Reaper's Gate And Toll The Hounds Part 1

Reaper's Gale.

A Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen.

by STEVEN ERIKSON

PROLOGUE

The Elder Warren of Kurald Emurlahn The Age of SunderingIn a landscape torn with grief, the carca.s.ses of six dragons lay strewn in a ragged row reaching a thousand or more paces across the plain, flesh split apart, broken bones jutting, jaws gaping and eyes brittle-dry. Where their blood had spilled out onto the ground wraiths had gathered like flies to sap and were now ensnared, the ghosts writhing and voicing hollow cries of despair, as the blood darkened, fusing with the lifeless soil; and, when at last the substance grew indurate, hardening into gla.s.sy stone, those ghosts were doomed to an eternity trapped within that murky prison.The naked creature that traversed the rough path formed by the fallen dragons was a match to their ma.s.s, yet bound to the earth, and it walked on two bowed legs, the thighs thick as thousand-year-old trees. The width of its shoulders was equal to the length of a Tartheno Toblakai's height; from a thick neck hidden beneath a mane of glossy black hair, the frontal portion of the head was thrust forward brow, cheekbones and jaw, and its deep-set eyes revealing black pupils surrounded in opalescent white. The huge arms were disproportionately long, the enormous hands almost sc.r.a.ping the ground. Its b.r.e.a.s.t.s were large, pendulous and pale. As it strode past the battered, rotting carca.s.ses, the motion of its gait was strangely fluid, not at all lumbering, and each limb was revealed to possess extra joints.Skin the hue of sun-bleached bone, darkening to veined red at the ends of the creature's arms, bruises surrounding the knuckles, a latticework of cracked flesh exposing the bone here and there. The hands had seen damage, the result of delivering devastating blows.It paused to tilt its head, upward, and watched as three dragons sailed the air high amidst the roiling clouds, appearing then disappearing in the smoke of the dying realm.The earthbound creature's hands twitched, and a low growl emerged from deep in its throat.After a long moment, it resumed its journey.Beyond the last of the dead dragons, to a place where rose a ridge of hills, the largest of these cleft through as if a giant claw had gouged out the heart of the rise, and in that creva.s.se raged a rent, a tear in s.p.a.ce that bled power in nacreous streams. The malice of that energy was evident in the manner in which it devoured the sides of the fissure, eating like acid into the rocks and boulders of the ancient berm.The rent would soon close, and the one who had last pa.s.sed through had sought to seal the gate behind him. But such healing could never be done in haste, and this wound bled anew.Ignoring the virulence pouring from the rent, the creature strode closer. At the threshold it paused again and turned to look back the way it had come.Draconean blood hardening into stone, horizontal sheets of the substance, already beginning to separate from the surrounding earth, to lift up on edge, forming strange, disarticulated walls. Some then began sinking, vanishing from this realm. Falling through world after world. To reappear, finally, solid and impermeable, in other realms, depending on the blood's aspect, and these were laws that could not be challenged. Starvald Demelain, the blood of dragons and the death of blood.In the distance behind the creature, Kurald Emurlahn, the Realm of Shadows, the first realm born of the conjoining of Dark and Light, convulsed in its death-throes. Far away, the civil wars still raged on, whilst in other areas the fragmenting had already begun, vast sections of this world's fabric torn away, disconnected and lost and abandoned to either heal round themselves, or die. Yet interlopers still arrived here, like scavengers gathered round a fallen leviathan, eagerly tearing free their own private pieces of the realm. Destroying each other in fierce battles over the sc.r.a.ps.It had not been imagined by anyone that an entire realm could die in such a manner. That the vicious acts of its inhabitants could destroy . . . everything. Worlds live on, had been the belief the a.s.sumption regardless of the activities of those who dwelt upon them. Torn flesh heals, the sky clears, and something new crawls from the briny muck.But not this time.Too many powers, too many betrayals, too vast and all-consuming the crimes.The creature faced the gate once more.Then Kilmandaros, the Elder G.o.ddess, strode through.The ruined K'Chain Che'Malle