Midnight Tides

by Steven Erikson

  ‘Ceda? Are you all right?’

  ‘Nameless One?’ The old man was shivering. ‘This place – this is the Hold of Death, isn’t it? It’s become the Hold of Death.’

  Kettle reached over and picked up the flagstone. It was as heavy as a corpse, so she was used to the weight. ‘This is for your Cedance, for where you look when you don’t see me.’

  ‘A tile.’ Kuru Qan looked away as she set it down in front of him.

  ‘Ceda,’ Uncle Brys said, ‘I do not understand. What has happened here?’

  ‘Our history… so much is proving untrue. The Nameless Ones were of the First Empire. A cult. It was expunged. Eliminated. It cannot have survived, but it seems to have done just that. It seems to have outlived the First Empire itself.’

  ‘Are they some sort of death cult?’

  ‘No. They were servants of the Azath.’

  ‘Then why,’ Brys asked, ‘do they appear to have been overseeing the death of this Azath tower?’

  Kuru Qan shook his head. ‘Unless they saw it as inevitable. And so they acted in order to counter those within the barrows who would escape once the tower died. The manifestation of a Hold of Death may turn out to have nothing to do with them.’

  ‘Then why is she still the guardian?’

  ‘She may not be, Brys. She waits in order to deal with those who are about to escape the grounds.’ The Ceda’s gaze returned to Kettle. ‘Child, is that why you remain?’

  She shrugged. ‘It won’t be long now.’

  ‘And the one the Azath chose to help you, Kettle, will he emerge in time?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so.’

  ‘So do I,’ Kuru Qan said. ‘Thank you, child, for the tile. Still, I wonder at your knowledge of this new Hold.’

  Kettle pulled an insect from her hair and tossed it aside. ‘The pretty man told me all about it,’ she said.

  ‘Another visitor?’

  ‘Only once. Mostly he just stands in the shadows, across the street. Sometimes he followed me when I went hunting, but he never said anything. Not until today, when he came over and we talked.’

  ‘Did he tell you his name?’ the Ceda asked.

  ‘No. But he was very handsome. Only he said he had a girlfriend. Lots. Boyfriends, too. Besides, I shouldn’t give my heart away. That’s what he said. He never does. Never ever.’

  ‘And this man told you all about the Hold of Death?’

  ‘Yes, Grandfather. He knew all about it. He said it doesn’t need a new guardian, because the throne is already occupied, at least everywhere else. Here too, soon. I’m tired of talking now.’

  ‘Of course, Kettle,’ Kuru Qan said. ‘We shall take our leave of you, then.’

  ‘Goodbye. Oh, don’t forget the tile!’

  ‘We will send some people to collect it, child.’

  ‘All right.’

  She watched them walk away. When they were gone from sight she headed over to her friend’s barrow, and felt him close. ‘Where are you taking me this time?’

  Her hand in his, she found herself standing on a low hill, and before them was a vast, shallow valley, filled with corpses.

  It was dusk, a layer of smoke hanging over the vista. Just above the horizon opposite, a suspended mountain of black stone was burning, columns of smoke billowing from its gashed flanks. Below, the bodies were mostly of some kind of huge, reptilian creature wearing strange armour. Grey-skinned and long-snouted, their forms were contorted and ribboned with slashes, lying in tangled heaps. Here and there in their midst lay other figures. Tall, some with grey skins, some with black.

  Standing beside her, he spoke, ‘Over four hundred thousand, Kettle. Here in this valley alone. There are other… valleys. Like this one.’

  A score of leathery-winged beasts were crossing the valley at one end, far to their right.

  ‘Ooh, are those dragons?’

  ‘Spawn. Locqui Wyval, searching for their master. But he is gone. Once they realize that, they will know to wait. It will prove a long wait.’

  ‘Are they waiting still?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When did this battle happen?’

  ‘Many thousands of years ago, Kettle. But the damage remains. In a short while, the ice will arrive, sealing all you see. Holding all in stasis, a sorcery of impressive power, so powerful it will prove a barrier to the dead themselves – to the path their spirits would take. I wonder if that was what the Jaghut had intended. In any case, the land was twisted by the magic. The dead… lingered. Here, in the north, and far to the south, as far as Letheras itself. To my mind, an Elder god meddled. But none could have foreseen the consequences, not even an Elder god.’

