Midnight tides

but the Edur prevailed. We suffered losses, but that was to be expected – though no less regretted for that.’

‘Rise, Binadas,’ Rhulad said, sighing heavily beneath his gold armour.

Udinaas now saw that Hull Beddict was approaching in the wake of the Sengar warriors. He looked no better than before, walking like a man skull-cracked and half senseless. Udinaas felt some regret upon seeing his fellow Letherii, for he’d been hard on the man earlier.

Tomad spoke. ‘Emperor, we have word from Uruth. She has recovered-’

‘We are relieved,’ Rhulad cut in. ‘Her fallen sisters must be honoured.’

Tomad’s brows rose slightly, then he nodded.

The emperor strode to Fear and Trull. ‘Brothers, have the two Kenryll’ah returned?’

‘No, sire,’ Fear replied. ‘Nor has the Forkrul Assail appeared. We must, I think, assume the hunt continues.’

This was good, Udinaas decided. Rhulad choosing to speak of things few others present knew about – reinforcing once more all that bound him to Fear and Trull. A display for Tomad, their father. For Binadas, who must now be feeling as if he stood on the narrowest of paths, balanced between Rhulad and the Warlock King. And would soon have to choose.

Errant save us, what a mess awaits these Tiste Edur.

Rhulad set a hand on Trull’s shoulder, then stepped past. ‘Hull

Beddict, hear us.’

The Letherii straightened, blinking, searching until his gaze found the emperor. ‘Sire?’

‘We grieve this day, Hull Beddict. These… ignoble deaths. We would rather this had been a day of honourable triumph, of courage and glory revealed on both sides. We would rather, Hull Beddict, this day had been… clean.’

Cold anger indeed. A greater mercy, perhaps, would have been a public beating of Hannan Mosag. The future was falling out here and now, Udinaas realized. And was that my intention? Better, I think, had I let Rhulad cut the bastard down where he stood. Clean and simple – the only one fooled into believing those words is Rhulad himself. Here’s two better words: vicious and subtle.

‘We would retire, until the morrow,’ the emperor said. ‘When we march to claim Letheras, and the throne we have won. Udinaas, attend me shortly. Tomad, at midnight the barrow for the fallen shall be ready for sanctification. Be sure to see the burial done in all honour. And, Father,’ he added, ‘those Letherii soldiers you fought this day, join them to the same barrow.’

‘Sire-’

‘Father, the Letherii are now our subjects, are they not?’

Udinaas stood to one side, watching various Edur departing the hilltop. Binadas spoke with Hannan Mosag for a time, then strode to Hull Beddict for the formal greeting of the blood-bound. Then Binadas guided the Letherii away.

Fear and Tomad departed to arrange the burial details. Theradas Buhn and the other chosen brothers set off for the Hiroth encampments.

In a short time, there were only two left. Udinaas, and Trull Sengar.

The Edur was studying the slave from about fifteen paces away, with sufficient intent to make the slave begin to feel nervous. Finally, Udinaas casually turned away, and stared out towards the hills to the south.

A dozen heartbeats later, Trull Sengar came to stand beside him.

‘It seems,’ the Edur said after a time, ‘that you, for all that you are a slave, possess talents verging on genius.’

‘Master?’

‘Enough of this “master” shit, Udinaas. You are now a… what is the title? A chancellor of the realm? Principal Adviser, or some such thing?’

‘First Eunuch, I think.’

Trull glanced over. ‘I did not know you’d been-’

‘I haven’t. Consider it symbolic’

‘All right, I understand, I think. Tell me, are you so certain of yourself, Udinaas, that you would stand between Rhulad and Hannan Mosag? Between Rhulad and Theradas Buhn and those rabid pups who are the chosen brothers of the emperor? You would stand, indeed, between Rhulad and his own madness? Sister knows, I’d thought the Warlock King arrogant

‘It is not arrogance, Trull Sengar. If it was, I’d be entirely as sure of myself as you seem to think I am. But I am not. Do you believe I have somehow manipulated myself into this position? By choice? Willingly? Tell me, when have any of us last had any meaningful choices? Including your young brother?’

The Edur said nothing for a while. Then he nodded. ‘Very well. But, none the less, I must know your intentions.’

Udinaas shook his head. ‘Nothing complicated, Trull Sengar. I do not want to see anyone hurt more than they already have been.’

‘Including Hannan Mosag?’

‘The Warlock King has not been hurt. But we have seen, this day, what he would deliver upon others.’

‘Rhulad was… distressed?’

‘Furious.’ But not, alas, for admirable reasons – no, he just wanted to fight, and die. The other, more noble sentiments had been borrowed. From me.

‘That answer leaves me feeling… relief, Udinaas.’

Which is why I gave it.

‘Udinaas.’

‘Yes?’

‘I fear for what will come. In Letheras.’

‘Yes.’

‘I feel the world is about to unravel.’

Yes. ‘Then we shall have to do our best, Trull Sengar, to hold it all together.’

The Tiste Edur’s eyes held his, then Trull nodded. ‘Beware your enemies, Udinaas.’

The slave did not reply. Alone once more, he studied the distant hills, the thinning smoke from the fires somewhere in the belly of the fallen keep rising like mocking shadows from earlier this day.

All these wars…

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Five wings will buy you a grovel, There at the Errant’s grubby toes The eternal domicile crouching low In a swamp of old where rivers ran out And royal blood runs in the clearest stream Around the stumps of rotted trees Where forests once stood in majesty Five roads from the Empty Hold Will lay you flat on your back With altar knives and silver chased The buried rivers gnawing the roots All aswirl in eager caverns beneath Where kingly bones rock and clatter In the silts, and five are the paths To and from this chambered soul For all you lost hearts bleeding out Into the wilderness.

Day of the Domicile Fintrothas (the Obscure)

THE FRESH, WARM WATER OF THE RIVER BECAME THE DEMON’S BLOOD, a vessel along which it climbed, the current pushing round it. Somewhere ahead, it now knew, lay a heart, a source of power at once strange and familiar. Its master knew nothing of it, else he would not have permitted the demon to draw ever closer, for that power, once possessed, would snap the binding chains.

Something waited. In the buried courses that ran ceaselessly beneath the great city on the banks of the river. The demon was tasked with carrying the fleet of ships – an irritating presence plying the surface above – to the city. This would be sufficient proximity, the demon knew, to make the sudden lunge, to grasp that dread heart in its many hands. To feed, then rise, free once again and possessing the strength of ten gods. To rise, like an elder, from the raw, chaotic world of long ago. Dominant, unassailable, and burning with fury.