Karos Invictad walked in, straight for her.
She saw him twist the lower half of the sceptre, saw a short knife-blade emerge from the sceptre’s base.
Nisall looked up, met the man’s eyes.
And saw, in them, nothing human.
He thrust the blade into her chest, into her heart. Then twice more as she sagged, falling to strike the chair.
She saw the floor come up to meet her face, heard the crack of her forehead, felt the vague sting, then darkness closed in. Oh, Tissin—
Bruthen Trana shouldered a wounded guard aside and entered Invictad’s office.
The Master of the Patriotists was stepping back from the crumpled form of Nisall, the sceptre in his hand – the blade at its base – gleaming crimson. ‘Her confession demanded—’
The Tiste Edur walked to the desk, kicking aside the toppled chair. He picked up the sheet of vellum, squinted to make out the Letherii words. A single line. A statement. A confession indeed. For a moment, he felt as if his heart stuttered.
In the corridor, Tiste Edur warriors. Bruthen Trana said without turning, ‘K’ar Penath, collect the body of the First Concubine—’
‘This is an outrage!’ Karos Invictad hissed. ‘Do not touch her! ‘
Snarling, Bruthen Trana took one stride closer to the man, then lashed out with the back of his left hand.
Blood sprayed as Karos Invictad staggered, sceptre flying, his shoulder striking the wall – more blood, from mouth and nose, a look of horror in the man’s eyes as he stared down at the spatter on his hands.
From the corridor, a warrior spoke in the Edur language. ‘Commander. The other woman has been beheaded.’
Bruthen Trana carefully rolled the sheet of vellum and slipped it beneath his hauberk. Then he reached out and dragged Karos Invictad to his feet.
He struck the man again, then again. Gouts of blood, broken teeth, threads of crimson spit.
Again. Again.
The reek of urine.
Bruthen Trana took handfuls of the silk beneath the flaccid neck and shook the Letherii, hard, watching the head snap back and forth. He kept shaking him.
Until a hand closed on his wrist.
Through a red haze, Bruthen Trana looked over, met the calm eyes of K’ar Penath.
‘Commander, if you continue so with this unconscious man, you will break his neck.’
‘Your point, warlock?’
‘The First Concubine is dead, by his hand. Is it for you to exact this punishment?’
‘Sister take you,’ Bruthen Trana growled, then he flung Karos Invictad to the floor. ‘Both bodies come with us.’
‘Commander, the Chancellor—’
‘Never mind him, K’ar Penath. Wrap well the bodies. We return to the Eternal Domicile.’
‘What of the dead Letherii below?’
‘His guards? What of them? They chose to step into our path, warlock.’
‘As you say. But with their healer dead, some of them will bleed out unless we call upon—’
‘Not our concern,’ Bruthen Trana said.
K’ar Penath bowed. ‘As you say, Commander.’
Half blind with terror, Tanal Yathvanar approached the entrance to the headquarters. She was gone. Gone, from that place, that most hidden place – her shackle snapped, the iron bent and twisted, the links of the chain parted as if they were nothing but damp clay.
Karos Invictad, it was your work. Again. Yet another warning to me – do as you command. You know all, you see all. For you, nothing but games, ones where you make certain you always win. But she was not a game. Not for me, you bastard. I loved her – where is she? What have you done with her?
Slowly, it registered upon him that something was amiss. Guards running in the compound. Shouts, wavering torchlight. The front entrance to the building yawned wide – he saw a pair of boots, attached to motionless legs, prone across the threshold.
Errant take us, we have been attacked!
He hurried forward.
A guard emerged, stepping over the body.
‘You!’ shouted Tanal. ‘What has happened here?’
A rough salute. The man’s face was pale. ‘We have called for healers, sir—’
‘What has happened, damn you?’
‘Edur – a vicious ambush – we did not expect—’
‘The Master?’
