view him as unaligned, and therefore unpredictable.’
‘Which is why the Errant sought to kill him,’ said Janath.
‘Yes,’ replied Bugg. ‘One thing I can say: while in close company with the Malazans, Brys is perhaps safer from the Errant than he would be anywhere else.’
‘And on the return journey?’ Tehol asked.
‘I expect the Errant to be rather preoccupied by then, sire.’
‘Why is that?’
Bugg was long in replying, and on his blunt face could be seen a reluctant weighing of risks, ending in a grimace and then a sigh. ‘He compels me. In my most ancient capacity, he compels me. Sire, by the time Brys begins his return to the kingdom, the Errant will be busy… contending with me.’
The iron beneath Bugg’s words silenced the two others in the throne room, for a time.
Tehol then spoke, looking at neither his wife nor his closest friend. ‘I will take a walk in the garden.’
They watched him leave.
Janath said, ‘Brys is his brother, after all. And to have lost him once…’
Bugg nodded.
‘Is there anything more you can do?’ she asked him. ‘To protect him?’
‘Who, Brys or Tehol?’
‘In this matter, I think, they are one and the same.’
‘Some possibilities exist,’ Bugg allowed. ‘Unfortunately, in such circumstances as these, often the gesture proves deadlier than the original threat.’ He held up a hand to forestall her. ‘Of course I will do what I can.’
She looked away. ‘I know you will. So, friend, you are compelled-when will you leave us?’
‘Soon. Some things cannot be resisted for long-I am making him sweat.’ He then grunted and added, ‘and that’s making me sweat.’
‘Is this a “binding of blood”?’ she asked.
He started, eyed her curiously. ‘I keep forgetting you are a scholar, my Queen. That ancient phrase holds many layers of meaning, and almost as many secrets. Every family begins with a birth, but there can never be just one, can there?’
‘Solitude is simple. Society isn’t.’
‘Just so, Janath.’ He studied her for a moment. She sat on the throne, leaning to one side, head resting on one hand. ‘Did you know you are with child?’
‘Of course.’
‘Does Tehol?’
‘Probably not. It’s early yet-Bugg, I suffered greatly in the hands of the Patriotists, didn’t I? I see scars on my body but have no memory of how they came to be there. I feel pains inside and so I believe there are scars within, as well. I suspect your hand in my strange ignorance-you have scoured away the worst of what I experienced. I don’t know if I should thank you or curse you.’
‘An even measure of both, I should think.’
She regarded him levelly. ‘Yes, you understand the necessity of balance, don’t you? Well, I think I will give it a few more weeks before I terrify my husband.’
‘The child is healthy, Janath, and I sense no risks-those pains are phantom ones-I was thorough in my healing.’
‘That’s a relief.’ She rose. ‘Tell me, was it simply a question of my twisted imagination, or did that Akrynnai artist have something disreputable in mind?’
‘My Queen, neither mortal nor immortal can fathom the mind of an artist. But as a general rule, between two possible answers, choose the more sordid one.’
‘Of course. How silly of me.’
‘Draconus is lost within Dragnipur. Nightchill’s soul is scattered to the winds. Grizzin Farl vanished millennia ago. And Edgewalker might well deny any compulsion out of sheer obstinacy or, possibly, a righteous claim to disassociation.’ Knuckles managed a twisted smile, and then shrugged. ‘If there is one presence I would find unwelcome above all others, Errastas, it is Olar Ethil.’
‘She is dead-’
‘And supremely indifferent to that condition-she embraced the Ritual of Tellann without hesitation, the opportunistic bitch-’
‘And so bound herself to the fate of the T’lan Imass,’ said the Errant, as he eyed Kilmandaros. The huge creature had dragged a massive trunk to the centre of the chamber, snapping the lock with one hand and then flinging back the lid; and now she was pulling out various pieces of green-stained armour, muttering under her breath. On the walls on all sides, seawater was streaming in through widening cracks, swirling ankle-deep and rising to engulf the fire in the hearth. The air was growing bitter cold.
‘Not as bound as you might hope for,’ said Sechul Lath. ‘We have discussed K’rul, but there is one other, Errastas. An entity most skilled at remaining a mystery to us all-’
‘Ardata. But she is not the only one. I always sensed, Setch, that there were more of us than any of us imagined. Even with my power, my command of the Tiles, I was convinced there were ghosts, hovering at the edge of my vision, my awareness. Ghosts, as ancient and as formidable as any of us.’
