A full score of champions looked on, indicating that word had travelled, and Samar Dev saw-with shock-the Gral, Taralack Veed, and, behind him, Icarium. Gods below, the name, the Jhag… all that I know, all that 1 have heard. Icarium is here. A champion.
He will leave this city a heap of rubble. He will leave its citizens a mountain of shattered bones. Gods, look at him! Standing calm, so deep in shadow as to be almost invisible-Karsa does not see him, no. The Toblakai’s focus rests on the Seguleh, as he circles her at a distance. And she moves like a cat to ever face him.
Oh, she is a fighter all right.
And Karsa will throw her over the damned wall.
If she dares close. As she must. Get inside that huge flint sword.
Over the wall. Or through it.
Her heart pounded, the beat rapid, disturbingly erratic.
She sensed someone at her side and saw, with a jolt of alarm, a Tiste Edur-and she then recognized him. Preda… Tomad. Tomad Sengar.
The Emperor’s father.
Karsa, you don’t want this audience-
An explosion of motion as the two contestants closed-afterwards, none could agree on who moved first, as if some instinctive agreement was reached between the Seguleh and Karsa, and acted upon faster than thought itself.
And, as iron rang on stone-or stone on iron-Karsa Orlong did something unexpected.
Pounded down with one foot. Hard onto the packed sand.
In the midst of the Seguleh’s lithe dance.
Pounded down, hard enough to stagger onlookers as the entire compound floor thundered.
The Seguleh’s perfect balance… vanished.
No doubt it was but a fraction, the dislodging so minor few would even register it, and no doubt her recovery was as instantaneous-but she was already reeling back to a savage blow with the flat of Karsa’s blade, both wrists broken by the impact.
Yet, as she toppled, she twisted, one foot lashing upward towards the Toblakai’s crotch.
He caught her kick with one hand, blocking the blow, then boldly lifted her into the air.
She swung the other foot.
And the Toblakai, laughing, released his sword and snagged that leg as well.
And held her there.
Dangling.
Behind Taralack Veed, there was a soft sigh, and the Gral, blinking, turned round.
Icarium smiled. Then said in a low voice, ‘We have met, I think. He and I. Perhaps long ago. A duel that was interrupted.’
By Mappo. Has to be. Mappo, who saw a storm coming between these two. Oh, Trell…
Taralack licked dry lips. ‘Would you resume that duel, Icarium?’
The Jhag’s brows lifted fractionally. Then he shook his head, leaving that as his answer. Thank the spirits.
From Preda Tomad Sengar, a grunt.
‘These games,’ Samar Dev ventured, drawing his attention, ‘they are intended to entertain, yes? Each contest more challenging than the last.’
The Tiste Edur eyed her, expressionless, then he said, ‘Among the audience, there are those who are entertained.’
‘Yes.’
After a moment, he added, ‘Yes, this Tarthenal will come last. The decision was unanimous among our observers.’ Then he shrugged and said, ‘I came to see for myself. Although my judgement has no relevance.’
‘That Seguleh was very good,’ Samar Dev said.
‘Perhaps. But she has sparred with no others.’
‘They hold her in great respect.’
‘Even now? When will he set her down?’
She shook her head.
Tomad Sengar turned away. ‘The Tarthenal is superb.’
‘And yet your son is better.’
This halted him once more and he stared back at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Your Tarthenal is superb,’ he repeated. ‘But he will die anyway.’
The Tiste Edur walked away.
Finally responding to shouts and entreaties from the onlookers, Karsa Orlong set the woman down onto the ground.
Three Letherii healers rushed in to tend to her.
Collecting his sword, Karsa straightened, then looked round.
Oh, thought Samar Dev, oh no.
But Icarium was gone. As was his Gral keeper.
The Toblakai walked towards her.
‘I didn’t need to know,’ she said.
‘No, you knew already.’
Oh, gods!
Then he drew closer and stared down at her. ‘The Jhag fled. The Trell who was with him is gone. Probably dead. Now there is a desert warrior I could break with one hand. There would have been none to stop us, this Icarium and me. He knew that. So he fled.’
‘You damned fool, Karsa. Icarium is not the kind of warrior who spars. Do you understand me?’
‘We would not have sparred, Samar Dev.’
‘So why spend yourself against him? Is it not these Edur and their Letherii slaves you seek vengeance against?’
‘When I am finished with their Emperor, I will seek out Icarium. We will finish what we began.’
‘Beware gathering the men before the battering ram, Karsa Orlong.’
‘A foolish saying,’ he pronounced after a moment.
‘Oh, and why is that?’
‘Among the Teblor, men are the battering ram. Look upon me, Samar Dev. I have fought and won. See the sweat on my muscles? Come lie with me.’
‘No, I feel sick.’
‘I will make you feel better. I will split you in two.’
‘That sounds fun. Go away.’
‘Must I hunt down another whore?’
‘They all run when they see you now, Karsa Orlong. In the opposite direction, I mean.’
He snorted, then looked round. ‘Perhaps the Seguleh.’
‘Oh, really! You just broke her arms!’
‘She won’t need them. Besides, the healers are mending her.’
‘Gods below, I’m leaving.’
As she strode away, she heard his rumbling laugh. Oh, I
know you make sport of me.l know and yet I fall into your traps every time. You are too clever, barbarian. Where is that thick’
skulled savage? The one to match your pose?
Dragging mangled legs, every lurch stabbing pain along the length of his bent, twisted spine, Hannan Mosag squinted ahead, and could just make out the scree of river-polished stones rising like a road between the cliffs of the gorge. He did not know if what he was seeing was real.
Yet it felt right.
Like home.
