‘We are Tiste Edur. We ruled an entire realm, once. We crossed swords with the gods of this world-’
‘And lost.’
‘Were betrayed.’
‘I seem to recall you shared our mother’s doubts-’
‘I was mistaken. Lured into weakness. We all were. But we must now cast that aside, Trull. Binadas understands. So does our father. Theradas and Midik Buhn as well, and those whom the emperor has proclaimed his brothers of blood. Choram Irard, Kholb Harat and Matra Brith-’
‘His unblooded friends of old,’ Trull cut in, with a wry smile. ‘The three he always defeated in contests with sword and spear. Them and Midik.’
‘What of it?’
‘They have earned nothing, Fear. And no amount of proclaiming can change that. Yet Rhulad would have us take orders from those-’
‘Not us. We too are brothers of blood, you forget. And I still command the warriors of the six tribes.’
‘And how do you think the other noble warriors feel? They have all followed the time-honoured path of blooding and worthy deeds in battle. They now find themselves usurped-’
‘The first warrior under my command who complains will know the edge of my sword.’
‘That edge may grow dull and notched.’
‘No. There will be no rebellion.’
After a moment, Trull nodded. ‘You are probably right, and that is perhaps the most depressing truth yet spoken this day.’
Fear stood. ‘You are my brother, Trull, and a man I admire. But you walk close to treason with your words. Were you anyone else I would have silenced you by now. With finality. No more, Trull. We are an empire now. An empire reborn. And war awaits us. And so I must know – will you fight at the sides of your brothers?’
Trull leaned his back against the rough wall. He studied Fear for a moment, then asked, ‘Have I ever done otherwise?’
His brother’s expression softened. ‘No, you have not. You saved us all when we returned from the ice wastes, and that is a deed all now know, and so they look upon you with admiration and awe. By the same token, Trull, they look to you for guidance. There are many who will find their decisions by observing your reaction to what has happened. If they see doubt in your eyes…’
‘They will see nothing, Fear. Not in my eyes. Nor will they find cause for doubt in my actions.’
‘I am relieved. The emperor shall be calling upon us soon. His brothers of blood.’
Trull also rose. ‘Very well. But for now, brother, I feel in need of solitude.’
‘Will that prove dangerous company?’
‘Leave me now, Hannan Mosag,’ the emperor said, his voice revealing sudden exhaustion. ‘And take the K’risnan with you. Everyone, go – not you, slave. Mayen, you too, wife. Please go.’
The sudden dismissal caused a moment of confusion, but moments later the chamber was vacated barring Rhulad and Udinaas. To the slave’s eyes, Mayen’s departure looked more like flight, her gait stilted as if driven by near hysteria.
There would be more moments like this, Udinaas suspected. Sudden breaks in the normal proceedings. And so he was not surprised when Rhulad beckoned him closer, and Udinaas saw in the emperor’s eyes a welling of anguish and terror.
‘Stand close by me, slave,’ Rhulad gasped, fierce trembling sweeping over him. ‘Remind me! Please! Udinaas-’
The slave thought for a moment, then said, ‘You died. Your body was dressed for honourable burial as a blooded warrior of the Hiroth. Then you returned. By the sword now in your hand, you returned and are alive once more.’
‘Yes, that is it. Yes.’ A laugh that rose to a piercing shriek, stopping abruptly as a spasm ripped through Rhulad. He gaped, as if in pain, then muttered, ‘The wounds…’
‘Emperor?’
‘No matter. Just the memory. Cold iron pushing into my body. Cold fire. I tried. I tried to curl up around those wounds. Up tight, to protect what I had already lost. I remember…’
Udinaas was silent. Since the emperor would not look at him, he was free to observe. And arrive at conclusions.
The young should not die. That final moment belonged to the aged. Some rules should never be broken, and whether the motivation was compassionate or coldly calculated hardly mattered. Rhulad had been dead too long, too long to escape some kind of spiritual damage. If the emperor was to be a tool, then he was a flawed one.
And what value that?
‘We are imperfect.’
Udinaas started, said nothing.
‘Do you understand that, Udinaas?’
‘Yes, Emperor.’
‘How? How do you understand?’
‘I am a slave.’
Rhulad nodded. His left hand, gauntleted in gold, lifted to join his right where it gripped the handle of the sword. ‘Yes, of course. Yes. Imperfect. We can never match the ideals set before us. That is the burden of mortality.’ A twisted grimace. ‘Not just mortals.’ A flicker of the eyes, momentarily fixing on the slave’s own, then away again. ‘He whispers in my mind. He tells me what to say. He makes me cleverer than I am. What does that make me, Udinaas? What does that make me?’
‘A slave.’
‘But I am Tiste Edur.’
‘Yes, Emperor.’
A scowl. ‘The gift of a life returned.’
‘You are Indebted.’
Rhulad flinched back in his chair, his eyes flashing with sudden rage. ‘We are not the same, slave! Do you understand? I am not one of your
‘I am sorry, Emperor. It is true. You are not an Indebted. Nor, perhaps, are you a slave. Although perhaps it feels that way, at times. When exhaustion assails you.’
‘Yes, that is it. I am tired. That’s all. Tired.’
Udinaas hesitated, then asked, ‘Emperor, does he speak through you now?’
A fragile shake of the head. ‘No. But he does not speak through me. He only whispers advice, helps me choose my words. Orders my thoughts – but the thoughts are mine. They must be. I am not a fool. I possess my own cleverness. Yes, that is it. He but whispers
‘You have not eaten,’ Udinaas said. ‘Nor drunk anything. Do you know hunger and thirst, Emperor? Can I get you something to replenish your strength?’
‘Yes, I would eat. And… some wine. Find a servant.’
‘At once, master.’
Udinaas walked to the small curtain covering the entrance to the passage that led to the kitchens. He found a servant huddled in the corridor a dozen paces from the door. Terrified eyes glistened up at him as he approached. ‘On your feet, Virrick. The emperor wants wine. And food.’
‘The god would eat?’
‘He’s not a god. Food and drink, Virrick. Fit for an emperor, and be quick about it.’
The servant scrambled up, seemed about to bolt.
‘You know how to do this,’ Udinaas said in a calm voice. ‘It’s what you have been trained to do.’
‘I am frightened-’
‘Listen to me. I will tell you a secret. You always like secrets, don’t you, Virrick?’
A tentative nod.
‘It is this,’ Udinaas said. ‘We slaves have no reason to fear. It is the Edur who have reason, and that gives us
