A long moment of silence. The five Onyx Wizards faced a nonplussed Silchas Ruin, who seemed at a loss for words.
‘It is,’ said Penith Vinandas, ‘a question of . . . compassion.’
‘We are not fools,’ said Ordant Brid. ‘We cannot oppose you. Perhaps, however, we can guide you. The journey to the place you seek is arduous – the path is not straight. Silchas Ruin, it is with some astonishment that I tell you that we have reached something of a consensus on this. You have no idea how rare such a thing is – granted, I speak of a compromise, one which sits uneasier with some of us than with others. Nonetheless, we have agreed to offer you a guide.’
‘A guide? To lead me on this crooked path, or tug me ever astray from it?’
‘Such deceit would not work for very long.’
‘True; nor would I be merciful upon its discovery.’
‘Of course.’
Silchas Ruin crossed his arms. ‘You will provide us with a guide. Very well. Which of you has volunteered?’
‘Why, none of us,’ said Ordant Brid. ‘The need for us here prevents such a thing. As you said, a spear of ice is directed at us, and while we cannot shatter it, perhaps we can . . . redirect it. Silchas Ruin, your guide shall be the Mortal Sword of the Black-Winged Lord.’ At that, the wizard gestured.
Clip rose to his feet, then began his descent to the Disc of Concordance. The chain and its rings appeared in his hand, whirring, then snapping, then whirring out again.
‘He is Anomander’s Mortal Sword?’ Silchas Ruin asked in obvious disbelief as he stared up at this meeting’s audience of one.
Clip smiled. ‘Do you think he would be displeased?’
After a moment, the brother of Rake grimaced, then shook his head. ‘Probably not.’
‘Come the morrow,’ Ordant Brid said, ‘we will begin preparing the way for the continuation of your journey.’
Reaching the edge of the lowest tier, Clip dropped lightly onto the polished stone of the Disc, then approached Silchas Ruin, the chain in his hand spinning and clacking.
‘Must you always do that?’ Silchas Ruin demanded.
‘Do what?’
Silchas Ruin walked into the chamber, followed a moment later by the Tiste Andii, Clip.
Seren Pedac felt a sudden chill, although she could not determine its source. Clip was smiling, but it was a cynical smile, and it seemed his eyes held steady on Fear Sengar, as if awaiting some kind of challenge.
‘Acquitor,’ said Silchas Ruin, releasing the clasp of his cloak as he walked over to the stone table against a far wall, where waited wine and food, ‘at least one mystery has been answered.’
‘Oh?’
‘The preponderance of wraiths here in the Andara, the countless ghosts of dead Tiste Andii – I know why they are here.’
‘I am sorry, I did not know this place was crowded with wraiths. I’ve not even seen Wither lately.’
He glanced across at her, then poured himself a goblet of wine. ‘It is extraordinary,’ he murmured, ‘how something as basic as the absence of a taste on the tongue can prove the most excruciating torture . . . when one is buried for thousands of years.’
She watched him take a mouthful of the watery wine, watched him savour it. Then he said, ‘Time, Acquitor. The Omtose Phellack ritual, which froze all in place, defied Hood himself – apologies, Hood is the Lord of Death. The ghosts – they had nowhere to go. Easily captured and enslaved by the Tiste Edur, but many others managed to evade that fate, and they are here, among their mortal kin. The Onyx Wizards speak of compassion and balance, you see . . .’
No, I do not, but I think that is of no matter. ‘Will the wizards help us?’
A wry grimace from Silchas Ruin, then he shrugged. ‘Our fell party now has a new member, Acquitor, who is charged with guiding us to what we seek.’
Fear Sengar, suddenly tense, stepped close to Clip. ‘Tiste Andii,’ he said, ‘know this, please. I possess no enmity towards you or your people. If indeed you will lead us to where the soul of Scabandari is bound, I will be in your debt – indeed, all of the Edur will be in your debt.’
Clip grinned. ‘Oh, you don’t want that, warrior.’
Fear seemed taken aback.
