Midnight Tides

by Steven Erikson

  Even so, at the moment before he spasmed beneath her, before his heavy groan that thinned into a whimper, Udinaas saw Mayen’s control begin to crumble. As if she had found a spark within her that she could flame into proper desire, perhaps even pleasure. Then, as he released, that spark flickered, died.

  None of which Rhulad witnessed, for his eyes were closed and he was fully inside himself.

  He would improve, of course. Or so it was reasonable to expect. She might even gain a measure of control over this act, and so revive and fan into life that spark.

  At that moment, Udinaas believed Mayen became the empress, wife to the emperor. At that moment, his faith in her spirit withered – if faith was the right word, that singular war between expectation and hope. Had he compassion to feel, he might have understood, and so softened with empathy. But compassion was engagement, a mindfulness beyond that of mere witness, and he felt none of that.

  He heard soft weeping coming from another place of darkness in the chamber, and slowly turned his head to look upon the fourth and last person present. As he had been, a witness to the rape with its hidden, metaphorical violence. But a witness trapped in the horror of feeling.

  Among the crisscrossing worn paths of faded colour, one led to her.

  Feather Witch huddled, pressed up against the wall, hands covering her face, racked with shudders.

  Much more of this and she might end up killed. Rhulad was a man growing ever more intimate with dying. He did not need reminding of what it cost him and everyone around him. Even worse, he was without constraints.

  Udinaas considered walking over to her, if only to tell her to be quiet. But his eyes fell on the intervening expanse of rugs and their images, and he realized that the distance was too great.

  Mayen had remained straddling Rhulad, her head hanging down.

  ‘Again,’ the emperor said.

  She straightened, began her motions, and Udinaas watched her search for that spark of pleasure. And then find it.

  Wanting good, yearning for bad. As simple as that? Was this contradictory, confused map universally impressed upon the minds of men and women? That did not seem a question worth answering, Udinaas decided. He had lost enough already.

  ‘Shut that bitch up!’

  The slave started at the emperor’s hoarse shout.

  The weeping had grown louder, probably in answer to Mayen’s audible panting.

  Udinaas pushed himself forward, across the rugs to where Feather Witch crouched in the gloom.

  ‘Get her out of here! Both of you, get out!’

  She did not resist as he lifted her to her feet. Udinaas leaned close. ‘Listen, Feather Witch,’ he said under his breath. ‘What did you expect?’

  Her head snapped up and he saw hatred in her eyes. ‘From you,’ she said in a snarl, ‘nothing.’

  ‘From her. Don’t answer – we must leave.’

  He guided her to the side door, then through into the servants’ corridor beyond. He closed the door behind them, then pulled her another half-dozen steps down the passage. ‘There’s no cause for crying,’ Udinaas said. ‘Mayen is trapped, just like us, Feather Witch. It is not for you to grieve that she has sought and found pleasure.’

  ‘I know what you’re getting at, Indebted,’ she said, twisting her arm out of his grip. ‘Is that what you want? My surrender? My finding pleasure when you make use of me?’

  ‘I am as you say, Feather Witch. Indebted. What I want? My wants mean nothing. They have fallen silent in my mind. You think I still pursue you? I still yearn for your love?’ He shook his head as he studied her face. ‘You were right. What is the point?’

  ‘I want nothing to do with you, Udinaas.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But you are Mayen’s handmaiden. And I, it appears, am to be Rhulad’s own slave. Emperor and empress. That is the reality we must face. You and I, we are a conceit. Or we were. Not any more, as far as I am concerned.’

  ‘Good. Then we need only deal with each other as necessity demands.’

  He nodded.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I do not trust you.’

  ‘I do not care.’

  Uncertainty. Unease. ‘What game are you playing at, Udinaas? Who speaks through your mouth?’ She stepped back. ‘I should tell her. About what hides within you.’

  ‘If you do that, Feather Witch, you will destroy your only chance.’

  ‘My only chance? What chance?’

  ‘Freedom.’

