Behind the Chancellor, Brys saw, was the Queen’s Consort, Turudal Brizad, leaning insouciantly against the wall, his soft, almost feminine features displaying a faint smirk.
Brys had always found the man strangely disturbing, and it had nothing to do with his singular function as consort to Janall. He was a silent presence, often at meetings dealing with the most sensitive issues of state, ever watchful despite his studied indifference. And it was well known that he shared his bed with more than just the queen, although whether Janall herself knew of that was the subject of conjecture in the court. Among his lovers, it was rumoured, was Chancellor Triban Gnol.
An untidy nest, all in all.
The door to the First Eunuch’s office was closed and guarded by two of Nifadas’s own Rulith, eunuch bodyguards, tall men with nothing of the common body-fat one might expect to see. Heavy kohl lined their eyes and red paint broadened their mouths into a perpetual down-turned grimace. Their only weapons were a brace of hooked daggers sheathed under their crossed arms, and if they wore any armour it was well disguised beneath long, crimson silk shirts and tan pantaloons. They were barefoot.
Both nodded and stepped aside to permit Brys to pass.
He tugged the braided tassel and could faintly hear the dull chime sound in the chamber beyond.
The door clicked open.
Nifadas was alone, standing behind his desk, the surface of which was crowded with scrolls and unfurled maps. His back was to the room, and he seemed to be staring at a wall. ‘King’s Champion. I have been expecting you.’
‘This seemed the first in order, First Eunuch.’
‘Just so.’ He was silent for a few heartbeats, then: ‘There are beliefs that constitute the official religion of a nation, but those beliefs and that religion are in truth little more than the thinnest gold hammered on far older bones. No nation is singular, or exclusive – rather, it should not be, for its own good. There is much danger in asserting for oneself a claim to purity, whether of blood or of origin. Few may acknowledge it, but Lether is far richer for its devouring minorities, provided that digestion remains eternally incomplete.
‘Be that as it may, Finadd, I confess to you a certain ignorance. The palace isolates those trapped within it, and its roots nurture poorly. I would know of the people’s private beliefs.’
Brys thought for a moment, then asked, ‘Can you be more specific, First Eunuch?’
Nifadas still did not turn to face him. ‘The seas. The denizens of the deep. Demons and old gods, Brys.’
‘The Tiste Edur call the dark waters the realm of Galain, which is said to belong to kin, for whom Darkness is home. The Tarthenal, I have heard, view the seas as a single beast with countless limbs – including those that reach inland as rivers and streams. The Nerek fear it as their netherworld, a place where drowning is eternal, a fate awaiting betrayers and murderers.’
‘And the Letherii?’
Brys shrugged. ‘Kuru Qan knows more of this than I, First Eunuch. Sailors fear but do not worship. They make sacrifices in the hopes of avoiding notice. On the seas, the arrogant suffer, whilst only the meek survive, although it’s said if abasement is carried too far, the hunger below grows irritated and spiteful. Tides and currents reveal the patterns one must follow, which in part explains the host of superstitions and rituals demanded of those who would travel by sea.’
‘And this… hunger below. It has no place among the Holds?’
‘Not that I know of, First Eunuch.’
Nifadas finally turned, regarded Brys with half-closed eyes. ‘Does that not strike you as odd, Finadd Beddict? Lether was born of colonists who came here from the First Empire. That First Empire was then destroyed, the paradise razed to lifeless desert. Yet it was the First Empire in which the Holds were first discovered. True, the Empty Hold proved a later manifestation, at least in so far as it related to ourselves. Thus, are we to imagine that yet older beliefs survived and were carried to this new land all those millennia ago? Or, conversely, does each land – and its adjoining seas – evoke an indigenous set of beliefs? If that is the case, then the argument supporting the presence of physical, undeniable gods is greatly supported.’
‘But even then,’ Brys said, ‘there is no evidence that such gods are remotely concerned with mortal affairs. I do not think sailors envisage the hunger I spoke of as a god. More as a demon, I think.’
‘To answer the unanswerable, a need from which we all suffer.’ Nifadas sighed. ‘Finadd, the independent seal harvesters were all slain. Three of their ships survived the return journey to Trate, crewed up to the very piers by Edur wraiths, yet carried on seas that were more than seas. A demon, such as the sailors swear upon… yet, it was something far more, or so our Ceda believes. Are you familiar with Faraed beliefs? Theirs is an oral tradition, and if the listing of generations is accurate and not mere poetic pretence, then the tradition is ancient indeed. The Faraed creation myths centre on Elder gods. Each named and aspected, a divisive pantheon of entirely unwholesome personalities. In any case, among them is the Elder Lord of the Seas, the Dweller Below. It is named Mael. Furthermore, the Faraed have singled out Mael in their oldest stories. It once walked this land, Finadd, as a physical manifestation, following the death of an Age.’
‘An Age? What kind of Age?’
‘Of the time before the Faraed, I think. There are… contradictions and obscurities.’
‘Ceda Kuru Qan believes the demon that carried the ships was this Mael?’
‘If it was, then Mael has suffered much degradation. Almost mindless, a turgid maelstrom of untethered emotions. But powerful none the less.’
‘Yet the Tiste Edur have chained it?’
Nifadas’s thin brows rose. ‘Clear a path through a forest and every beast will use it. Is this control? Of a sort, perhaps.’
‘Hannan Mosag sought to make a statement.’
‘Indeed, Finadd, and so he has. Yet is it a true statement or deceptive bravado?’
Brys shook his head. He had no answer to offer.
Nifadas swung away once more. ‘The king has deemed this of sufficient import. The Ceda even now prepares the… means. None the less, you deserve the right to be asked rather than commanded.’
‘What is it I am asked to do, First Eunuch?’
A faint shrug. ‘Awaken an Elder god.’
‘There is great flux in the composite. Is this relevant? I think not.’ Ceda Kuru Qan pushed his wire-bound lenses further up the bridge of his nose and peered at Brys. ‘This is a journey of the mind, King’s Champion, yet the risk to you is such that you might as well travel into the netherworld in truth. If your mind is slain, there is no return. Extreme necessity, alas; the king wills that you proceed.’
‘I did not imagine that there would be no danger, Ceda. Tell me will my martial skills be applicable?’
‘Unknown. But you are young, quick-witted and resilient.’ He turned away and scanned the cluttered worktop behind him. ‘Great flux, alas. Leaving but one choice.’ He reached out and picked up a goblet. A pause, a dubious squint at its contents, then he took a cautious sip. ‘Ah! As suspected. The flux in the composite is due entirely to curdled milk Brys Beddict, are you ready?’
The King’s Champion shrugged.
Kuru Qan nodded. ‘I was going to have you drink this.’
‘Curdled milk will not harm me,’ Brys said, taking the goblet from the Ceda. He quickly tossed it down, then set the silver cup on the table. ‘How long?’
‘For what?’
‘Until the potion takes effect.’
‘What potion? Come with me. We shall use the Cedance for this journey.’
Brys followed the old sorceror from the chamber. At the door he cast a glance back at the goblet. The mixture had tasted of citrus and sour goat’s milk; he could already feel it bubbling ominously in his stomach. ‘I must now assume there was no purpose to what I just drank.’
‘A repast. One of my experiments. I was hoping you’d enjoy it, but judging by your pallor it would seem that that was not the case.’
‘I’m afraid you are correct.’
‘Ah well, if it proves inimical you will no doubt bring it back up.’
‘That’s comforting knowledge, Ceda.’
The remainder of the journey to the palace depths was mercifully uneventful. Ceda Kuru Qan led Brys into the
