we now at peace?’

  ‘We are.’

  She glanced down at the skins on the leather tarp. ‘And these?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Gall, ‘we’ll take them. My warriors will need to see them, to ease their rage. And for some, to soothe their grief over fallen kin.’

  As he bowed again and turned away, Abrastal called out, ‘Warleader.’

  He faced her again, a question in his eyes.

  The Queen hesitated, and then said, ‘When you spoke of your people’s opinions … of these marines of the Malazan Empire, was there truth to your words?’

  He straightened. ‘Highness, although the great Coltaine of the Crow Clan had many Wickans with him, he also possessed marines. Together, they escorted thirty thousand refugees across a third of a continent, and each step of the journey was war.’

  ‘Have I misunderstood then, Warleader? Did not Coltaine fail? Did he not die? And everyone with him?’

  The warrior’s eyes were suddenly old. ‘He did. They all died—the Wickans, the marines.’

  ‘Then I do not—’

  ‘They died, Highness, even as they delivered those thirty thousand refugees to safety. They died, but they won.’

  When she had nothing more to say, Gall nodded and resumed his march back to his horse. The two young bodyguards moved to edge past her to help with the defleshed and deboned merchants. Abrastal caught the eye of the boy and winked. If he had been a Bolkando, his eyes would have widened in return. Instead, he grinned.

  That dark thing came alive in her once again.

  Spax was suddenly at her side, watching as Gall swung himself on to his horse and then sat motionless, presumably waiting for his two charges and the legionaries. ‘I well remember Malazan marines,’ he muttered.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Gall spoke true. A more stubborn lot this world has never seen.’

  Abrastal thought of Kolanse. ‘They will need it.’

  ‘Firehair, will you escort them to the border?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘All of them. The Khundryl, the Perish, the Bonehunters.’

  ‘I wasn’t eve
n aware the Bonehunters were entering our territory.’

  ‘Perhaps they won’t now that the need is gone.’

  ‘The Evertine Legion shall accompany these Khundryl and the Perish. It seems, however, that some form of meeting of at least two of the three commanders is planned—and Gall seems to think it will be soon. I would like to speak with them. Accordingly, you and your Gilk will now attach to me—and if we have to march past the border, we shall.’

  Spax showed his filed teeth. ‘You can make a request to the Warleader, Queen.’

  ‘I think I’ve already been invited—’

  ‘Not that.’ He jerked with his chin. ‘The pup.’

  She scowled.

  The Gilk Warchief grunted a laugh. ‘You told to me watch carefully, Firehair.’

  Abrastal swung about and began marching back to her legion. ‘Rava is going to pay for all of this.’

  ‘He already has, I gather.’

  ‘Not enough. I’ll keep shaking him till he’s old and grey and shedding teeth and whiskers.’

  ‘Gall is disgusted by your people.’

  ‘So am I, Spax.’

  He laughed again.

  ‘Stop sounding so smug,’ she said. ‘Hundreds, maybe thousands of Bolkando soldiers have died today. I had actually considered using your Gilk for one of the pincers—you would not be so pleased with yourself if I had.’

  ‘We would have just kept on marching, Firehair.’

  ‘Studded with arrows.’

  ‘Oh, we’d leave a trail of our own, yes, but we would have arrived when we were supposed to, ready to deliver vengeance.’

  She considered that, and concluded he was not simply full of himself. We should have heeded what befell the Lether Empire. Dear Bolkando, the world beyond is very large indeed. And the sooner we send it on its way again the sooner we can get back to our orgy of sniping and backstabbing.

  ‘You’ve a nostalgic look in your eye, Firehair.’

  ‘Stop seeing so much, Spax.’

  His third laugh made her want to punch her fist through the man’s ugly face.