‘You,’ said Silchas Ruin to the Tiste Edur, ‘pose the gravest threat to these Andii. Your kind has good reason to hunt down every last one of them; nor are the Letherii well disposed to them, given their resistance to the annexation – a resistance that continues to this day. Bluerose does not appreciate being occupied; nor do the humans who lived in peace alongside those possessing Andii blood in their veins hold any loyalty to the Letherii conquerors. When the Onyx Order ruled, it was a distant sort of rule, reluctant to interfere in daily activities and making few demands on the populace. And now, Fear Sengar, your kind rule the Letherii, compounding the resentment seething in Bluerose.’
‘I cannot speak for the empire,’ Fear said. ‘Only for myself. Yet I believe that, should events transpire in the manner I desire, then true liberation may be the reward granted by the Edur for their assistance – to the entire province of Bluerose and all its inhabitants. Certainly, I would argue for that.’
Clip’s laugh was sardonic.
The chain spun to wrap tight around his right hand, yet that served as his only comment to these grave pronouncements and bold promises.
Seren Pedac felt sick inside. Clip, this maddening pup with his chain and rings, his ever-mocking expression . . .
Oh, Fear Sengar, do not trust this one. Do not trust him at all.
‘Are you certain you want to do this, Overseer?’
Brohl Handar glanced across at the Atri-Preda. ‘This expedition is to be punitive, Bivatt. No formal proclamation of war has been made – the missive from Letheras is very clear on this. Apparently, it falls under my duties as Overseer to ensure that the engagement does not exceed its parameters. You march to hunt down and destroy those who slaughtered the settlers.’
Her eyes remained on the columns of Letherii and Edur troops marching along the road. Dust hung in the air, staining the sky’s bright blue. The sound from the army reminded Brohl Handar of broken ice groaning and crunching its way down a river. Bivatt spoke. ‘That is precisely my intention, Overseer. That and nothing more, as I have been commanded.’
He studied her for a moment longer, then shifted on the saddle to ease the strain on his lower back – he preferred admiring horses from afar to perching atop the damned things. It seemed they understood his distaste and reciprocated in kind, and this one was in the habit of tossing its head as it drew up from every canter, clearly seeking to crack Brohl’s chin. The Atri-Preda told him he leaned too far forward, and the horse knew it and saw the error as an opportunity to inflict damage. The Tiste Edur was not looking forward to this journey. ‘Nonetheless,’ he finally said, ‘I will accompany you.’
He knew she was unhappy with the prospect. Yet he had his own bodyguards, from his own tribe. His own carriage and driver and team of oxen. More than enough supplies to ensure they were not a burden on the military train.
‘I remain concerned for your safety,’ she said.
‘No need. I have every confidence in my Arapay—’
‘Forgive me, Overseer, but hunting seals is not the same as—’
‘Atri-Preda,’ Brohl Handar interrupted in turn, ‘my warriors faced crack Letherii soldiers in the conquest, and it was your Letherii who broke. Seals? Indeed, some of them weighing as much as an ox, with tusks longer than a shortsword. And white-furred bears, and cave-dwelling bears. Short-legged wolves and pack wolves. And, one should not forget, Jheck shape-shifters. Did you imagine the white wastes of the north are empty lands? Against what an Arapay must face every day, the Letherii were no great threat. As for protecting me from the Awl, presumably such a need would only arise following the rout of your forces. We shall have a K’risnan of the Den-Ratha, as well as your mage cadre. In short,’ he concluded, ‘your concerns ring false. Tell me, Atri-Preda, what was the substa
nce of your secret meeting with Factor Letur Anict?’
The question, voiced as an afterthought, seemed to strike her like a blow, and the eyes she fixed on him were wide, alarmed, until something darker swirled to life. ‘Financial discussions, Overseer,’ she said in a cold tone. ‘An army needs to eat.’
‘The financing of this punitive expedition is provided by the Imperial Treasury.’
‘Said funds managed by the Factor. After all, that is the function of being a factor, sir.’
‘Not in this instance,’ Brohl Handar replied. ‘Disbursement is being managed by my office. In fact, it is Edur coin that is sponsoring this expedition. Atri-Preda, you should in the future be certain of the facts before you contrive to lie. Now, it would seem that you are to proceed under the burden of two sets of orders. I do hope for the sake of your peace of mind that the two do not prove conflicting.’
