‘Well, I doubt if anyone will complain. You and Buruk have waited here some time, I take it.’
‘Yes. Some time. There was an audience with the Warlock King, but in keeping with my role I departed before anything of substance was discussed. And as to what was said, neither Hull nor Buruk has revealed anything.’
‘Hull was there for that, was he?’ He swung a faint smile on her. ‘Nothing of substance was revealed to you, Acquitor? I admit to having trouble quite believing that assertion.’
Seren Pedac hesitated.
‘Acquitor,’ Nifadas said in a low voice, ‘the privilege of neutrality no longer exists in this matter. Make your choice.’
‘It is not that, First Eunuch,’ she said, knowing her claim was untrue. ‘I have a fear that whatever position the Warlock King may have chosen back then is no longer relevant.’ She glanced over at him. ‘I do not think Rhulad will relinquish that sword.’
‘Rhulad. What can you tell me of this Rhulad?’
‘Youngest son of a noble family, the Sengar.’
‘The Sengar? Eldest son is Fear, yes? Commander of the Edur warriors. Prestigious blood, then.’
‘Yes. Another brother is Binadas, who is blood-sworn with Hull Beddict.’
‘Interesting. I begin to grasp the complexity awaiting us, Acquitor.’
And so, it seems, do I. For I appear to have made my choice.
As if Nifadas gave me any other option, as I walk here arm in arm with the First Eunuch…
‘Wake up, Udinaas.’
Lids slid back from stinging, burning eyes. Udinaas stared up at the angled wall above him. ‘No. I need to sleep—’
‘Not so loud. What you need, fool, is to walk to the citadel.’
‘Why? They’ll cut my throat for intruding—’
‘No, they won’t. Rhulad won’t let them, for you are his slave now, and no one else’s. They must be informed. The Letherii delegation awaits.’
‘Leave me be, Wither.’
‘The Tiste Edur emperor wants you. Now.’
‘Right. And does he know it?’
‘Not yet.’
‘As I thought.’ He closed his eyes once more. ‘Go away, wraith.’
‘The Wyval and I are in agreement in this, Udinaas. You must step to the forefront. You must make yourself invaluable to Rhulad. Tell me, do you want Feather Witch for your own or not?’
Udinaas blinked, then sat up. ‘What?’
‘Go now, and you will see.’
‘Not until you explain that, Wither.’
‘I shall not, slave. Go to the citadel. Serve the Edur emperor.’
Udinaas pulled aside his blankets and reached for his sodden moccasins. ‘Why don’t you all leave me alone.’
‘She raped you, Udinaas. She took your seed. Why did she do that?’
He went still, one moccasin on, the other cold in his hands. ‘Menandore.’
‘The bitch has designs, she does. No love for Edur or Andii, no, not her.’
‘What has that to do with anything?’
The wraith made no reply.
Udinaas rubbed at his face, then pulled on the second moccasin and tugged at the soaked leather ties. ‘I am a slave, Wither. Slaves are not given slaves, and that is the only way I could win Feather Witch. Unless you plan on invading her mind and twisting her will. In which case, it won’t be Feather Witch, will it?’
‘You accord me powers I do not possess.’
‘Only to emphasize the absurdity of your promises, Wither. Now, be quiet. I’m going.’ He rose and stumbled from the cell. Hulad was crouched by the hearth, heating soup or stew.
‘You were talking to yourself, Udinaas. You shouldn’t do that.’
‘That’s what I keep telling myself,’ he replied, making his way to the doors, collecting a rain cape on the way.
Outside, the rain was a deluge. He could barely make out the anchored ships in the bay. There were figures on the strand. Soldiers.
He pulled up the hood then headed for the citadel that had once belonged to the Warlock King.
Serve the Edur emperor. And where will you take your people, Rhulad Sengar?
The shadow wraiths guarding the entrance made no move to oppose the Letherii slave as he ascended the steps. Both hands on the doors, pushing them aside, striding in on a gust of pelting rain. Come, you damned Edur. Slide a blade across my throat. Through my chest. There were no guards within the reception chamber, and the curtain beyond was drawn closed.
He shook the rain from his cape, then continued forward.
To the curtains. He pulled them aside.
