Midnight Tides by Steven Erikson
‘I hope you are right. Then again, I wonder if it will make any difference.’
‘We’re far from the sea, Seren,’ Iron Bars said. ‘That demon the Edur have chained can’t reach here, and that evens things some.’
A worthy try, Iron Bars. ‘Another day to Outkeep, then we should reach Letheras the following day, well before dusk.’
‘Could we hasten that, Acquitor? These soldiers camped ahead, might they be prepared to exchange horses?’
‘If I insist, yes.’
‘Based on your desire to speak to the king.’
‘Yes.’
‘And will you? Speak to the king, that is.’
‘No.’
He said nothing for a time, whilst she waited. Then, ‘And in Letheras, what will you do once you’ve arrived?’
‘I expect I will have some dusting to do.’
‘Sorry?’
‘My house is closed up. I’ve not had a chance to send a message to my staff – all two of them.’
‘That doesn’t sound very secure – no-one to guard your possessions.’
She smiled. ‘I have nothing of value, Iron Bars. Thieves are welcome to it. Well, I’d prefer if they left me my furniture – my neighbours are diligent enough, I suppose, to prevent anything like that.’
The Avowed stared ahead for a moment. ‘We must needs depart your company, then, Acquitor. To make contact with our new employer. Presumably, we’ll be shipping out soon after.’
Before the city’s occupied and sealed up. ‘I imagine so.’
‘There might be room aboard…’
‘I am Letherii, Iron Bars.’ She shook her head. ‘I am done with travelling for a time, I think.’
‘Understandable. Anyway, the offer’s open.’
‘Thank you.’ So here I run again.
Corlo, riding behind them, called out, ‘Easy on that, lass. Mockra’s dangerous when you don’t control it.’
The Avowed turned his head, studied her.
She shrugged.
Chapter Twenty-Two
An old man emerged from the ditch, a creature of mud and wild autumn winds capering like a hare across a bouldered field, across and through the stillness of time unhinged that sprawls patient and unexpectant in the place where battle lies spent, unmoving and never again moving bodies strewn and death-twisted like lost languages tracking contorted glyphs on a barrow door, and he read well the aftermath, the disarticulated script rent and dissolute the pillars of self toppled like termite towers all spilled out round his dancing feet, and he shouted in gleeful revelation the truth he’d found, in these red-fleshed pronouncements – ‘There Is Peace!’
He shrieked. ‘there is peace!’ and it was no difficult thing, where i sat in the saddle above salt-rimed horseflesh to lift my crossbow aim and loose the quarrel, skewering the madman to his proclamation. ‘now,’ said I, in the silence that followed, ‘now, there is peace.’
The Lay of Skinner
Fisher kel Tath
On facing hills, the smouldering ruins of first reach in the low, flat floodplain between, the two armies of the Tiste Edur came within sight of one another. Wraiths swarmed through the ashes, weapons were lifted high, triumphant cries piercing the still morning air.
The convergence was, of course, incomplete. The third, easternmost force, led by Tomad Sengar and Binadas, was still striking south down Mappers’ Road towards White Point. It would join with these two armies, Trull knew, somewhere close to Brans Keep, and there the fate of Lether, and indeed of the Edur empire, would be decided in a single battle.
He stood leaning on his spear, feeling no inclination to join his voice to the fierce tumult buffeting him from all sides. Just north of the ruins in the floodplain below, a hundred or more starlings cavorted and wheeled, their own cries drowned out, a detail that somehow transformed their dance into a fevered, nightmarish display.
In the distant line of warriors opposite, a space was clearing, a single dominant standard bobbing forward, beneath it a figure flashing gold, holding high a sword.
The warcries redoubled.
Trull flinched at the deafening sound. He pulled his gaze away from Rhulad on that far hilltop and saw Fear approaching.
‘Trull! B’nagga, you and I – horses await us – we ride now to our emperor!’
He nodded, uneasy with the ferocity evident in Fear’s eyes. ‘Lead on, brother.’
The ride across to Rhulad’s army was a strange experience. Trull did not like horses that much, and liked riding them even less. He was jolted again and again, jarring the scene on all sides. They rode across burnt ground, heaps of the remains of butchered livestock lining the tracks approaching the town. And the roaring of the warriors was a wave at their backs, pushing them onwards.