‘I should imagine not,’ she said tightly.
‘Are you confident of that, Atri-Preda?’
‘I am, sir.’
‘Good.’
‘Overseer, a number of the settlers killed originated from within the Factor’s own household.’
Brohl’s brows lifted. ‘The desire for a most bloody vengeance must be overwhelming, then, for poor Letur Anict.’
‘At that meeting, sir, I simply reiterated my intent to exact the necessary punishment against the murderers. The Factor sought reassurance, which I was pleased to give him under the circumstances.’
‘In other words, Letur Anict was somewhat alarmed that his control over the management of the expedition had been taken away, for such a decision was unprecedented. One must assume he is intelligent enough to recognize – once he has calmed down somewhat – that the move indicates disapproval of his recent excesses.’
‘I would not know, sir.’
‘I shall be interested to gauge his humility upon our triumphant return, Atri-Preda.’
She said nothing.
Of course, he added to himself, there would probably be much more to Letur Anict’s response at that time, given that there was, in fact, nothing truly official in any of this. The Factor’s cronies in the palace – the Letherii servants of, it was likely, the Chancellor – would be outraged upon discovering this circumvention; but this time it was the Edur who had organized this minor usurpation, a working of the tribes, the linkage established via the K’risnan and the Edur staffs of various overseers. There was vast risk in all this – the Emperor himself knew nothing of it, after all.
Letur Anict needed to be reined in. No, more than that, the man needed hobbling. Permanently. If Brohl had his way, there would be a new Factor of Drene within a year, and as for Letur Anict’s holdings, well, the crime for high treason and corruption at the scale he had managed would without doubt result in their confiscation, with all familial rights stripped away, and restitution at such high level that the Anict line would be Indebted for generations to come.
He is corrupt. And he has spun a deadly web here, from Drene out into every bordering nation. He seeks war with all of our neighbours. Unnecessary war. Pointless beyond the covetous greed of one man. Such corruption needed excision, for there were plenty of Letur Anicts in this empire, thriving under the protection of the Liberty Consign and, quite possibly, the Patriotists. This man here would be the example and the warning.
You Letherii think us fools. You laugh behind our backs. Mock us in our ignorance of your sophisticated deceptions. Well, there is more than one kind of sophistication, as you shall discover.
Finally, Brohl Handar no longer felt helpless.
Atri-Preda Bivatt fumed in silence. The damned fool at her side was going to get himself killed, and she would be made responsible for that failure to protect him. K’risnan and Arapay bodyguards would achieve nothing. The Factor’s agents infected every Letherii legion on this march, and among those agents . . . Errant-damned assassins. Masters of the Poison.
She liked this warrior at her side, dour as he was – which seemed a trait of the Tiste Edur in any case. And though clearly intelligent, he was also . . . naive.
It was clear that Letur Anict had penetrated the pathetic unofficial efforts of Brohl Handar and a half-dozen other overseers, and the Factor intended to eliminate this nascent threat here and now. On this very expedition.
‘We have a problem with Brohl Handar,’ the Factor had said, his pale round face looking like dusty stone in the habitual gloom of his inner sanctum.
‘Sir?’
‘Unsanctioned, he seeks to exceed his responsibilities, and in so doing undermine the traditional functions of a factor in a border province. His ambitions have drawn others into his web, which could, alas, have fatal repercussions.’
‘Fatal? How?’
‘Atri-Preda, I must tell you. No longer are the Patriotists focusing exclusively on the Letherii in the empire. There has come to light evidence of an emerging conspiracy among the Tiste Edur – against the state, possibly against the Emperor himself.’
Absurd. Do you truly take me for such a fool, Anict? Against the state and against the Emperor are two different things. The state is you and people like you. The state is the Liberty Consign and the Patriotists. The state is the Chancellor and his cronies. Against them, the notion of a conspiracy among the Tiste Edur to rid the empire of Letherii corruption seemed more than plausible. They had been occupiers long enough to come to understand the empire they had won; to begin to realize that a far more subtle conquest had taken place, of which they were the losers.