To see the Edur kneeling. All of them, kneeling before the glimmering form of Rhulad Sengar, who stood on the dais, the sword raised in one hand above his head. Bear fur on his shoulders, face a rippling mask of gold surrounding the deep holes of his eye sockets.
Not blind, then. Nor crippled. And if this was madness, then it was a poison riding the chamber’s thick currents.
Udinaas felt the emperor’s eyes fix on him, as palpable as talons digging into his mind. ‘Approach, slave,’ he said, his voice ragged.
Heads lifted and turned as Udinaas threaded through the crowd, making his way down the tiers. The Letherii did not glance at any faces, his gaze focused solely on Rhulad Sengar. In his peripheral vision he saw Hannan Mosag, kneeling with head bowed, and behind him his K’risnan in identical positions of subservience.
‘Speak, Udinaas.’
‘The delegation has arrived, Emperor.’
‘We are bound, are we not, Udinaas? Slave and master. You heard my summons.’
‘I did, master.’ Lies, he realized, were getting easier.
‘The delegation waits in the merchant’s camp. Bring them to us, Udinaas.’
‘As you command.’ He bowed, then began the laborious effort of backing out.
‘There is no need for that, Udinaas. I am not offended by a man’s back. Go, and tell them that the ruler of the Edur will greet them now.’
Udinaas swung about and made his way from the chamber.
Beneath the rain once more, across the bridge. Solitude might invite thought, but Udinaas refused the invitation. The fog of the world beyond was mirrored in his own mind. He was a slave. Slaves did what was commanded of them.
Woodsmoke drifting out from under a broad canopy near the trader wagons. Figures standing beneath it. Acquitor Seren Pedac turned and saw him first. Yes. There is more in her than she realizes. The ghosts like her, hovering like moths around a candle flame. She doesn’t even see them. He watched her say something, then the others swung to face him.
Udinaas halted just outside the tarp, keeping his gaze averted. ‘The ruler of the Edur bids you come to the citadel.’
A soldier growled, then said, ‘You stand before your prince, Letherii. Drop to your knees or I’ll cut your head from your shoulders.’
‘Then draw your sword,’ Udinaas replied. ‘My master is Tiste Edur.’
‘He is nothing,’ said the young, expensively dressed man at the soldier’s side. A flutter of one hand. ‘We are invited, finally. First Eunuch, will you lead us?’
The large, heavy man with a face as sombre as his clothes stepped out to stand beside Udinaas. ‘Acquitor, please accompany us.’
Seren Pedac nodded, drawing her cloak’s hood over her head and joining the First Eunuch.
Udinaas led them back across the bridge. A wind had begun whipping the rain in biting sheets that ripped across their path. Among the longhouses of the nobility, then towards the steps.
Shadow wraiths swirled before the door.
Udinaas faced Quillas Diskanar. ‘Prince, your bodyguards are not welcome.’
The young man scowled. ‘Wait here with your men, Finadd.’
Moroch Nevath grunted, then directed his guards to fan out to either side of the citadel’s entrance.
The wraiths edged back to provide a corridor to the double doors.
Udinaas strode forward and pushed them open, moved insi
de then turned about. A step behind him were Nifadas and the Acquitor, the prince, his expression dark, trailing.
The First Eunuch frowned at the curtain at the far end. ‘The throne room is filled with Edur nobles? Then why do I hear nothing?’
‘They await your arrival,’ Udinaas said. ‘The ruler of the Tiste Edur stands on the centre dais. His appearance will startle you—’
‘Slave,’ Quillas said, making the word contemptuous, ‘we are not anticipating that the negotiations will commence immediately. We are but to be proclaimed guests—’
‘I am not the one to guarantee that,’ Udinaas cut in, unperturbed. ‘I would advise that you be ready for anything.’
‘But this is absurd—’
‘Let us be about it, then,’ the First Eunuch said.
The prince was not used to these constant interruptions, his face flushing.
Acquitor Seren Pedac spoke. ‘Udinaas, by your words I conclude that Hannan Mosag has been usurped.’
‘Yes.’
‘And Rhulad Sengar has proclaimed himself the new king of the Tiste Edur.’
‘No, Acquitor. Emperor.’
There was silence for a half-dozen heartbeats, then the prince snorted in disbelief. ‘What empire? Six tribes of seal-hunters? This fool has gone mad.’
