Dust of Dreams

eyes fixed briefly on Lostara before sliding away once more. ‘She died on a street, just one more victim of mischance. A death devoid of magic.’

Lostara’s attention dropped down to the sword strapped at Tavore’s hip. ‘Most deaths are, Adjunct.’

Tavore nodded. ‘The wax melts. There is, I think, some comfort to be found in that. A small measure of… release.’

Is that the best you can hope for, Tavore? Gods below. ‘Lorn was not there to gauge the worth of her legacy, if that is what you mean, Adjunct. Which was probably a mercy.’

‘I sometimes think that fate and mercy are often one and the same.’

The notion chilled Lostara.

‘The army,’ continued the Adjunct, ‘will sort itself out once on the march. I give them this touch of chaos, of near anarchy. As I do for Fists Keneb and Blistig. I have my reasons.’

‘Yes, Adjunct.’

‘In the King’s presence, Captain, I expect you to refrain from any undue attention to the knife at your side.’

‘As you command, Adjunct.’

Moments later an inner door swung open and King Tehol strode in, trailed by the Chancellor. ‘My sincerest apologies, Adjunct. It’s all my Ceda’s fault, not that you need to know that, but then’-and he smiled as he sat down on the raised chair-‘now you do, and I don’t mind telling what a relief that is.’

‘You summoned us, Majesty,’ said Adjunct.

‘Did I? Oh yes, so I did. Relax, there’s no crisis-well, none that concerns you directly. Well, not in Letheras, anyway. Not at the moment, I mean. Ceda, step forward there now! Adjunct Tavore, we have a gift for you. In expression of our deepest gratitude.’

Queen Janath had arrived as well, moving up to stand to one side of her husband, one hand resting on the chair’s high back.

Bugg was holding a small hand-polished wooden case, which he now set into the Adjunct’s hands.

The chamber was silent as Tavore unlatched the lid and tilted it back to reveal a water-etched dagger. The grip and pommel were both plain, functional, and as far as Lostara could see, the blade itself, barring the etched swirls, was unspectacular. After a moment’s examination, the Adjunct shut the lid and looked up at the King. ‘Thank you, sire. I shall treasure this-’

‘Hold on,’ said Tehol, rising and walking over. ‘Let’s see that thing-’ and he lifted the lid once more, and then faced Bugg. ‘Couldn’t you have selected something prettier than that, Ceda? Why, I imagine the Chancellor is mortified now that he’s seen it!’

‘He is, sire. Alas, the Ceda was under certain constraints-’

‘Excuse me,’ said the Adjunct, ‘am I to understand that this weapon is ensorcelled? I am afraid that such piquancy will be lost in my presence.’

The old man smiled. ‘I have done what I can, Tavore of House Paran. When you face your most dire necessity, look to this weapon.’

The Adjunct almost stepped back and Lostara saw what little colour there had been in her face suddenly drain away. ‘My most… dire… necessity? Ceda-’

‘As I said, Adjunct,’ Bugg replied, his gaze unwavering. ‘When blood is required. When blood is needed. In the name of survival, and in that name alone.’

Lostara saw that Tavore was at a loss for words-and she had no idea why. Unless the Adjunct already knows what that necessity will be. Knows, and is horrified by this gift. Bowing, Adjunct closed the lid a second time and stepped back.

Tehol was frowning at Bugg. After a moment he returned to the modest chair and sat down once more. ‘Fare you well on your journey, Adjunct. And you as well, Lostara Yil. Do not neglect my brother, he has many talents. A lot more than me, that’s for certain-’ and at seeing Bugg’s nod he scowled.

Janath reached down and patted his shoulder.

Tehol’s scowl deepened. ‘Look to Brys Beddict during your traverse of Bolkando Kingdom. We are very familiar with our neighbours, and his advice should prove valuable.’

‘I shall, sire,’ the Adjunct said.

And suddenly it was time to go.

Moments after the Malazans had departed, Tehol glanced over at Bugg. ‘My, you look miserable.’

‘I dislike departures, sire. There is ever a hint of… finality.’

Janath came round and sat on one of the flanking benches. ‘You do not expect to see the Malazans again?’

He hesitated, and then said, ‘No.’

‘What of Brys?’ Tehol asked.

Bugg blinked and opened his mouth to reply but the King raised a hand. ‘No, that question should not have been asked. I’m sorry, old friend.’

‘Sire, your brother possesses unexplored… depths. Fortitude, unassailable fidelity to honour-and, as you well know, he carries within him a certain legacy, and while I cannot gauge the measure of that legacy, I believe it has the potential to be vast.’

‘You danced carefully there,’ Janath observed.

‘I did.’

Sighing, Tehol leaned back on the chair. ‘This seems a messy conclusion to things, doesn’t it? Little that amuses, even less that entertains. You must know I prefer to leap from one delightful absurdity to another. My last gesture on the Malazan stage should have been the highest of dramas is my feeling. Instead, I taste something very much like ashes in my mouth and that is most unpleasant.’

‘Perhaps some wine will wash things clean,’ suggested Bugg.

‘Won’t hurt. Pour us some, please. You, guard, come and join us-standing there doing nothing must be a dreadful bore. No need to gape like that, I assure you. Doff that helm and relax-there’s another guard just like you on the other side of that door, after all. Let him bear the added burden of diligence. Tell us about yourself. Family, friends, hobbies, scandals-’

‘Sire,’ warned Bugg.

‘Or just join us in a drink and feel under no pressure to say anything at all. This shall be one of those interludes swiftly glossed over in the portentous histories of great and mediocre kings. We sit in the desultory aftermath, oblivious to omens and whatever storm waits behind yonder horizon. Ah, thank you, Bugg-my Queen, accept that goblet and come sit on my knee-oh, don’t make that kind of face, we need to compose the proper scene. I insist and since I’m King I can do that, or so I read somewhere. Now, let’s see… yes, Bugg, stand right over there-oh, massaging your brow is the perfect pose. And you, dearest guard-how did you manage to hide all that hair? And how come I never knew you were a woman? Never mind, you’re an unexpected delight-ow, calm down, wife-oh, that’s me who needs to calm down. Sorry. Women in uniforms and all that. Guard, that dangling helm is exquisite by the way, take a mouthful and do pass judgement on the vintage, yes, like that, oh, most perfect!

‘Now, it’s just occurred to me that we’re missing something crucial. Ah, yes, an artist. Bugg, have we a court artist? We need an artist! Find us an artist! Nobody move!’

Chapter Twelve

The sea is blind to the road
And the road is blind to the rain
The road welcomes no footfalls
The blind are an ocean’s flood
On the road’s shore

Walk then unseeing
Like children with hands outstretched
Down to valleys of blinding darkness
The road leads down through shadows
Of weeping gods

This sea knows but one tide flowing
Into sorrow’s depthless chambers
The sea is shore to the road
And the road is the sea’s river
To the blind

When I hear the first footfalls
I know the end has come
And the rain shall rise
Like children with hands