The Tiste Edur were, above all else, a proud people. Not likely to abide defeat, and the fact that the victors were, by their measure, cowards in the true sense of the term would sting all the more. So she was not surprised that Brohl Handar and his fellow Edur had at last begun a campaign of eradication against the Letherii running the state. Not surprising, either, the extent to which the Edur have underestimated their enemy.
‘Sir, I am an officer in the Imperial Army. My commander is the Emperor himself.’
‘The Emperor rules us all, Atri-Preda,’ Letur Anict had said with a faint smile. ‘The conspiracy among his kind directly threatens his loyal support structure – those who endeavour, at great personal sacrifice, to maintain that apparatus.’
‘People such as yourself.’
‘Indeed.’
‘What are you asking of me, sir?’
‘Brohl Handar will insist on accompanying your punitive expedition. I believe it is his intent to claim territories reconquered for himself ‘ – a wave of one hand – ‘no doubt in the name of the empire or some such meaningless nonsense.’
You mean, as you have done?
‘I will try to talk him out of it,’ she said. ‘It’s not safe—’
‘Indeed it isn’t. Precisely my point.’ After a moment, Letur Anict leaned back. ‘You will, alas, not win your argument.
The Overseer will march with you, accepting the risks.’
The risks, yes. Imagining they come from the Awl.
‘I will do all I can to preserve his life,’ Bivatt said.
A spread of hands. ‘Of course. That is your duty, and we both know how treacherous the Awl can be, especially as they are now commanded by none other than Redmask. Who can say what dread ambushes he has contrived to spring upon you, with the principal aim of murdering commanders and other important personages. Indeed, Atri-Preda, you have your duty and I would expect no less from you. But I do remind you, Brohl Handar is engaged in treason.’
‘Then have Orbyn Truthfinder arrest him.’ If he dares, for that will bring it all out into the open, and you’re not ready for that.
‘We will,’ the Factor then said, ‘be prepared for his return.’
So soon? ‘Has the Emperor been informed of these developments, sir?’
‘He has. The Patriotists would not be engaged in this hunt were it not so – I am sure you understand that, Atri-Preda.’
She believed she did. Even Karos Invictad would not proceed without some
sort of sanction. ‘Is that all, sir?’
‘It is. Errant smile on your hunt, Atri-Preda.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
And now, everything had proceeded to match the Factor’s predictions. Brohl Handar would accompany the expedition, refuting her every argument against the idea. Reading his expression, she saw a renewed confidence and will – the Overseer felt as if he had found, at last, firm footing. No error in his recognition of his true enemy. The unmitigated disaster lay in the Edur’s belief that he had made the first move.
She said now to the Overseer, ‘Sir, if you will excuse me. I must have words with my officers.’
‘Of course,’ Brohl Handar replied. ‘When do you anticipate contacting the enemy?’
Oh, you fool, you already have. ‘That depends, sir, on whether they’re fleeing, or coming straight for us.’
The Overseer’s brows lifted. ‘Do you fear this Redmask?’
‘Fear that yields respect is not a bad thing, sir. In that fashion, yes, I fear Redmask. As he will me, before too long.’
She rode away then, down to her troops, seeking out, not an officer, but one man in particular, a horseman among the Bluerose, taller and duskier than most.
After a time she found him, gestured him to ride out to her side, and they walked their horses along one edge of the road. She spoke of two things, one loud enough to be heard by others and concerning the health of the mounts and other such mundane details; the other in much quieter tones, which no-one but the man could hear.
‘What can you see of the horizon’s bruised smear, that cannot be blotted out by a raised hand?’
Redmask glanced over at the foreigner.
Anaster Toc smiled. ‘Lying in a ditch amidst the wastes of humanity is something I would recommend to any nascent poet. The rhythms of ebb and flow, the legacy of what we discard. Wealth like liquid gold.’
Not entirely sane any more, Redmask judged, unsurprised. Skin and bones, scabbed and stained with fiery, peeling rashes. At least he could now stand without the aid of a stick, and his appetite had returned. Before long, Redmask believed, the foreigner would recover, at least physically. The poor man’s mind was another matter.