Midnight Tides

  ‘Not bad. But what if it starts clunking around in my head? Besides, bandannas are pathetically out of date as far as fashion goes. I would be mortified to be seen in public’

  ‘Selush might well have a solution to that, Shurq. A stopper with a diamond in it, or a patch of skin sewn over the hole.’

  ‘A diamond-studded plug. I like that.’

  ‘You’ll launch a new trend.’

  ‘Do you think Ublala will like it, Tehol?’

  ‘Of course he will. As for the clunking, well, that’s a definite problem. But it seems evident that you’re not using your brain. I mean, that physical stuff in there. Your soul is simply making use of the body, right? Probably out of a sense of familiarity. Given that, maybe we could pull it out—’

  ‘No. I like the idea of sawing it. And the diamond stopper. That sounds good. Now, can you bring Selush here?’

  ‘Right now?’

  ‘Well, as soon as possible. I don’t like walking around with it the way it is. Tell her I will pay for the inconvenience.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Needless to say, I’m miserable.’

  ‘Of course you are, Shurq.’

  ‘And I want Ublala. I want him now.’

  ‘I understand—’

  ‘No you don’t. I said I want him now. But that’s impossible. So you’ll have to do.’

  ‘Me? Oh dear. Does it bite?’

  ‘Only one way to find out, Tehol Beddict. Get out of those stupid clothes.’

  ‘So long as you don’t poke my eye out.’

  ‘Don’t make me – oh, right. I’ll be careful. I promise.’

  ‘Just so long as you understand, Shurq, I normally don’t do this with my employees. Especially dead ones.’

  ‘I don’t see why you had to bring that up. It’s not like I can help it.’

  ‘I know. But it’s, uh, well

  ‘Creepy?’

  ‘You’re lovely and all that, I mean, Selush was brilliant – the best work she’s ever done.’

  ‘Think how I feel, Tehol? Errant knows, you’re no Ublala.’

  ‘Why, thank you.’

  ‘Now, take your clothes off. I’m sure it won’t take long anyway.’

  ****

  The street was mostly unobstructed, allowing Moroch Nevath to make good time on his approach to the old palace. His horse would probably never fully recover from the journey down from High Fort. There was a Bluerose trainer in the palace, he had heard – although he had never seen the man – who was said to heal horses. If he found the time, he might hunt him down.

  A figure stepped into the street ahead.

  Recognizing the man, Moroch reined in. ‘Turudal Brizad.’

  ‘Finadd. I barely recognized you.’

  ‘You’re not alone in that, First Consort. Now, I am off to report to the Preda.’

  ‘You will find her in the throne room. Finadd, I may have need of you shortly.’

  Moroch scowled. ‘For what?’

  The man smiled. ‘Specifically, your skill with the sword.’

  ‘Who do you want me to kill, Brizad? Some irate husband, an outraged wife? I think Gerun Eberict would better suit your requirements in such matters.’

  ‘I wish it were that simple, Finadd. Ideally, I would seek out Brys oeddict, but he has other tasks before him—’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘The Preda will assign you to protection of the Royal Household, such as it is—’

  ‘That is the task of the King’s Champion.’

  ‘Yes. Meaning you will find yourself with some time on your hands.’

  Moroch’s scowl deepened. ‘I intend to accompany the Preda when she marches, First Consort.’

  Turudal sighed. ‘You are no longer trusted, Finadd. You failed both the prince and the queen. It would have been preferable had you diec in the endeavour at High Fort.’

  ‘I was injured. Separated from my charges. I could not even find ther once the battle commenced—’

  ‘Tragic, Finadd, but such stones make no splash on a frozen lake. What I offer you is an opportunity for redemption, for your name to be hailed in history. I am certain, Moroch Nevath, that you will receive no comparable offer from anyone else.’

  The Finadd studied the man standing before him. He’d always made Moroch’s skin crawl. Too slick, too perfumed. Too smug. Now more than ever. ‘There is nothing you can offer me—’

  ‘Finadd, I want you to kill a god.’

  Moroch sneered, said nothing.