‘Alive. But beaten badly. Beaten, sir, by a Tiste Edur! The liaison – Trana – Bruthen Trana—’
Tanal Yathvanar pushed past the fool, into the hallway, to the stairs. More bodies, guards cut down without so much as their weapons drawn. What initiated this from the Edur? Did they catch word of our investigations? Bruthen Trana – does his file remain? Damn him, why didn’t he just kill the bastard? Choke the life from him – make his face as red as those damned silks? Oh, I would run this differently indeed. Given the chance—
He reached the office, stumbled to a halt upon seeing the spattered blood on the walls, the pools of it on the floor. The reek of piss was heavy in the air. Looking small and broken, Karos Invictad sat hunched in his oversized chair, stained cloths held to his swollen, bruised face. In the man’s eyes, a rage as sharp as diamonds. Fixing now upon Tanal Yathvanar.
‘Master! Healers are on the way—’
From mashed lips, muffled words: ‘Where were you? ‘
‘What? Why, at home. In bed.’
‘We arrested Nisall tonight.’
Tanal looked about. ‘I was not informed, sir—’
‘No – no-one could find you! Not at your home – not anywhere!’
‘Sir, has Bruthen Trana retrieved the whore, then?’
A hacking, muffled laugh. ‘Oh yes. Her cold flesh – but not her spirit. But he carries her written confession – by the Holds, it hurts to speak! He broke my face! ‘
And how many times did your fist do the same to a prisoner? ‘Will you risk some wine, sir?’
A glare above the cloths, then a sharp nod.
Tanal went quickly to the cabinet. Found a clay jug containing undiluted wine. A better smell than – the piss of your terror, little man. He poured a goblet, then hesitated – and poured another for himself. Damn you, why not? ‘The healers will be here soon – I informed the guards that any delay risks their lives.’
‘Swift-thinking Tanal Yathvanar.’
He carried the goblet over to Karos Invictad, not sure if there was irony in that last statement, so distorted was the voice. ‘The guards were struck unawares – vicious betrayal—’
‘Those that aren’t yet dead will wish they were,’ the Master of the Patriotists said. ‘Why weren’t we warned? Chancellor or no, I will have his answer.’
‘I did not think we’d take the whore yet,’ Tanal said, retrieving his own wine. He watched over the rim of the goblet as Karos pulled the soaked cloth away, revealing the terrible assault done on his face as he gingerly sipped at the wine – wincing as the alcohol bit into gashes and cuts. ‘Perhaps the Edur should have been first. Bruthen Trana – he did not seem such a viper. He said not a word, revealed nothing—’
‘Of course not. Nor would I in his place. No. Wait, observe, then strike without warning. Yes, I underestimated him. Well, such a failing occurs but once. Tonight, Tanal Yathvanar, a war has begun. And this time the Letherii will not lose.’ Another sip. ‘I am relieved,’ he then said, ‘that you got rid of that academic – too bad you did not get Nisall to play with, but I needed to act quickly. Tell me how you disposed of her – the academic. I need some satisfying news for a change . . .’
Tanal stared at the man. If not you . . .
From the corridor, rushing feet. The healers had arrived.
‘Commander,’ K’ar Penath said as he hurried alongside Bruthen Trana, ‘do we seek audience with the Emperor?’
‘No. Not yet. We will watch all of this play out for a time.’
‘And the bodies?’
‘Hide them well, warlock. And inform Hannan Mosag that I wish to speak to him. As soon
as possible.’
‘Sir, he is not in the Emperor’s favour at the moment—’
‘You misunderstand me, warlock. This has nothing to do with Rhulad. Not yet. We conquered this empire. It seems the Letherii have forgotten that. The time has come to stir the Tiste Edur awake once more. To deliver terror, to make our displeasure clear. This night, K’ar, the weapons are drawn.’
‘You speak of civil war, Commander.’
‘In a manner of speaking, although I expect nothing overt from the Chancellor or Invictad. A war, yes, but one waged behind the Emperor’s back. He will know nothing—’
‘Commander—’
‘Your shock at my words does not convince me. Hannan Mosag is no fool – nor are you or any of his other warlocks. Tell me now you anticipated nothing . . . ah, I thought as much.’