demesne after the fall of Silchas RuinTrees were exploding in the bitter cold that descended like a shroud, invisible yet palpable, upon this racked, devastated forest.Gothos had no difficulty following the path of the battle, the successive clashes of two Elder G.o.ds warring with the Soletaken dragon, and as the Jaghut traversed its mangled length he brought with him the brutal chill of Omtose Ph.e.l.lack, the Warren of Ice. Sealing the deal, as you asked of Sealing the deal, as you asked of me, Mael. Locking the truth in place, to make it more than me, Mael. Locking the truth in place, to make it more than memory. Until the day that witnesses the shattering of Omtose memory. Until the day that witnesses the shattering of Omtose Ph.e.l.lack itself Ph.e.l.lack itself. Gothos wondered, idly, if there had ever been a time when he believed that such a shattering would not not come to pa.s.s. That the Jaghut, in all their perfected brilliance, were unique, triumphant in eternal domination. A civilization immortal, when all others were doomed. come to pa.s.s. That the Jaghut, in all their perfected brilliance, were unique, triumphant in eternal domination. A civilization immortal, when all others were doomed.Well, it was possible. He had once believed that all of existence was under the benign control of a caring omnipotence, after all. And crickets exist to sing us to sleep, And crickets exist to sing us to sleep, too too. There was no telling what other foolishness might have crept into his young, naive brain all those millennia ago.No longer, of course. Things end. Species die out. Faith in anything else was a conceit, the product of unchained ego, the curse of supreme self-importance.So what do I now believe?He would not permit himself a melodramatic laugh in answer to that question. What was the point? There was no-one nearby who might appreciate it. Including himself. Yes, I am cursed to live with my own company. Yes, I am cursed to live with my own company.It's a private curse.The best kind.He ascended a broken, fractured rise, some violent uplift of bedrock, where a vast fissure had opened, its vertical sides already glistening with frost when Gothos came to the edge and looked down. Somewhere in the darkness below, two voices were raised in argument.Gothos smiled.He opened his warren, made use of a sliver of power to fashion a slow, controlled descent towards the gloomy base of the creva.s.se.As Gothos neared, the two voices ceased, leaving only a rasping, hissing sound, pulsating the drawing of breath on waves of pain and the Jaghut heard the slithering of scales on stone, slightly off to one side.He alighted atop broken shards of rock, a few paces from where stood Mael, and, ten paces beyond him, the huge form of Kilmandaros, her skin vaguely luminescent in a sickly sort of way standing with hands closed into fists, a belligerent cast to her brutal mien.Scabandari, the Soletaken dragon, had been driven into a hollow in the cliff-side and now crouched, splintered ribs no doubt making every breath an ordeal of agony. One wing was shattered, half torn away. A hind limb was clearly broken, bones punched through flesh. Its flight was at an end.The two Elders were now eyeing Gothos, who strode forward, then spoke. 'I am always delighted,' he said, 'when a betrayer is in turn betrayed. In this instance, betrayed by his own stupidity. Which is even more delightful.'Mael, Elder G.o.d of the Seas, asked, 'The Ritual . . . are you done, Gothos?''More or less.' The Jaghut fixed his gaze on Kilmandaros. 'Elder G.o.ddess. Your children in this realm have lost their way.'The huge b.e.s.t.i.a.l woman shrugged, and said in a faint, melodic voice, 'They're always losing their way, Jaghut.''Well, why don't you do something about it?''Why don't you?'One thin brow lifted, then Gothos bared his tusks in a smile. 'Is that an invitation, Kilmandaros?'She looked over at the dragon. 'I have no time for this. I need to return to Kurald Emurlahn. I will kill him now-' and she stepped closer.'You must not,' Mael said.Kilmandaros faced him, huge hands opening then closing again into fists. 'So you keep saying, you boiled crab.'Shrugging, Mael turned to Gothos. 'Explain it to her, please.''How many debts do you wish to owe me?' the Jaghut asked him.'Oh now really, Gothos!''Very well. Kilmandaros. Within the Ritual that now descends upon this land, upon the battlefields and these ugly forests, death itself is denied. Should you kill the Tiste Edur here, his soul will be unleashed from his flesh, but it will remain, only marginally reduced in power.''I mean to kill him,' Kilmandaros said in her soft voice.'Then,' Gothos's smile broadened, 'you will need me.'Mael snorted.'Why do I need you?' Kilmandaros asked the Jaghut.He shrugged. 