  ‘Is that why the tower has become the Hold of Death?’

  ‘It has? I was not aware of that. This, then, is what comes, when the sorcery finally dies and the world thaws. Balance is reasserted.’

  ‘Shurq Elalle says we are at war. The Tiste Edur, she says, are invading Lether.’

  ‘Let us hope they do not arrive before I am free.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they will endeavour to kill me, Kettle.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For fear that I will seek to kill them.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘On many levels,’ he replied, ‘there is no reason why I shouldn’t. But no, not unless they get in my way. You and I know, after all, that the true threat waits in the barrows of the Azath grounds.’

  ‘I don’t think the Edur will win the war,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, failure on their part would be ideal.’

  ‘So what else did you want to show me?’

  A pale white hand gestured towards the valley. ‘There is something odd to all this. Do you see? Or, rather, what don’t you see?’

  ‘I don’t see any ghosts.’

  ‘Yes. The spirits are gone. The question is, where are they?’

  ****

  Terrified screams echoed as Shurq Elalle walked down the wide, high-ceilinged corridor to the Master Chamber of the Tolls Repository. Guards, servants, clerks and cleaning staff had one and all succumbed to perfectly understandable panic. There was nothing worse, she reflected, than the unexpected visitations of dead relatives.

  Ahead, the double doors were wide open, and the lanterns in the huge room beyond were swinging wildly to immanent gusts of spirited haste.

  The thief strode into the chamber.

  A squalid ghost rushed up to her, rotted face grinning wildly. ‘I touched it! My last coin! I found it in the stacks! And touched it!’

  ‘I am happy for you,’ Shurq said. ‘Now, where are the counters and readers?’

  ‘Eh?’

  Shurq moved past the ghost. The chamber was seething, spirits hurrying this way and that, others hunched over tumbled scrolls, still others squirming along the shelves. Chests of coins had been knocked over, the glittering gold coins stirring about on the marble floor as gibbering wraiths pawed them.

  ‘I worked here!’

  Shurq eyed the ghost drifting her way. ‘You did?’

  ‘Oh yes. They put in more shelves, and look at those lantern nooks – what idiot decided on those dust-traps? Dust is a fire hazard. Terrible fire hazard. Why, I was always telling them that. And now I could prove my point – a nudge, a simple nudge of that lantern there, yes…’

  ‘Come back here! Nothing burns. Understand?’

  ‘If you say so. Fine. I was just kidding, anyway.’

  ‘Have you looked at the ledgers?’

  ‘Yes, yes, and counted. And memorized. I was always good at memorizing; that’s why they hired me. I could count and count and never lose my place. But the dust! Those nooks! Everything might burn, burn terribly—’

  ‘Enough of that. We have what we need. Time for everyone to leave.’ A chorus of wavering voices answered her. ‘We don’t want to!’

  ‘There’ll be priests coming. Probably already on their way. And mages, eager to collect wraiths to enslave as their servants for ete
rnity.’

  ‘We’re leaving!’

  ‘You,’ said Shurq to the ghost before her, ‘come with me. Talk. Give me details.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Of course.’

  ‘Leave that lantern alone, damn you!’

  ‘Sorry. Terrible fire hazard, oh, the flames there’d be. Such flames, all those inks, the colours!’

  ‘Everyone!’ the thief shouted. ‘We’re going now! And you, stop rolling that coin – it stays here!’

  ****

  ‘The Seventh Closure,’ Kuru Qan muttered as they made their way back to the palace. ‘It is all spiralling inward. Troubling, this concatenation of details. The Azath dies, a Hold of Death comes into being. A Nameless One appears and somehow possesses the corpse of a child, then fashions an alliance with a denizen of a barrow. A usurper proclaims himself emperor of the Tiste Edur, and now leads an invasion. Among his allies, a demon from the sea, one of sufficient power to destroy two of my best mages. And now, if other rumours are true, it may be the emperor is himself a man of many lives…’ Brys glanced over. ‘What rumours?’