Then, halfway across, the sensation shifted, spun entirely round, as the voices of the warriors in the emperor’s army engulfed them. Their horses balked, and it was a struggle to make them resume the approach.
As they climbed the slope, Trull could see his brother Rhulad more clearly. He was barely recognizable, hulking now beneath the weight of the coins. His forehead was exposed, revealing skin the colour of dirty snow, the contrast darkening the pits of his eyes. His teeth were bared, but it seemed as much a grimace of pain as anything else. Hannan Mosag stood on the emperor’s left, the slave Udinaas on the right. Hull Beddict was positioned three paces behind the Warlock King. Mayen and Uruth were nowhere to be seen.
Arriving, they reined in and dismounted. Slaves appeared to lead the horses away.
Fear strode forward to kneel before the emperor. Across the valley, another surge of sound.
‘My brother,’ Rhulad said in his rasping, broken voice. ‘Rise before us.’ The emperor stepped close and settled a coin-backed hand on Fear’s shoulder. ‘There is much I must say to you, but later.’
‘As you command, Emperor.’
Rhulad’s haunted eyes shifted. ‘Trull.’
He kneeled and studied the ground before him. ‘Emperor.’
‘Rise. We have words for you as well.’
No doubt. ‘Mother arrived safely?’
A flash of irritation. ‘She did.’ It seemed he would say something more to Trull, but then he changed his mind and faced B’nagga. ‘The Jheck are well, B’nagga?’
A fierce grin. ‘They are, Emperor.’
‘We are pleased. Hannan Mosag would speak to you regarding the impending lie of battle. A tent has been prepared for such matters. Hull Beddict has drawn us detailed maps.’
B’nagga bowed, then walked to the Warlock King. The two departed, trailed by Hull Beddict.
‘Our brothers,’ Rhulad said, the sword shaking in his left hand. ‘Come, we will take food and drink in our own tent. Udinaas, precede us.’
The slave strode into the mass of warriors. The Edur melted back before the nondescript Letherii, and into his wake walked the emperor, Fear and Trull.
They reached the command tent a short while later, after traversing an avenue walled in flesh, waving weapons and frenzied warcries. Wraiths stood guard to either side of the entrance. As soon as the slave and the three brothers entered, Rhulad spun round and halted Trull with one hand. ‘How far do you intend to push me, Trull?’
He looked down at the hand pressed against his chest. ‘It seems you are the one doing the pushing, Rhulad.’
A moment of taut silence, then his brother barked a laugh and stepped back. ‘Words from our past, yes? As we once were, before…’ a wave of the sword, ‘all this.’ His ravaged gaze fixed on Trull for a moment. ‘We have missed you.’ He smiled at Fear. ‘Missed you both. Udinaas, find us some wine!’
‘A Letherii drink,’ Fear said. ‘I have acquired a taste for it, brother.’
Trull and Fear followed Rhulad into the inner chamber, where the slave was already pouring three cups of dark wine into Letherii-made goblets of silver and gold. Trull felt unbalanced, the sudden breach in Rhulad’s façade shocking him, hurting him somewhere inside for reas
Eschewing the throne dominating the centre of the room, the emperor settled down in a leather-slung tripod chair near the food-laden table along one wall. Two identical chairs flanked him. Rhulad gestured. ‘Come, brothers, sit with us. We know, we understand well, it seemed all we were was but ashes, and the love we shared, as brothers, was so sadly strained, then.’
Trull could see that even Fear was stunned, as they sat down in the low chairs.
‘We must not run from our memories,’ Rhulad said, as Udinaas brought him his cup. ‘The blood of kin need not always burn, brothers. There must be times when it simply… warms us.’
Fear cleared his throat. ‘We have… missed you as well, Emperor—’
‘Enough! No titles. Rhulad, so our father named me, as he named all his sons, each in turn from the host of ancestors of the Sengar line. It is too easy to forget.’
Udinaas set a cup into Fear’s hand. Fingers closed of their own accord.
Trull glanced up as the slave approached him with the last cup. He met the Letherii’s eyes, was startled by what he saw in them. He reached out and accepted the wine. ‘Thank you, Udinaas.’
