be expunged.’
‘I know your hunger, Hannan Mosag-’
‘You do not!’ the Edur snapped, a shudder taking him. He edged closer into the chamber, then held up a mangled hand. ‘Look carefully upon me, woman. See what the Chained One’s sorcery does to the flesh-oh, we are bound now to the power of chaos, to its taste, its seductive flavour. It should never have come to this-’
‘So you keep saying,’ she cut in with a sneer. ‘And how would the great empire of Hannan Mosag have looked? A rain of flowers onto every street, every citizen freed of debt, with the benign Tiste Edur overseeing it all?’ She leaned forward. ‘You forget, I was born among your people, in your very tribe, Warlock King. I remember going hungry during the unification wars. I remember the cruelty you heaped upon us slaves-when we got too old, you used us as bait for beskra crabs-threw our old ones into a cage and dropped it over the side of your knarri. Oh, yes, drowning was a mercy, but the ones you didn’t like you kept their heads above the tide line, you let the crabs devour them alive, and laughed at the screams. We were muscle and when that muscle was used up, we were meat.’
‘And is Indebtedness any better-’
‘No, for that is a plague that spreads to every family member, every generation.’
Hannan Mosag shook his misshapen head. ‘I would not have succumbed to the Chained One. He believed he was using me, but I was using him. Feather Witch, there would have been no war. No conquest. The tribes were joined as one-I made certain of that. Prosperity and freedom from fear awaited us, and in that world the lives of the slaves would have changed. Perhaps, indeed, the lives of Letherii among the Tiste Edur would have proved a lure to the Indebted in the southlands, enough to shatter the spine of this empire, for we would have offered freedom.’
She turned away, deftly hiding the small leather bag. ‘What is the point of this, Hannan Mosag?’
‘You wish to bring down Rhulad-’
‘I will bring you all down.’
‘But it must begin with Rhulad-you can see that. Unless he is destroyed, and that sword with him, you can achieve nothing.’
‘If you could have killed him, Warlock King, you would have done so long ago.’
‘Oh, but I will kill him.’
She glared across at him. ‘How?’
‘Why, with his own family.’
Feather Witch was silent for a dozen heartbeats. ‘His lather cowers in fear. His mother cannot meet his eyes. Binadas and Trull are dead, and Fear has fled.’
‘Binadas?’ The breath hissed slowly from Hannan Mosag.
I did not know that.’
‘Tomad dreamed of his son’s death, and Hanradi Khalag quested for his soul-and failed.’
The Warlock King regarded her with hooded eyes. ‘And did my K’risnan attempt the same of Trull Sengar?’
‘No, why would he? Rhulad himself murdered Trull.
Chained him in the Nascent. If that was meant to be secret, it failed. We heard-we slaves hear everything-’
‘Yes, you do, and that is why we can help each other. Feather Witch, you wish to see this cursed empire collapse-so do I. And when that occurs, know this: I intend to take my Edur home. Back to our northlands. If the south is in flames, that is of no concern to me-I leave the Letherii to the Letherii, for no surer recipe for obliteration do any of us require. I knew that from the very start. Lether cannot sustain itself. Its appetite is an addiction, and that appetite exceeds the resources it needs to survive. Your people had already crossed that threshold, although they knew it not. It was my dream, Feather Witch, to raise a wall of power and so ensure the immunity of the Tiste Edur. Tell me, what do you know of the impending war in the east?’
‘What war?’
Hannan Mosag smiled. ‘The unravelling begins. Let us each grasp a thread, you at one end, me at the other. Behind you, the slaves. Behind me, all the K’risnan.’
‘Does Trull Sengar live?’
‘It is Fear Sengar who seeks the means of destroying Rhulad. And I mean for him to find it. Decide now, Feather Witch. Are we in league?’
She permitted herself a small smile. ‘Hannan Mosag, when the moment of obliteration comes… you had better crawl fast.’
‘I don’t want to see them.’
With these words the Emperor twisted on his throne, legs drawing up, and seemed to focus on the wall to his left. The sword in his right hand, point resting on the dais, was trembling.
Standing in an alcove to one side, Nisall wanted to hurry forward, reaching out for the beleaguered, frightened Edur.
But Triban Gnol stood facing the throne. This audience belonged to him and him alone; nor would the Chancellor countenance any interruption from her. He clearly detested her very presence, but on that detail Rhulad had insisted-Nisall’s only victory thus far.
‘Highness, I agree with you. Your father, alas, insisted I convey to you his wishes. He would greet his most cherished son. Further, he brings dire news-’
‘His favourite kind,’ Rhulad muttered, eyes flickering as if he was seeking an escape from the chamber. ‘Cherished? His word? No, I thought not. What he cherishes is my power-he wants it for himself. Him and Binadas-’
‘Forgive my interruption, Highness,’ Triban Gnol said, bowing his head. ‘There is news of Binadas.’
The Emperor flinched. Licked dry lips. ‘What has happened?’
‘It is now known,’ the Chancellor replied, ‘that Binadas was murdered. He was commanding a section of the fleet. There was a battle with an unknown enemy. Terrible sorcery was exchanged, and the remnants of both fleets were plunged into the Nascent, there to complete their battle in that flooded realm. Yet, this was all prelude. After the remaining enemy ships fled, a demon came upon Binadas’s ship. Such was its ferocity that all the Edur were slaughtered. Binadas himself was pinned to his chair by a spear flung by that demon.’
‘How,’ Rhulad croaked, ‘how is all this known?’
‘Your father… dreamed. In that dream he found himself a silent, ghostly witness, drawn there as if by the caprice of a malevolent god.’
‘What of that demon? Does it still haunt the Nascent? I shall hunt it down, I shall destroy it. Yes, there must be vengeance. He was my brother. I sent him, my brother, sent him. They all die by my word. All of them, and this is what my father will tell me-oh how he hungers for that moment, but he shall not have it! The demon, yes, the demon who stalks my kin…’ His fevered ramble trickled away, and so ravaged was Rhulad’s face that Nisall had to look away, lest she cry out.
‘Highness,’ the Chancellor said in a quiet voice.
Nisall stiffened-this was what Triban Gnol was working towards-all that had come before was for this precise moment.
‘Highness, the demon has been delivered. It is here, Emperor.’
Rhulad seemed to shrink back into himself. He said nothing, though his mouth worked.
‘A challenger,’ Triban Gnol continued. ‘Tarthenal blood, yet purer, Hanradi Khalag claims, than any Tarthenal of this continent. Tomad knew him for what he was the moment the giant warrior took his first step onto Edur bloodwood. Knew him, yet could not face him, for Binadas’s soul is in the Tarthenal’s shadow-along with a thousand other fell victims. They clamour, one and all, for both freedom and vengeance. Highness, the truth must now be clear to you. Your god has delivered him. To you, so that you may slay him, so that you may avenge your brother’s death.’
‘Yes,’ Rhulad whispered. ‘He laughs-oh, how he laughs. Binadas, are you close? Close to me now? Do you yearn for freedom? Well, if I cannot have it, why should you? No, there is no hurry now, is there? You wanted this throne, and now you learn how it feels-just a hint, yes, of all that haunts me.’
‘Highness,’ the Chancellor murmured, ‘are you not eager to avenge Binadas? Tomad-’
Tomad!’ Rhulad jolted on the throne, glared at Triban Gnol-who visibly rocked back. ‘He saw the demon slay