‘I fear we are not ready—’
‘We aren’t. But neither were they. This taking Nisall – this murder – tells me something gave them reason to panic. We need to find out what. Something has happened, or is happening even now, that forced matters to a head. And that is the trail Hannan Mosag must pursue – no, I do not presume to command him—’
‘I understand, Bruthen Trana. You speak as a Tiste Edur. I will support your advice to the Warlock King with all my zeal.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Tonight, Commander,’ K’ar Penath said, ‘in witnessing you . . . I was proud. We are . . . awakened, as you said. This civilization, it is a poison. A rot upon our souls. It must be excised.’
And now I hear Hannan Mosag speaking through you, warlock. Answering other . . . suspicions. So be it.
Nisall. First Concubine, I am sorry. But know this, I will avenge you in truth. As I will avenge my brave warrior – Sister take me, that was careless—
‘The Chancellor will speak to the Emperor—’
‘Only if he is stupid,’ Bruthen Trana said, ‘or inclined to panic. He is neither. No, he needs to be pushed, kept off balance – oh, we will deliver panic, yes, and sooner or later he will do as you say. Speak to Rhulad. And then we will have him. And Invictad. Two snakes in the same basket – a basket soaked in oil. And it will be Triban Gnol himself who strikes the spark.’
‘How?’
‘You will see.’
* * *
Tehol stared down through the roof hatch in unmitigated horror. ‘That was a mistake,’ he said.
Leaning beside him, also looking down, Bugg nodded. ‘It was an act of mercy, Master. Twelve hens in a sack, half crushing each other, jostled about in fetid darkness. There was the risk of suffocation.’
‘Precisely! Peaceful demise, remote, unseen. No wringing of necks required! But now look at them! They’ve taken over our room! My house. My abode, my very hearth—’
‘About that – seems one of them has caught fire, Master.’
‘It’s smouldering, and too brainless to care. If we wait we can dine on roast chicken for breakfast. And which one laid that egg?’
‘Hmm, a most gravid mystery indeed.’
‘You may find this amusing right now, Bugg, but you are the one who will be sleeping down there. They’ll peck your eyes out, you know. Evil has been bred into them, generation after generation, until their tiny black bean brains are condensed knots of malice—’
‘You display unexpected familiarity with hens, Master.’
‘I had a tutor who was a human version.’
Bugg leaned back and glanced over at the woman sleeping in Tehol’s bed.
‘Not her. Janath was only mildly vicious, as properly befits all instructors, plagued as they often are by mewling, lovestruck, pimply-faced students.’
‘Oh, Master, I am sorry.’
‘Be quiet. We’re not talking about that. No, instead, Bugg, my house has been invaded by rabid hens, because of your habit of taking in strays and the like.’
‘Strays? We’re going to eat those things.’
‘No wonder strays avoid you these days. Listen to them – how will we sleep with all that racket going on?’
‘I suppose they’re happy, Master. And in any case they are taking care of that cockroach infestation really fast.’
Creaking from the bed behind them drew their attention.
The scholar was sitting up, looking about in confusion.
Tehol hastily pushed Bugg towards her.
She frowned as the old man approached. ‘Where am I? Who are you? Are we on a roof?’
‘What do you last recall?’ Bugg asked.
‘Being alone. In the dark. He moved me . . . to a new place.’
‘You have been freed,’ he said.
Janath was examining her shapeless, rough tunic. ‘Freed,’ she said in a low voice.
‘That shift was all we could find at short notice,’ Bugg said. ‘Of course, we will endeavour to, uh, improve your apparel as soon as we are able.’
‘I have been healed.’
‘Your physical wounds, yes.’
Grimacing, she nodded. ‘The other kind is rather more elusive.’
‘You seem remarkably . . . sound, Janath.’
She glanced up at him. ‘You know me.’
‘My master was once a student of yours.’ He watched as she sought to look past him, first to one side, then the other. Bemused, Bugg turned, to see Tehol moving back and forth in an effort to keep the manservant between himself and the woman on the bed. ‘Tehol? What are you doing?’
‘Tehol? Tehol Beddict?’
Bugg spun round again, to see Janath gathering her tunic and stretching it out here and there in an effort to cover as much of her body as she could.
‘That lecherous, pathetic worm? Is that you, Tehol? Hiding there behind this old man? Well, you certainly haven’t changed, have you? Get out here, front and centre!’