  ‘Citizens witnessed his death in Trate. The Edur emperor was cut down in battle. Yet he… returned. Probably an exaggeration, but I am nervous none the less at my own assumptions in this matter, Brys. Still, the Tiste Edur have superb healers. Perhaps a binding spell of some sort, cleaving the soul to the flesh until they can arrive… I must give this more thought.’

  ‘And you believe, Ceda, that all this is somehow linked to the Seventh Closure?’

  ‘The rebirth of our empire. That is my fear, Champion. That we have in some fatal way misread our ancient prophecy. Perhaps the empire has already appeared.’

  ‘The Tiste Edur? Why would a Letherii prophecy have anything to do with them?’

  Kuru Qan shook his head. ‘It is a prophecy that arose in the last days of the First Empire. Brys, there is so much we have lost. Knowledge, the world of that time. Sorcery gone awry, birthing horrific beasts, the armies of undead who delivered such slaughter among our people, then simply left. Mysterious tales of a strange realm of magic that was torn apart. Could the role of an entire people fit in any of the gaps in our knowing? Yes. And what of other people who are named, yet nothing more than the names survives – no descriptions? Barghast, Jhag, Trell. Neighbouring tribes? We’ll never know.’

  They came to the gates. Sleepy guards identified them and opened the lesser postern door. The palace grounds were empty, silent. The Ceda paused and stared up at the hazy stars overhead.

  Brys said nothing. He waited, standing at the old man’s side, seeing the night sky reflected in the twin lenses in front of Kuru Qan’s eyes. Wondering what the Ceda was thinking.

  ****

  Tehol Beddict smiled as she threaded her way through the crowd towards him. ‘Chief Investigator Rucket, I am delighted to see you again.’

  ‘No you’re not,’ she replied. ‘You’re just trying to put me on the defensive.’

  ‘How does my delight make you defensive?’

  ‘Because I get suspicious, that’s why. You’re not fooling me, with those absurd trousers and that idiotic insect on your shoulder.’

  Tehol looked down in surprise. ‘Ezgara! I thought I left you on the roof.’

  ‘You’ve named him Ezgara? He doesn’t look a thing like our king. Oh, maybe if our king had two heads, then I might see the resemblance, but as it stands, that’s a stupid name.’

  ‘The three of us are deeply offended, as is my bodyguard here and, one must assume, his two brothers wherever they are. Thus, the six of us. Deeply offended.’

  ‘Where is Bugg?’

  ‘Somewhere in that crowd behind you, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, no. They’re all looking.’

  ‘Oh, he was there a moment ago.’

  ‘But he isn’t any longer, and the people are clamouring.’

  ‘No they aren’t, Rucket. They’re milling.’

  ‘Now you’re challenging my assessment. Concluding, no doubt, that contrariness is sexually attractive. Maybe for some women it is, the kind you prefer, I’d wager. But I take exception to your taking exception to everything I say.’

  ‘Now who’s being contrary?’

  She scowled. ‘I was intending to invite you to a late night bite. There is a courtyard restaurant not far from here—’

  ‘The Trampled Peacock.’

  ‘Why, yes. I am dismayed that you are familiar with it. Suggesting to me, for obvious reasons, that clandestine trysts are common with you, further suggesting a certain cheapness and slatternly behaviour on your part. I don’t know why I am surprised that you’re so loose, actually. I should have expected it. Accordingly, I want nothing to do with you.’

  ‘I’ve never been there.’

  ‘You haven’t? Then how do you know of it?’

  I own it. ‘Reputation, I imagine. I wish I could be more precise. Who said what and when and all that, but it’s late and even if it wasn’t I’d probably not recall such details.’

  ‘So, are you hungry?’

  ‘Always. Oh, here’s my manservant. Did you hear, Bugg? Chief Investigator Rucket has invited us to supper.’

  ‘Well, the cat can wait.’

  Rucket glared at Tehol. ‘Who said anything about him?’

  ‘I go everywhere with my manservant, Rucket. And my bodyguard.’

  ‘Everywhere? Even on dates?’

  ‘Bugg,’ Tehol said, ‘have you done all you can here? Is it time to let these poor people sleep?’

  ‘Well past time, master.’

  ‘We’re off to the Trampled Peacock!’