‘It is one thing,’ Nifadas said slowly, ‘to proclaim oneself an emperor. It is another to force the Edur nobility to bend knee to such a claim. Udinaas, have they done so?’
‘They have, First Eunuch.’
‘That is…astonishing.’
‘Hannan Mosag?’ Seren asked.
‘He too has knelt and pledged allegiance, Acquitor.’
Once again no-one spoke for a time.
Then the First Eunuch nodded to Udinaas and said, ‘Thank you. I am ready to meet the emperor now.’
Udinaas nodded and approached the curtain. Pulling it aside, he stepped through into the chamber beyond. The nobles had moved to form an avenue leading down to the centre dais. Everyone was standing. On the dais, Rhulad Sengar leaned on his sword. His motions had dislodged a few coins, leaving mottled patches of burnt skin. Humidity, heat and oil lamps made the air mist-laden and lurid. Udinaas sought to look upon the scene as if he was a stranger, and was shocked at its raw barbarity. These are a fallen people.
Who would rise anew.
The First Eunuch and the Acquitor appeared on the threshold, and Nifadas moved to his left to give space for Prince Quillas Diskanar.
Udinaas raised his voice. ‘Emperor. First Eunuch Nifadas and Prince Quillas Diskanar. The Letherii treaty delegation.’
‘Come forward,’ came the rasping invitation from the emperor. ‘I am Rhulad Sengar, and I proclaim you guests of the Tiste Edur Empire.’
Nifadas bowed his head. ‘We thank your highness for his welcome.’
‘It is the desire of the Letherii king to establish a formal treaty with us,’ Rhulad said, then shrugged. ‘I was under the impression we already had one. And, while we honour it, your people do not. Thus, what value a new agreement?’
As the First Eunuch was about to speak, Quillas stepped forward. ‘You confiscated a harvest of tusked seals. So be it. Such things cannot be reversed, can they? None the less, there is the matter of debt.’
Udinaas smiled, not needing to look up to see the shocked expressions from the gathered nobility.
‘Hannan Mosag,’ Rhulad said after a moment, ‘will speak for the Edur in this matter.’
Udinaas glanced up to see the once-Warlock King stepping forward to stand in front of the dais. He was without expression. ‘Prince, you will need to explain how you Letherii have arrived at the notion of debt. The harvest was illegal—do you deny it?’
‘We do not—no, Nifadas, I am speaking. As I was saying to you, Hannan Mosag, we do not dispute the illegality of the harvest. But its illegality does not in turn refute the reality that it took place. And that harvest, conducted by Letherii, is now in Edur hands. The present treaty, you may recall, has an agreed market value for tusked seals, and it is this price we expect to be honoured.’
‘Extraordinary logic, Prince,’ Hannan Mosag said, his voice a smooth rumble.
‘We are, fortunately,’ Quillas continued, ‘prepared for a compromise.’
‘Indeed?’
Udinaas wondered why Nifadas was remaining silent. His lack of interruption could only be interpreted as tacit allegiance to the prince and the position he was advocating.
‘A compromise, yes. The debt shall be forgiven, in exchange for land. Specifically, the remainder of Trate Reach, which, as we both know, serves only as seasonal fishing camps for your people. Such camps would not be prohibited, of course. They shall remain available to you, for a modest percentage of your catch.’
‘As it now stands, then,’ Hannan Mosag said, ‘we begin this treaty in your debt.’
‘Yes.’
‘Based upon the presumption that we possess the stolen harvest.’
‘Well, of course—’
‘But we do not possess it, Prince Quillas Diskanar.’
‘What? But you must!’
‘You are welcome to visit our store houses for yourself,’ Hannan Mosag went on reasonably. ‘We punished the harvesters, as was our right. But we did not retrieve the harvest.’
‘The ships arrived in Trate with their holds empty!’
‘Perhaps, in fleeing our wrath, they discharged their burden, so as to quicken their pace. Without success, as it turned out.’ As the prince simply stared, Hannan Mosag went on, ‘Thus, we are not in your debt. You, however, are in ours. To the market value of the harvested tusked seals. We are undecided, at the moment, on the nature of recompense we will demand of you. After all, we have no need of coin.’
‘We have brought gifts!’ Quillas shouted.