  Her face twisted. ‘And with that you would purchase my silence? You are foolish, Indebted. I was born a slave. I have none of your memories to haunt me—’

  ‘My memories? Feather Witch, my memory of freedom is as an Indebted trapped in a kingdom where even death offers no absolution. My memory is my father’s memory, and would have been my children’s memory. But you misunderstood. I did not speak of my freedom. I spoke only of yours. Not something to be recaptured, but found anew.’

  ‘And how do you plan on freeing me, Udinaas?’

  ‘We are going to war, Feather Witch. The Tiste Edur will wage war against Lether.’

  She scowled. ‘What of it? There have been wars before—’

  ‘Not like this one. Rhulad isn’t interested in raids. This will be a war of conquest.’

  ‘Conquer Lether? They will fail—’

  ‘Yes, they might. The point is, when the Edur march south, we will be going with them.’

  ‘Why are you so certain of all this? This war? This conquest?’

  ‘Because the Emperor has summoned the shadow wraiths. All of them.’

  ‘You cannot know such a thing.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘You cannot,’ Feather Witch insisted.

  Then she spun round and hurried down the passage.

  Udinaas returned to the door. To await the summons he knew would come, eventually.

  Emperor and slave. A score of paces, a thousand leagues. In the span of intractable command and obedience, the mind did not count distance. For the path was well worn, as it always had been and as it would ever be.

  The wraiths gathered, in desultory legions, in the surrounding forest, among them massive demons bound in chains that formed a most poignant armour. Creatures heaving up from the sea to hold the four hundred or more K’orthan raider ships now being readied, eager to carry them south. Among the tribes, in every village, the sorcerors awakening to the new emperor’s demand.

  A summons to war.

  Across a worn rug.

  Heroes triumphant.

  From beyond the wooden portal came Mayen’s cry.

  ****

  He emerged from the forest, his face pallid, his expression haunted, and halted in surprise at seeing the readied wagons, Buruk swearing at the Nerek as they scurried about. Seren Pedac had completed donning her leather armour and was strapping on her sword-belt.

  She watched him approach.

  ‘Dire events, Hull Beddict.’

  ‘You are leaving?’

  ‘Buruk has so commanded.’

  ‘What of the iron he sought to sell?’

  ‘It goes back with us.’ She looked about, then said, ‘Come, walk with me. I need to speak one last time with the First Eunuch.’

  Hull slowly nodded. ‘Good. There is much that I must tell you.’

  Her answering smile was wry. ‘It was my intent to accord the same to you.’

  They set off for the guest house near the citadel. Once more through the ringed divisions of the Edur city. This time, however, the citizens they passed were silent, sombre. Seren and Hull moved among them like ghosts.

  ‘I visited the old sites,’ Hull said. ‘And found signs of activity.’

  ‘What old sites?’ Seren asked.

  ‘North of the crevasse, the forest cloaks what was once a vast city, stretching on for leagues. It was entirely flagstoned, the stone of a type I’ve never seen before. It does not break, and only the action of roots has succeeded in shifting the slabs about.’

  ‘Why should
there be any activity at such places? Beyond that of the usual ghosts and wraiths?’

  Hull glanced at her momentarily, then looked away. ‘There are… kill sites. Piles of bones that have long since turned to stone. Skeletal remains of Tiste. Along with the bones of some kind of reptilian beast—’

  ‘Yes, I have seen those,’ Seren said. ‘They are collected and ground into medicinal powder by the Nerek.’

  ‘Just so. Acquitor, these sites have been disturbed, and the tracks I found were most disconcerting. They are, I believe, draconic.’

  She stared at him in disbelief. ‘The Hold of the Dragon has remained inactive, according to the casters of the tiles, for thousands of years.’

  ‘When did you last speak to a caster?’

  Seren hesitated, thinking back on Feather Witch’s efforts. When, it was hinted, all was in flux. ‘Very well. Draconic’ The thought of dragons, manifest in this world, was terrifying. ‘But I cannot see how this relates to the Tiste Edur—’

  ‘Seren Pedac, you must have realized by now that the Tiste Edur worship dragons. Father Shadow, the three Daughters, they are all draconic. Or Soletaken. In the depths of the crevasse a short distance from here can be found the shattered skull of a dragon. I believe that dragon is Father Shadow, the one the Edur call Scabandari Bloodeye. Perhaps this is the source of the betrayal that seems to be the heart of Edur religion. I found tracks there as well. Edur footprints.’