  ‘Is that such a good idea, master?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t mine, Bugg, but there it is. Please, Rucket, lead the way.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful. I look forward to a night of weathering attacks on my vanity. Come now, all of you, we’re wasting time.’

  ****

  Tehol threw up his hands as soon as they entered the courtyard. ‘Extraordinary! Bugg, look who’s here! Why, it’s Shand and Rissarh and Hejun! Come, let us put two tables together and so make of this a festive gathering of co-conspirators!’

  ‘The coincidence leaves me awed,’ the manservant said.

  ‘Who in the Errant’s name are those women?’ Rucket demanded. ‘And why are they all so angry?’

  ‘That’s not anger,’ Tehol said, approaching, ‘that’s recognition. Dear women, how are you all? Faring well, I see. We’ve decided to join you.’

  ‘Who is this absurd creature at your side?’ Shand asked. ‘And what’s with the cape?’

  ‘Watch who you’re calling a creature, cobble-head,’ Rucket hissed.

  ‘Tehol’s found a woman,’ Rissarh said in a snarl. ‘Typical. He steals our man then gets himself a woman—’

  Hejun grunted. ‘I was beginning to suspect him and the dead bitch.’

  ‘Dead bitch?’ Rucket’s eyes were wild as she looked round. ‘He makes love to a dead bitch?’

  ‘One freak accident—’ Tehol began.

  ‘If you shaved your head,’ Shand said to Rucket, sputtering with rage, ‘we’d all see how truly ugly you are!’

  The guard was looking alarmed. People at other tables gestured madly at the serving staff.

  ‘Worked hard on that one, did you?’ Rucket asked. ‘Tehol, what’s all this about stealing their man? They were sharing one man? Is he still alive? Still sane? Did he volunteer at the Drownings?’

  ‘You want to see me work hard?’ Shand rose to her feet, reaching for the knife at her side.

  ‘Oh, how pathetic,’ Rucket said. ‘Here, compare that with my rapier here.’

  ‘Get her!’ This from Rissarh, as she launched herself across the table. It collapsed beneath her a moment later, but she had managed to wrap her arms about Rucket’s thighs. The Chief Investigator made a strange squealing sound as she was pulled over. The rapier sprang free and slapped hard against Shand’s out-thrust wrist, sending the knife spinning. Hejun then snagged Rucket’s sword-arm
and twisted the weapon loose. A finely polished boot shot up to strike Hejun in the belly. She groaned and sagged.

  Tehol pulled Bugg back a step. ‘I think you were right about this not being a good idea.’

  Grunts, meaty thuds and flying fists. Fleeing patrons, the yowl of a cat in the kitchen.

  Tehol sighed. ‘We should go. But first, arrange with the manager four bottles of fine wine, for when they’re finished beating on each other. I predict that by dawn they will all be fast friends.’

  ‘I’m not sure of that—’

  ‘Nonsense, Bugg, it’s the way of things. Come on, before they turn on us.’

  Not surprisingly, the bodyguard led the way out of the courtyard.

  Outside, Tehol brushed imaginary dust from his hands. ‘All in all, a fine evening, wouldn’t you say? Now, we should see if we can scrounge some firewood – or at least something that burns – on our way home. Roast cat beckons.’

  The crashing sounds from the restaurant courtyard suddenly increased.

  Tehol hesitated. ‘I’m tempted by the sounds of firewood production in there.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, master.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. Lead us on, Bugg. Home.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Expectancy stands alone

  And crowds the vast emptiness

  This locked chest of a chamber

  With its false floor the illusory

  Dais on which, four-legged

  carpentry of stretcher-

  bearers, crouches the throne

  Of tomorrow’s glory when

  The hunters come down

  From the cut-wood gloom

  Stung hard to pursuit

  The shadows of potentates

  And pretenders but he holds

  Fast, the privileged indifference

  That is fruitless patience

  Expectancy stands ever

  Alone before this eternally

  Empty, so very empty throne.

  Hold of the Empty Throne

  Kerrulict

  Ashes swirling on all sides, the river a snake of sludge spreading its stain into the dead bay, the Nerek youth squatted at the edge of the sacred land. Behind him, the others sat round their precious hearth and continued arguing. The youth knew enough to wait.