‘Defying your rule,’ said Sechul slyly, swirling the amber wine in his crystal goblet.
‘Afraid to commit themselves,’ the Errant said, sneering. ‘Hiding from each other too, no doubt. Singly, not one poses a threat. In any case, it is different now.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. The rewards we can reap are vast-whatever has gone before is as nothing. Think on it. All that was stolen from us returned once more into our hands. The ghosts, the ones in hiding-they would be fools to hesitate. No, the wise course is to step out from the shadows.’
Knuckles took a mouthful of wine. The water was soaking the seat of the chair beneath him. ‘The House is eager to wash us out.’
Kilmandaros had shrugged her way into a sopping hauberk of chain. She reached down to the submerged floor and lifted from the foaming swirl a huge gauntlet through which water gushed in a deluge. She dragged the gauntlet over one gnarled fist, and then reached down to find the other one.
‘She’s pleased,’ said Errastas.
‘No she isn’t,’ countered Knuckles. ‘You have awakened her anger, and now she must find an enemy worthy of it. Sometimes-even for you-control is a delusion, a conceit. What you unleash here-’
‘Is long overdue. Cease your efforts to undermine me, Setch-you only reveal your own weaknesses.’
‘Weaknesses I have never run from, Errastas. Can you say the same?’
The Errant bared his teeth. ‘You are cast. It cannot be undone. We must take our fate into our own hands-look to Kilmandaros-she will show us how it must be. Discard your fears-they sting like poison.’
‘
At her words both men turned. She was clad for war and stood like a bestial statue, a hoary apparition enwreathed in seaweed. Algae mottled her hauberk. Verdigris mapped her helm’s skullcap. The broad, low-slung, grilled cheek-guards looked like iron chelae, the bridge gleaming like a scorpion’s pincer. Her gauntleted hands were closed into fists, like giant mauls at the ends of her apish, multi-jointed arms.
‘So you are,’ said Errastas, smiling.
‘I have never trusted you,’ Kilmandaros said in a growl.
He rose, still smiling. ‘Why should I be unique? Now, who among us will open the portal? Knuckles, show us your power.’
The gaunt man flinched.
The water had reached hip-level-not Kilmandaros’s hips, of course. The Errant gestured in Sechul Lath’s direction. ‘Let us see you as you should be. This is my first gift, Setch.’ Power blossomed.
The ancient figure blurred, straightened, revealing at last a tall, youthful Forkrul Assail-who reeled, face darkening. He flung away his goblet. ‘How dare you! Leave me as I was, damn you!’
‘My gift,’ snapped Errastas. ‘To be accepted in the spirit in which it is given.’
Sechul held his elongated hands up over his face. ‘How could you think,’ he rasped, ‘I ever regretted what I left behind?’ He pulled his hands away, glaring. ‘Give me back all that I have earned!’
‘You are a fool-’
‘
‘Errastas!’
‘No! It is done!’
A second gesture, and a portal opened, swallowing an entire wall of the House. Kilmandaros lumbered through, vanishing from sight.
The Errant faced Knuckles.
His old friend’s eyes were filled with such wretched distress that Errastas snarled, ‘Oh, have it your way, then-’ and cruelly tore the blessing from the man, watched with satisfaction as the man bowed, gasping in sudden pain.
‘There, wear your pathos, Setch, since it fits so damned well. What is this? You do not welcome its return?’
‘It pleases you to deliver pain, does it? I see that you are unchanged… in the essential details of your nature.’ Groaning, Sechul conjured a staff and leaned heavily upon it. ‘Lead on then, Errastas.’
‘Why must you sour this moment of triumph?’
‘Perhaps I but remind you of what awaits us all.’
The Errant struggled not to strike Knuckles, not to knock that staff away with a kick and watch the old creature totter, possibly even fall. A shortlived pleasure. Unworthy to be sure. He faced the portal. ‘Stay close-this gate will slam shut behind us, I suspect.’
‘It’s had its fill, aye.’
Moments later, water roared in to reclaim the chamber, darkness devoured every room, every hall. Currents rushed, and then settled, until all was motionless once more.