  Turudal Brizad smiled, then said, ‘The god of the Jheck. And where can you find this god? Why, here in the city. Waiting for the arrival of its savage worshippers.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Kill the god, Moroch Nevath, and the Tiste Edur will lose their allies.’

  ‘We will speak more on this,’ the Finadd said in a growl. ‘But for now, I must go.’

  ‘Of course. You have my sympathies, by the way. I know you could have done nothing to save Quillas or Janall—’

  ‘Save your breath, First Consort.’ Moroch snapped the reins, sending his horse forward, forcing Turudal Brizad to step aside hastily to avoid being knocked down.

  ****

  Bugg found Kettle hunched against the door of the tower. She was shivering, knees drawn up, her head down.

  ‘Child?’

  A muffled reply. ‘Go away.’

  He crouched beside her. ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘I’m hungry. My stomach hurts. The bites itch.’

  ‘You’re alive, then.’ He saw her head nod. ‘And you’d rather be dead.’ Another nod. ‘We need to get you some new clothes. Some food, and water. We need to find you shelter – you can’t stay here any longer.’

  ‘But I have to! He needs my help!’

  Bugg rose. ‘I think I’ll walk the grounds.’

  ‘Don’t. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘I’ll be all right, lass. No need to worry about Grandfather Bugg. And then I’ll come back here, and you and I will head to the Downs Market.’

  She looked up then, regarded him with red-rimmed eyes that looked far older than the rest of her face. ‘I have no money.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Bugg said, smiling. ‘But a lot of people owe me.’

  He headed into the grounds. The earth was hot beneath his worn sandals. Most of the insects had died or moulted, their bodies crunching underfoot. Withered roots had been pushed to the surface, split and peeling. Stained fragments of bone were visible, pieces of skull and fractured long-bones, the occasional oversized vertebra. The crumpled remains of barrows were on all sides.

  So much history had been lost, destroyed beneath this steaming earth. A good thing, too, since most of it was unpleasant. Unfortunately, a few hoary nightmares remained. The meanest of the lot, in fact.

  And one of them had sworn to help. Against the others.

  All in all, Bugg decided, not a promising situation.

  ‘A stranger among us.’

  He halted, frowning. ‘Who speaks?’

  ‘My brothers welcome you. I welcome you. Come closer. Hold out your hand, draw us forth. Your rewards will be endless.’

  ‘So will my regret. No, I’m afraid I cannot oblige you, Toblakai.’

  ‘You have taken one step too many, stranger. It is too late. You we shall use—’

  A surge of power, rushing into Bugg’s mind, seeking domination – then gone.

  ‘No. Not you. Come no closer.’

  ‘I am sorry you found me so unpalatable.’

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘You and your brothers are in for a fight,’ Bugg said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘We cannot be defeated.’

  ‘Oh, how often those words are spoken. How many of your fellow Prisoners said much the same, at one time or another? Always the conceit of the moment.’

  ‘Hone of this is your concern.’

  ‘You are right, none of it is. But you should be warned, the child, Kettle, is not
to be harmed.’

  ‘She is nothing to us.’

  ‘Good. Make sure it stays that way.’

  ‘Be careful with your threats, stranger.’

  ‘Ah. You don’t understand, do you? Attack the child, and the one hiding within her will awaken. And that one will annihilate you, and probably everyone else just for good measure.’

  ‘Who is it that hides within the child?’

  ‘Its name? I don’t know. But it is Forkrul Assail.’

  ‘You are lying.’

  The manservant shrugged, swung about and made his way back to where Kettle waited. There was time still, he decided, to go shopping.

  ****

  King Ezgara Diskanar sat on his throne, motionless, pale as dusted marble, the lids of his eyes half lowered as he regarded First Eunuch Nifadas. The scene belonged to an artist, Brys decided. Heavy with gravitas, the colours dark and saturated, a great fall imminent. All here, in this frozen moment. The Eve before the Seventh Closure, the painter might call it, with quiet pleasure at the multitude of meanings hidden in the title.