‘For which you will then charge us, with interest. We are familiar with your pattern of cultural conquest among neighbouring tribes, Prince. That the situation is now reversed earns our sympathy, but as you are wont to say, business is business.’
Nifadas finally spoke. ‘It seems we have much to consider, the two of us, Emperor. Alas, our journey has been long and wearying. Perhaps you could permit us to retire for a time, to reconvene this meeting on the morrow?’
‘Excellent idea,’ Rhulad said, the coins on his face twisting as he smiled. ‘Udinaas, escort the delegation to the guest longhouse. Then return here. A long night awaits us.’
The prince stood like a puppet with its strings cut. The faces of the Acquitor and the First Eunuch, however, remained composed.
Even so, it seems we are all puppets here…
Trull Sengar watched the slave lead the Acquitor and the delegation out of the chamber. The world had not crumbled, it had shattered, and before his eyes he saw the jagged pieces, a chamber fissured and latticed, a thousand shards bearing countless reflected images. Edur faces, broken crowds, the smear of smoke. Disjointed motion, a fevered murmur of sound, the liquid glint of gold and a sword as patched and fragmented as everything else in sight.
Like a crazed mosaic, slowly being reassembled by a madman’s hand. He did not know where he belonged, where he fit. Brother to an emperor. It is Rhulad, yet it is not. I don’t know him. And I know him all too well and, Daughter take me, I am frightened most by that.
Hannan Mosag had been speaking quietly with Rhulad, conveying an ease with his new role that Trull knew was intended to calm the witnesses gathered here. Trull wondered what it was costing the Warlock King.
A nod and a wave of the hand dismissed Hannan Mosag, who retreated to stand near his K’risnan. At Rhulad’s instructions a large chair was carried to the dais, and the emperor sat, revealing to Trull’s knowing gaze his brother’s exhaustion. It would take time to acquire the strength necessary to sustain that vast, terrible weight for any length of time. The emperor settled his head back and looked out upon the nobles. His attention quickly silenced the crowd.
‘I have known death,’ Rhulad said, his voice
rough. ‘I have returned, and I am not the same, not the unblooded warrior you saw before we began our journey to the ice wastes. I have returned, to bring to you the memory of our destiny. To lead you.’ He was silent then, as if needing to recover from his short speech. A dozen heartbeats, before he continued, ‘Fear Sengar. Brother, step forward.’
Fear did as commanded, halting on the inner ring in front of the dais.
Rhulad stared down at him, and Trull saw a sudden hunger in those brittle eyes.
‘Second only to Hannan Mosag’s, your loyalty, Fear, is my greatest need.’
Fear looked rattled, as if such a matter did not need to be questioned.
The slave Udinaas returned then, but held back, his red-rimmed eyes scanning the scene. And Trull wondered at the sudden narrowing of that Letherii’s gaze.
‘What, Emperor,’ Fear said, ‘do you ask of me?’
‘A gift, brother.’
‘All I have is yours—’
‘Are you true to that claim, Fear?’ Rhulad demanded, leaning forward.
‘I would not make it otherwise.’
Oh. No, Rhulad—no—
‘The emperor,’ Rhulad said, settling back, ‘requires an empress.’
Comprehension cast a pall on Fear’s face.
‘A wife. Fear Sengar, will you gift me a wife?’
You grotesque bastard—Trull stepped forward.
Rhulad’s hand snapped out to stay him. ‘Be careful, Trull. This is not your concern.’ He bared stained teeth. ‘It never was.’
‘Must you break those who would follow you?’ Trull asked.
‘Another word!’ Rhulad shrieked. ‘One more word, Trull, and I will have you flayed alive!’
Trull recoiled at the vehemence, stunned into silence.
A coin clattered onto the dais as Rhulad lifted a hand to his face and clawed at some extremity of emotion, then he snatched his hand away and held it before him, watching it curl into a fist. ‘Kill me. That is all you need do. For your proof. Yes, kill me. Again.’ The glittering eyes fixed on Trull. ‘You knew I was alone, guarding the rear slope. You knew it, Trull, and left me to my fate.’
‘What? I knew no such thing, Rhulad—’
‘No more lies, brother. Fear, gift me your betrothed. Give me Mayen. Would you stand between her and the title of empress? Tell me, are you that selfish?’
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