Ahlrada Ahn stepped close. ‘Finish him, Trull Sengar.’
All of Trull’s anger was gone. ‘I see no need for that-’
‘Then you are a fool. He will not forget-’
‘I trust not.’
‘Fear must be told of this. Canarth must be punished.’
‘No, Ahlrada Ahn. Not a word.’ He raised his gaze, looked northward. ‘Let us greet Binadas and my father. I would hear tales of bravery, of fighting.’
The dark-skinned warrior’s stare faltered, flickered away. ‘Sisters take me, Trull, so would I.’
There were no old women to walk this field, cutting rings from fingers, stripping lightly stained clothing from stiffening corpses. There were no vultures, crows and gulls to wheel down to the vast feast. There was nothing to read of the battle now past, no sprawl of figures cut down from behind – not here, in the centre of the basin – no last stands writ in blood-splashed heaps and encircling rings of bodies. No tilted standards, held up only by the press of cold flesh, with their sigils grinning down. Only bones and gleaming iron, white teeth and glittering coins.
The settling dust was a soft whisper, gently dulling the ground and its random carpet of human and Edur detritus.
The emperor and his chosen brothers were approaching the base of the slope as Udinaas reached them. Their crossing of the field had stirred up a trail of dust that hung white and hesitant in their wake. Rhulad held his sword in his left hand, the blade wavering in the dim light. The uneven armour of gold was dark-tracked with sweat, the bear fur on the emperor’s shoulders the muted silver of clouds.
Udinaas could see in Rhulad’s face that the madness was close upon him. Frustration created a rage capable of lashing out in any direction. Behind the emperor, who began climbing up the slope to where Hannan Mosag waited, scrambled Theradas and Midik Buhn, Choram Irard, Kholb Harat and Matra Brith. All but Theradas had been old followers of Rhulad, and Udinaas was not pleased to see them. Nor, from the dark looks cast in his direction, were they delighted with the slave’s arrival.
Udinaas almost laughed.
As Udinaas moved to catch up to Rhulad – who’d yet to notice him – Theradas Buhn stepped into his path as if by accident, then straight-armed the slave in the chest. He stumbled back, lost his footing, and fell onto the slope, sliding back down to its base.
The Edur warriors laughed.
A mistake. The emperor spun round, eyes searching, recognizing Udinaas through the clouds of dust. It was not difficult to determine what had just happened. Rhulad glared at his brothers. ‘Who struck down my slave?’
No-one moved, then Theradas said, ‘We but crossed paths, sire. An accident.’
‘Udinaas?’
The slave was picking himself up, brushing the dust from his tunic. ‘It was as Theradas Buhn said, Emperor.’
Rhulad bared his teeth. ‘A warning to you all. We will not be tried this day.’ He wheeled round and resumed his climb.
Theradas glared at Udinaas, and said in a low voice, ‘Do not believe I now owe you, slave.’
‘You will discover,’ the slave said, moving past the warrior, ‘that the notion of debt is not so easily denied.’
Theradas reached for his cutlass, then let his hand drop with a silent snarl.
Rhulad reached the crest.
Those still below heard Hannan Mosag’s smooth voice, ‘The day is won, Emperor.’
‘The kingdom lies cowering at your feet, sire-’
‘Thousands of Edur are
Udinaas reached the summit. And saw Rhulad advancing upon the Warlock King, the sword lifting into the air.
Sudden fear in Hannan Mosag’s red-rimmed eyes. ‘Emperor!’
Rhulad whirled, burning eyes fixing upon Udinaas. ‘We are challenged by our slave?’ The sword-blade hissed through the air, although ten paces spanned the distance between them.
‘No challenge,’ Udinaas said quietly as he approached. Until he stood directly in front of the emperor. ‘I but called out to inform you, sire, that your brothers are coming.’ The slave pointed eastward, where figures were crossing the edge of the basin. ‘Fear, Binadas and Trull, Emperor. And your father, Tomad.’
Rhulad squinted, blinking rapidly as he studied the distant warriors. ‘Dust has blinded us, Udinaas. It is them?’
‘Yes, Emperor.’
The Edur wiped at his eyes. ‘Yes, that is well. Good, we would have them with us, now.’
‘Sire,’ Udinaas continued, ‘a fragment of Letherii sorcery sought out the encampment of the women during the battle. Your mother and some others defeated the magic. Uruth is injured, but she will live. Three Hiroth women died.’
The emperor lowered the sword, the rage flickering in his frantic, bloodshot eyes, flickering, then fading. ‘We sought battle, Udinaas. We sought… death.’
‘I know, Emperor. Perhaps in Letheras…’
A shaky nod. ‘Yes. Perhaps. Yes, Udinaas.’ Rhulad’s eyes suddenly bored into the slave’s own. ‘Those towers of bone, did you see them? The slaughter, their flesh…’
The slave’s gaze shifted momentarily past the emperor, found Hannan Mosag. The Warlock King was staring at Rhulad’s back with dark hatred. ‘Sire,’ Udinaas said in a low voice, ‘your heart is true, to chastise Hannan Mosag. When your father and brothers arrive. Cold anger is stronger than hot rage.’
‘Yes. We know this, slave.’
‘The battle is over. All is done,’ Udinaas said, glancing back over the field. ‘Nothing can be… taken back. It seems the time has come to grieve.’
‘We know such feelings, Udinaas. Grief. Yes. Yet what of cold anger?
What of…’
The sword flinched, like a hackle rising, like lust awakened, and the slave saw nothing cold in Rhulad’s eyes.
‘He has felt its lash already, Emperor,’ Udinaas said. ‘All that remains is your disavowal… of what has just passed. Your brothers and your father will need to hear that, as you well know. From them, to all the Edur. To all the allies. To Uruth.’ He added, in a rough whisper, ‘They would complicate you, sire – those gathered and gathering even now about you and your power. But you see clear and true, for that is the terrible gift of pain.’
Rhulad was nodding, staring now at the approaching figures. ‘Yes. Such a terrible gift. Clear and true…’
‘Sire,’ Hannan Mosag called out.
A casual wave of the sword was Rhulad’s only response. ‘Not now,’ he said in a rasp, his gaze still fixed on his father and brothers.
Stung, face darkening with humiliation, the Warlock King said no more.
Udinaas turned and watched the warriors of the Sengar line begin the ascent.
Theradas Buhn, standing nearby, then said, ‘A great victory, sire.’
‘We are pleased,’ Rhulad said, ‘that you would see it so, Theradas Buhn.’
Reaching the crest, Binadas moved ahead and settled to one knee before Rhulad. ‘Emperor.’
‘Binadas, on this day were you ours, or were you Hannan Mosag’s?’
A confused expression as Binadas looked up. ‘Sire, the army of Tomad Sengar has yet to find need for sorcery. Our conquests have been swift. The battle this morning was a fierce one, the decision uncertain for a time,