A flinch from Rhulad. ‘He is mine,’ he said in a tight voice.
Trull’s eyes widened. ‘Of course, Rhulad.’
‘Good. Yes. Fear, I must tell you of Mayen.’
Slowly leaning back, Trull studied the wine trembling in the cup in his hands. The slave’s gaze, the message it seemed to convey. All is well.
‘I did not,’ Fear ventured hesitantly, ‘see her earlier…’
‘No, nor our mother. Mayen has been unwell.’ Rhulad shot Fear a nervous glance. ‘I am sorry, brother. I should not have… should not have done that. And now, well, you see…’ He drained his wine in a single motion. ‘Udinaas, more. Tell him. Explain, Udinaas, so that Fear understands.’
The slave refilled the cup, then stepped back. ‘She is with child,’ he said, meeting Fear’s gaze. ‘There is no doubt, now, that her heart belongs to you. Rhulad would have wished otherwise. At first, in any case. But not now. He understands. But the child, that has made matters difficult. Complicated.’
The cup in Fear’s hand had not visibly moved, but Trull could see that it was close to spilling, as if a numbness was stealing the strength of the limb. ‘Go on,’ Fear managed.
‘There is no precedent, no rules among your people,’ Udinaas resumed. ‘Rhulad would relinquish his marriage to her, he would undo all that has been done. But for the child, do you see, Fear Sengar?’
‘That child will be heir—’
Rhulad interrupted with a harsh laugh. ‘No heir, Fear. Ever. Don’t you see? The throne shall be my eternal burden.’
Burden. By the Sisters, what has awakened you, Rhulad? Who has awakened you? Trull snapped his gaze back to Udinaas, and mentally reeled in sudden realization. Udinaas? This… this slave?
Udinaas was nodding, eyes still on Fear’s own. ‘The warrior that raises that child will be its father, in all things but the naming. There will be no deception. All will know. If there is to be a stigma…’
‘It will be for me to deal with,’ Fear said. ‘Should I choose to stand beside Mayen, once wife to the emperor, with a child not my own to raise as my wife’s first-born.’
‘It is as you say, Fear Sengar,’ Udinaas said. Then he stepped back. Trull slowly straightened, reached with one hand and gently righted the cup in Fear’s grip. Startled, his brother looked at him, then nodded. ‘Rhulad, what does Mother say to all this?’
‘Mayen has been punishing herself with white nectar. It is not an easy thing to defeat, such… dependency. Uruth endeavours…’ A soft groan from Fear, as he closed his eyes.
Trull watched Rhulad stretch out as if to touch Fear, watched him hesitate, then glance across to Trull. Who nodded. Yes. Now. A momentary contact, that seemed to shoot through Fear, snapping his eyes open.
‘Brother,’ Rhulad said, ‘I am sorry.’
Fear studied his youngest brother’s face, then said, ‘We are all sorry, Rhulad. For… so much. What has Uruth said of the child? Is it well?’
‘Physically, yes, but it knows its mother’s hunger. This will be… difficult. I know, you do not deserve any of this, Fear—’
‘Perhaps, Rhulad, but I will accept the burden. For Mayen. And for you.’
No-one spoke after that, not for some time. They drank their wine, and it seemed to Trull that something was present, some part of his life he’d thought – not long gone, but non-existent in the first place. They sat, the three of them. Brothers, and nothing more.
Night descended outside. Udinaas served food and still more wine. Some time later, Trull rose, the alcohol softening details, and wandered through the chambers of the tent, his departure barely noticed by
Rhulad and Fear.
In a small room walled in by canvas, he found Udinaas.
The slave was sitting on a small stool, eating his own supper. He looked up in surprise at Trull’s sudden arrival.
‘Please,’ Trull said, ‘resume your meal. You have earned it, Udinaas.’
‘Is there something you wish of me, Trull Sengar?’
‘No. Yes. What have you done?’
The slave cocked his head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘With… him. What have you done, Udinaas?’
‘Not much, Trull Sengar.’
‘No, I need an answer. What are you to him?’
Udinaas set down his plate, drank a mouthful of wine. ‘A subject who’s not afraid of him, I suppose.’
‘That’s… all? Wait, yes, I see. But then I wonder, why? Why are you not afraid of him?’