  ‘And what significance have you drawn from all this, Hull?’

  ‘There will be war. A fated war, born of a renewed sense of destiny. I fear for Hannan Mosag, for I think he has grasped a dragon’s tail – perhaps more than figuratively. This could prove too much, even for him and his K’risnan.’

  ‘Hull, the Warlock King no longer rules the Edur.’

  Shock; then his expression darkened. ‘Did the delegation arrive with assassins in its company?’

  ‘He was deposed before the delegation’s arrival,’ she replied. ‘Oh, I don’t know where to begin. Binadas’s brother, Rhulad. He died, then rose again, with in his possession a sword – the gift that Hannan Mosag sought. Rhulad has proclaimed himself emperor. And Hannan Mosag knelt before him.’

  Hull’s eyes shone. ‘As I said, then. Destiny.’

  ‘Is that what you choose to call it?’

  ‘I hear anger in your voice, Acquitor.’

  ‘Destiny is a lie. Destiny is justification for atrocity. It is the means by which murderers armour themselves against reprimand. It is a word intended to stand in place of ethics, denying all moral context. Hull, you are embracing that lie, and not in ignorance.’

  They had reached the bridge. Hull Beddict halted and rounded on her. ‘You knew me once, Seren Pedac. Enough to give me back my life. I am not blind to this truth, nor to the truth of who you are. You are honourable, in a world that devours honour. And would that I had been able to take more from you than I did, to become like you. Even to join my life to yours. But I haven’t your strength. I could not refashion myself.’ He studied her for a moment, then continued before she could respond. ‘You are right, I am not blind. I understand what it means to embrace destiny. What am I trying to tell you is, it is the best I can do.’

  She stepped back, as if buffeted by consecutive blows. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw in them the veracity of his confession. She wanted to scream, to loose her anguish, a sound to ring through the city as if to answer, finally and irrefutably, all that had happened.

  But no. I am a fool to think that others feel as I do. This tide is rising, and there are scant few who would stand before it.

  With heartbreaking gentleness, Hull Beddict reached out and took her arm. ‘Come, let us pay a visit to the First Eunuch.’

  ‘At the very least,’ Seren tried as they crossed the bridge, ‘your own position has become less relevant, making you in less danger than you might otherwise have been.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘That depends. Rhulad may not accept my offer of alliance. He might not trust me.’

  ‘What would you do then, Hull?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ****

  The guest house was crowded. Finadd Gerun Eberict had arrived, along with the First Eunuch’s own bodyguard, the Rulith, and a dozen other guards and officials. As Seren and Hull entered, they found themselves in the midst of a fierce exhortation from Prince Quillas Diskanar.

  ‘—sorcerors in both our camps. If we strike now, we might well succeed in cutting out the heart of this treacherous tyranny!’ He swung round. ‘Finadd Moroch Nevath, are our mages present?’

  ‘Three of the four, my prince,’ the warrior replied. ‘Laerdas remains with the ships.’

  ‘Very good. Well, First Eunuch?’

  Nifadas was studying the prince, expressionless. He made no reply to Quillas, turning instead to regard Hull and Seren. ‘Acquitor, does the rain continue to fall?’

  ‘No, First Eunuch.’

  ‘And is Buruk the Pale ready to depart?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I asked you a question, Nifadas!’ Quillas said, his face darkening.

  ‘Answering it,’ the First Eunuch said slowly, fixing his small eyes on the prince, ‘makes implicit the matter is worth considering. It is not. We are facing more than Hannan Mosag the warlock and his K’risnan. The emperor and his sword. Together, they are something… other. Those accompanying me are here under my guidance, and at present we shall remain in good faith. Tell me, Prince, how many assassins have you brought along with your sorcerors?’

  Quillas said nothing.

  Nifadas addressed Gerun Eberict. ‘Finadd?’

  ‘There are two,’ the man replied. ‘Both present in this chamber.’

  The First Eunuch nodded, then seemed to dismiss the issue. ‘Hull Beddict, I am hesitant to offer you welcome.’