Tehol stepped into view. Then bridled. ‘Hold on, I am no longer your student, Janath! Besides, I’m well over you, I’ll have you know. I haven’t dreamt of you in . . . in . . . years! Months!’
Her brows rose. ‘Weeks?’
Tehol drew himself straighter. ‘It is well known that an adult man’s adolescent misapprehensions often insinuate themselves when said man is sleeping, in his dreams, I mean. Or, indeed, nightmares—’
‘I doubt I feature in your nightmares, Tehol,’ Janath said. ‘Although you do in mine.’
‘Oh, really. I was no more pathetic than any other pathetic, lovestruck student. Was I?’
To that she said nothing.
Bugg said to her, ‘You are indeed on a roof—’
‘Above a chicken coop?’
‘Well, as to that. Are you hungry?’
‘The fine aroma of roasting chicken is making my mouth water,’ she replied. ‘Oh, please, have you no other clothes? I have no doubt at all what is going on in my former student’s disgusting little brain right now.’
‘Come the morning,’ Bugg said, ‘I will pay a visit to Selush – her wardrobe, while somewhat abysmal in taste, is nonetheless extensive.’
‘Want my blanket?’ Tehol asked her.
‘Gods below, Master, you’re almost leering.’
‘Don’t be insane, Bugg. I was making light. Ha ha, we’re trapped in a dearth of attire. Ha ha. After all, what if that had been a child’s tunic?’
In a deadpan voice, Janath said, ‘What if it had.’
‘Errant’s blessing,’ Tehol said with a loud sigh, ‘these summer nights are hot, aren’t they?’
‘I know one hen that would agree with you,’ Bugg noted, walking back to the hatch, from which a column of smoke was now rising.
‘Tehol Beddict,’ said Janath, ‘I am glad you are here.’
‘You are?’ both Bugg and Tehol asked.
She nodded, not meeting their eyes. ‘I was going mad – I thought I had already done so. Yathvanar – he beat me, he raped me . . . and told me of his undying love all the while. So, Tehol, you are as his opposite – harmless in your infatuation. You remind me of better days.’ She was silent for a long moment.
‘Better days.’
Bugg and Tehol exchanged a look, then the manservant made his way down the ladder. From above he heard Tehol say, ‘Janath, are you not impressed with what I have done with my extensive education?’
‘It is a very fine roof, Tehol Beddict.’
Nodding to himself, Bugg went in search of roasted chicken through clouds of acrid smoke. Surrounded on all sides by mindless clucking. Abyss take me, I might as well be in a temple . . .
The morning sun pushed through the slats on the shutters, stretching ribbons of light across the long, heavy table dominating the council room. Wiping his hands with a cloth, Rautos Hivanar entered and moved to stand behind his chair at one end of the table. He set the cloth down and studied the arrayed faces turned towards him – and saw in more than one expressions of taut fear and anxiety.
‘My friends, welcome. Two matters on the agenda. We will first address the one that I suspect is foremost in your minds at the moment. We have reached a state of crisis – the dearth of hard coin, of silver, of gold, of cut gems and indeed of copper bars, is now acute. Someone is actively sabotaging our empire’s economy—’
‘We knew this was coming,’ interrupted Uster Taran. ‘Yet what measures were taken by the Consign? As far as I can see, none. Rautos Hivanar, as much on the minds of those assembled here is the question of your continued position as Master.’
‘I see. Very well, present to me your list of concerns in that regard.’
Uster’s craggy face reddened. ‘List? Concerns? Errant take us, Rautos, have you not even set the Patriotists on the trail of this mad creature? Or creatures? Could this not be an effort from the outside – from one of the border kingdoms – to destabilize us prior to invasion? News of this Bolkando Conspiracy should have—’
‘A moment, please. One issue at a time, Uster. The Patriotists are indeed pursuing an investigation, without result to date. A general announcement to that effect, while potentially alleviating your anxieties, would have been, in my judgement, equally likely to trigger panic. Accordingly, I chose to keep the matter private. My own inquiries, in the meantime, have led me to eliminate external sources to this financial assault. The source, my friends, is here in Letheras—’
‘Then why haven’t we caught the bastard?’ demanded Druz Thennict, his head seeming to bob atop its long, thin neck.