  But there was no artist, no vulture to sit on the wings of civilization’s tottering construct, red-eyed and clucking. The audience consisted of Brys, First Concubine Nisall, Preda Unnutal Hebaz and four of the King’s Guard.

  The sun had dropped low enough outside to send shafts of lurid light through the stained glass panels set in the dome, brushing the motes with ugly hues. The air smelled of sweat and lantern smoke.

  ‘And this,’ King Ezgara finally said, ‘is what awaits my people.’

  The First Eunuch’s small eyes blinked. ‘Sire, the soldiers do not welcome the notion of new overlords. They will fight to defend you.’

  ‘I have seen scant evidence of that thus far, Nifadas.’

  The Preda spoke to that. ‘Sire, it quickly became evident that we could not match the enemy in the traditional manner, given the sorcery available to them. It was tactically incumbent that we withdraw, avoiding engagement—’

  ‘But now our backs are to the city’s wall, Preda.’

  ‘With time to prepare, as we have been doing since the first unit arrived at Brans Keep. Sire, we have never before fielded such a large army as that which is assembling there right now. Over two thousand trebuchets, fifteen hundred mangonels and three hundred triple-mounted Dresh ballistae. We have dug pits, trenches, traps. The mages have woven rituals across the entire battlefield. Our auxiliaries alone number over ten thousand—’

  ‘Untrained fodder, Preda. A terrible waste of citizenry. Are they even armed?’

  ‘Spears and shields, sire. Leather armour.’

  The king leaned back. ‘Nifadas. Still no word on the fate of my wife and son?’

  ‘Our emissaries do not return, sire.’

  ‘What does he want with them?’

  ‘I am at a loss to answer that,’ the First Eunuch admitted. ‘This Tiste Edur emperor is… unpredictable. Sire, despite the Preda’s confidence, I believe it would be wise to begin plans for your temporary displacement—’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Leaving Letheras, sire. Southeast, perhaps. Tallis on the Isle, or Truce.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sire—’

  ‘Nifadas, if I am to fall, then it will be here. I shall not bring destruction upon other cities, for it is destruction my presence will invite. The protectorates, should I be usurped, will fall in line. Peacefully, with no loss of life. This Tiste Edur emperor shall have his empire. For myself, if I must die, it will be here, on this very throne. Or, rather,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘on the one in the Eternal Domicile.’

  Silence. Then the Preda turned slowly to face Brys.

  He returned her regard dispassionately. The king had made his wishes known. If he would die on his throne, then his Champion would of necessity already be dead. There was no other path to Ezgara Diskanar, after all.

  ‘It is my intention, sire,’ Unnutal said, ‘that the situation you describe does not arise. The Tiste Edur will be thrown back. Beaten and broken.’

  ‘As you say,’ the king replied.

  These were not new considerations for Brys. Ever since the first defeats up north, he had been thinking about a final stand before his king. The passage leading into the throne room in the Eternal Domicile was relatively narrow. With four of his best guards he felt he could hold it for some time. But without relief his death would be inevitable. The least palatable thought of all, however, was the possibility of dying beneath sorcery. Against which he had no defence. The Ceda’s seeming descent into madness was the most painful blow of all. Should the enemy reach the palace, the loss of Kuru Qan would be decisive.

  Brys wanted to die honourably, but he was helpless to choose, and that stung.

  The doors opened behind him and he turned to see a guard step inside.

  ‘What now?’ the king asked.

  ‘Finadd Gerun Eberict, my lord,’ the guard announced.

  ‘Very well.’

  The man entered and bowed before the king. ‘Sire, I apologize for arriving late. There were household affairs to attend to—’

  ‘Taking precedence over an audience with your king, Finadd?’

  ‘Sire, in my absence my estate was broken into.’

  ‘I am grieved to hear that.’

  ‘A substantial portion of my wealth was stolen, sire.’

  ‘Careless, Gerun. It is never wise to hoard your coin.’

  ‘My security measures were extreme—’

  ‘Yet insufficient, it seems. Have you any clues regarding the brazen thief?’