  ‘I am not offended by that admission, First Eunuch.’

  ‘Has the Acquitor apprised you of the situation?’

  ‘She has.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘For what it is worth, I advise you to leave. As soon as possible.’

  ‘And what will you do?’

  Hull frowned. ‘I see no reason to answer that.’

  ‘You are a traitor!’ Quillas said in a hiss. ‘Finadd Moroch, arrest him!’

  There was dismay on the First Eunuch’s features as Moroch Nevath drew his sword and stepped close to Hull Beddict.

  ‘You cannot do that,’ Seren Pedac said, her heart thundering in her chest.

  All eyes fixed on her.

  ‘I am sorry, my prince,’ she continued, struggling to keep her voice even. ‘Hull Beddict is under the protection of the Tiste Edur. He was granted guest status by Binadas Sengar, brother to the emperor.’

  ‘He is Letherii!’

  ‘The Edur will be indifferent to that detail,’ Seren replied.

  ‘We are done here,’ Nifadas said. ‘There will be no arrests. Prince Quillas, it is time.’

  ‘Do we scurry at this emperor’s command, First Eunuch?’ Quillas was shaking with rage. ‘He asks for us, well enough. Let the bastard wait.’ He wheeled on Hull Beddict. ‘Know that I intend to proclaim you an outlaw and traitor of Lether. Your life is forfeit.’

  A weary smile was Hull’s only reply.

  Nifadas spoke to Seren. ‘Acquitor, will you accompany us to our audience with the emperor?’

  She was surprised by the offer, and more than a little alarmed. ‘First Eunuch?’

  ‘Assuming Buruk is prepared to wait, of course. I am certain he will be, and I will send someone to inform him.’ He gestured and one of his servants hurried off. ‘Hull Beddict, I presume you are on your way to speak with Emperor Rhulad? At the very least, accompany us to the citadel. I doubt there will be any confusion of purposes once we enter.’

  Seren could not determine the motives underlying the First Eunuch’s invitations. She felt rattled, off balance.

  ‘As you
wish,’ Hull said, shrugging.

  Nifadas in the lead, the four Letherii left the guest house and made their way towards the citadel. Seren drew Hull a pace behind the First Eunuch and Prince Quillas. ‘I’m not sure I like this,’ she said under her breath.

  Hull grunted, and it was a moment before Seren realized it had been a laugh.

  ‘What is funny about that?’

  ‘Your capacity for understatement, Acquitor. I have always admired your ability to stay level.’

  ‘Indecisiveness is generally held to be a flaw, Hull.’

  ‘If it is certainty you want, Seren, then join me.’

  The offer was uttered low, barely audible. She sighed. ‘I do not want certainty,’ she replied. ‘In fact, certainty is the one thing I fear the most.’

  ‘I expected that sort of answer.’

  Two K’risnan met the party at the entrance and escorted them into the throne chamber.

  Emperor Rhulad was seated once more, his new wife standing at his side, on the left. Apart from the two K’risnan, no-one else was present. Although Mayen’s face was fixed and without expression, something about it, ineffable in the way of the secret language among women, told Seren that a consummation had occurred, a binding that was reflected in Rhulad’s dark eyes, a light of triumph and supreme confidence. ‘Hull Beddict,’ he said in his rough voice, ‘blood brother to Binadas, you arrive in questionable company.’

  ‘Emperor,’ Hull said, ‘your brother’s faith in me is not misplaced.’

  ‘I see. And how does your prince feel about that?’

  ‘He is no longer my prince. His feelings mean nothing to me.’

  Rhulad smiled. ‘Then I suggest you step to one side. I would now speak to the official delegation from Lether, such as it is.’

  Hull bowed and walked three paces to the right.

  ‘Acquitor?’

  ‘Emperor, I come to inform you that I am about to leave, as escort to Buruk the Pale.’

  ‘We appreciate the courtesy, Acquitor. If that is all that brings you into our presence, best you join Hull.’

  She bowed in acquiescence and moved away. Now why did Nifadas want this?

  ‘Emperor Rhulad,’ Nifadas said, ‘may I speak?’

  The Edur regarded the First Eunuch with half-closed lids. ‘We permit it.’