Udinaas sighed, and Trull realized how exhausted the slave was. ‘You, all the Edur, you see the sword. Or the gold. You see… the power. The terrifying, brutal power.’ He shrugged. ‘I see what it takes from him, what it costs Rhulad. I am Letherii, after all,’ he added with a grimace. ‘I understand the notion of debt.’ He looked up. ‘Trull Sengar, I am his friend. That is all.’
Trull studied the slave for a half-dozen heartbeats. ‘Never betray him, Udinaas. Never.’
The Letherii’s gaze skittered away. He drank more wine.
‘Udinaas—’
‘I heard you,’ the man said in a grating voice.
Trull turned to leave. Then he paused and glanced back. ‘I have no wish to depart on such terms. So, Udinaas, for what you have done, for what you have given him, thank you.’
The slave nodded without looking up. He reached down to retrieve his plate.
Trull returned to the central chamber to find that Hannan Mosag had arrived, and was speaking to Rhulad.
‘… Hull believes it lies near a town downriver from here. A day’s journey, perhaps. But, Emperor, a necessary journey none the less.’
Rhulad looked away, glared at the far wall. ‘The armies must go on. To Brans Keep. No delays, no detours. I will go, and Fear and Trull as well. Hull Beddict, to guide us. Udinaas, of course.’
‘A K’risnan,’ the Warlock King said, ‘and our new demonic allies, the two Kenryll’ah.’
‘Very well, those as well. We shall meet you at Brans Keep.’
‘What is it?’ Trull asked. ‘What has happened?’
‘Something has been freed,’ Hannan Mosag said. ‘And it must be dealt with.’
‘Freed by whom, and for what purpose?’
The Warlock King shrugged. ‘I know not who was responsible. But I assume it was freed to fight us.’
‘A demon of some sort?’
Yes. I can only sense its presence, its will. I cannot identify it. The town is named Brous.’
Trull slowly nodded. ‘Would that Binadas were with us,’ he said.
Rhulad glanced up. ‘Why?’
Trull smiled, said nothing.
After a moment, Fear grunted, then nodded.
Rhulad matched Trull’s smile. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘would that he were.’
Hannan Mosag looked at the t
The emperor’s laugh was harsh, only slightly bitter. ‘You send us or another quest, Warlock King.’
Hannan Mosag visibly blanched.
Seeing that, Rhulad laughed again, this time in pure amusement.
After a moment, both Fear and Trull joined him, whilst Hannan Mosag stared at them all in disbelief.
They had drunk too much wine, Trull told himself later. That was all. Far too much wine.
****
Seren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen guided their horses down from the road, across the ditch, and drew rein at the edge of a green field. The vanguard of the Merchants’ Battalion had emerged from the city’s gates, and the Acquitor could see Preda Unnutal Hebaz at the forefront, riding a blue-grey horse, white-maned, that tossed its head in irritation, hooves stamping with impatience.
‘If she’s not careful,’ Iron Bars observed, ‘that beast will start bucking. And she’ll find herself on her arse in the middle of the road.’
‘That would be an ill omen indeed,’ Seren said.
After a moment, the Preda managed to calm the horse.
‘I take it we have something of a wait before us,’ Iron Bars said.
‘King’s Battalion and Merchants’ Battalion at the very least. I don’t know what other forces are in Letheras. I wouldn’t think the south battalions and brigades have had time to reach here, which is unfortunate.’ She thought for a moment, then said, ‘If we cross this field, we can take the river road and enter through Fishers’ Gate. It will mean crossing two-thirds of the city to reach my home, but for you, Avowed, well, presumably the ship you’re signed on with will be close by.’
Iron Bars shrugged. ‘We’re delivering you to your door, Acquitor.’
‘That’s not necessary—’
‘Even so, it is what we intend to do.’
‘Then, if you don’t mind…’
‘Fishers’ Gate it shall be. Lead on, Acquitor.’
****
The rearguard elements of the King’s Battalion had turned in the concourse before the Eternal Domicile and were now marching up the Avenue of the Seventh Closure. King Ezgara Diskanar, who had stood witness on the balcony of the First Wing since his official despatch of the Preda at dawn, finally swung about and made his way inside. The investiture was about to begin, but Brys Beddict knew he had some time before his presence was required.