  Gerun Eberict’s eyes flicked to Brys, then away again. ‘I have, sire. I believe I shall recover my losses shortly.’

  ‘I trust said activity will not prove too messy.’

  ‘I am confident, sire.’

  ‘And to what extent will this interfere with your duties here in the palace, Finadd?’

  ‘None whatsoever, sire. I am able to resume command of my company.’

  ‘Good. They have been busy quelling riots.’

  ‘I intend to bring an end to those riots, sire. You will have peace in Letheras by this evening.’

  ‘That leaves you little time, Gerun. Off you go, then, but be warned. I do not want a bloodbath.’

  ‘Of course, sire.’ Gerun Eberict bowed again, saluted the Preda, then left.

  The doors shut, then Ezgara said, ‘Brys Beddict, ready two hundred of your soldiers as clean-up crews. Expect at least one bloodbath before the twelfth bell tonight.’

  ‘At once, sire—’

  ‘Not yet. Why did Gerun glance to you when I enquired about the thief who struck his estate?’

  ‘I do not know, sire. I was wondering that myself.’

  ‘I trust your resident brother has not fallen to new depths.’

  ‘I do not believe so.’

  ‘Because Gerun Eberict is a formidable enemy.’

  Brys nodded his agreement.

  ‘Sire,’ the Preda said, ‘it is time for me to join my army.’

  ‘Go then, and may the Errant touch you with mercy.’

  As Unnutal bowed and strode towards the doors, Brys said to the king, ‘I beg my leave as well, sire.’

  ‘Go on, Champion. Once you have detailed your soldiers return here. I want you close, from now on.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  In the hall outside the throne room, Unnutal Hebaz was waiting. ‘He suspects Tehol.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Why?’

  Brys shook his head.

  ‘You had better warn him, Brys.’

  ‘Thank you for your concern, Preda.’

  She smiled, but it was a sad smile. ‘I admit to a certain fondness for Tehol.’

  ‘I was not aware of that,’ Brys said.

  ‘He needs some bodyguards.’

  ‘He has them, Preda. The Shavankrats.’

  Her brows lifted. ‘The triplets?’ Then she frowned. ‘I’ve not seen them about for some time, come to th
ink of it. Meaning you have anticipated Gerun Eberict, which in turn suggests you know more than you revealed to the king.’

  ‘My concern was not regarding Eberict, Preda.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Well, you need not inform those brothers to be extra vigilant, since I don’t think that is possible.’

  ‘Agreed, Preda.’

  She studied him briefly, then said. ‘Would that you could join us on the field of battle, Brys.’

  ‘Thank you for that, Preda. Errant be with you.’

  ‘I’d rather the Ceda,’ she said, then added, ‘I apologize. I know he was your friend.’

  ‘He still is,’ Brys said.

  She nodded, then departed, her boots echoing in the hallway.

  Brys stared after her. In a few days from now she might be dead.

  So might I.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Betrayer stands in the shadow of the Empty Throne.

  That is why it is empty.

  The Casting of the Tiles

  Ceda Parudu Erridict

  The mass of refugees had forced them from the main road, but Seren Pedac was familiar with all the old tracks winding through the countryside, the herder paths, quarry and logging roads, the smugglers’ trails. They were skirting an overgrown limestone quarry four leagues north from Brous as the sun sank behind the trees on their right.

  The Acquitor found herself riding alongside the mage, Corlo. ‘I have been wondering,’ she said. ‘The sorcery you use. I have never heard of magic that steals the will from its victims, that reaches into their minds.’

  ‘Not surprised,’ he said in a grunt. ‘Here in this backwater, all the sorcery is raw and ugly. No subtlety, no refinement of the powers. Yours is a land where most of the doors are closed. I doubt there’s been any innovation in the study of sorcery in the past ten thousand years.’

  ‘Thank you for those admiring sentiments, Corlo. Maybe you’d care to explain things for my ignorant self.’

  He sighed. ‘Where to start?’

  ‘Manipulating people’s minds.’

  ‘Mockra. That’s the warren’s name.’

  ‘All right, bad idea. Go back further. What’s a warren?’