'A Finnest must be prepared. To house, to imprison, this Soletaken's soul.''Very well, then make one.''As a favour to you both? I think not, Elder G.o.ddess. No, alas, as with Mael here, you must acknowledge a debt. To me.''I have a better idea,' Kilmandaros said. 'I crush your skull between a finger and thumb, then I push your carca.s.s down Scabandari's throat, so that he suffocates on your pompous self. This seems a fitting demise for the both of you.''G.o.ddess, you have grown bitter and crabby in your old age,' Gothos said.'It is no surprise,' she replied. 'I made the mistake of trying to save Kurald Emurlahn.''Why bother?' Mael asked her.Kilmandaros bared jagged teeth. 'The precedent is . . . unwelcome. You go bury your head in the sands again, Mael, but I warn you, the death of one realm is a promise to every other realm.''As you say,' the Elder G.o.d said after a moment. 'And I do concede that possibility. In any case, Gothos demands recompense.'The fists unclenched, then clenched again. 'Very well. Now, Jaghut, fashion a Finnest.''This will do,' Gothos said, drawing an object into view from a tear in his ragged shirt.The two Elders stared at it for a time, then Mael grunted. 'Yes, I see, now. Rather curious choice, Gothos.''The only kind I make,' the Jaghut replied. 'Go on, then, Kilmandaros, proceed with your subtle conclusion to the Soletaken's pathetic existence.'The dragon hissed, screamed in rage and fear as the Elder G.o.ddess advanced.When she drove a fist into Scabandari's skull, centred on the ridge between and above the draconic eyes, the crack of the thick bone rang like a dirge down the length of the creva.s.se, and with the impact blood spurted from the G.o.ddess's knuckles.The dragon's broken head thumped heavily onto the broken bedrock, fluids spilling out from beneath the sagging body.Kilmandaros wheeled to face Gothos.He nodded. 'I have the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'Mael stepped towards the Jaghut, holding out a hand. 'I will take the Finnest then-''No.'Both Elders now faced Gothos, who smiled once more.'Repayment of the debt. For each of you. I claim the Finnest, the soul of Scabandari, for myself. Nothing remains between us, now. Are you not pleased?''What do you intend to do with it?' Mael demanded.'I have not yet decided, but I a.s.sure you, it will be most curiously unpleasant.'Kilmandaros made fists again with her hands and half raised them. 'I am tempted, Jaghut, to send my children after you.''Too bad they've lost their way, then.'Neither Elder said another word as Gothos departed from the fissure. It always pleased him, outwitting doddering old wrecks and all their h.o.a.ry, brutal power. Well, a momentary pleasure, in any case.The best kind.* * *Upon her return to the rent, Kilmandaros found another figure standing before it. Black-cloaked, white-haired. An expression of arched contemplation, fixed upon the torn fissure.About to enter the gate, or waiting for her? The Elder G.o.ddess scowled. 'You are not welcome in Kurald Emurlahn,' she said.Anomandaris Purake settled cool eyes upon the monstrous creature. 'Do you imagine I contemplate claiming the throne for myself?''You would not be the first.'He faced the rent again. 'You are besieged, Kilmandaros, and Edgewalker is committed elsewhere. I offer you my help.''With you, Tiste Andii, my trust is not easily earned.''Unjustified,' he replied. 'Unlike many others of my kind, I accept that the rewards of betrayal are never sufficient to overwhelm the cost. There are Soletaken now, in addition to feral dragons, warring in Kurald Emurlahn.''Where is Osserc?' the Elder G.o.ddess asked. 'Mael informed me that he-''Was planning to get in my way again? Osserc imagined I would take part in slaying Scabandari. Why should I? You and Mael were more than enough.' He grunted then. 'I can picture Osserc, circling round and round. Looking for me. Idiot.''And Scabandari's betrayal of your brother? You have no desire to avenge that?'Anomandaris glanced at her, then gave her a faint smile. 'The rewards of betrayal. The cost to Scabandari proved high, didn't it? As for Silchas, well, even the Azath do not last for ever. I almost envy him his new-found isolation from all that will afflict us in the millennia to come.''Indeed. Do you wish to join him in a similar barrow?''I think not.''Then I imagine that Silchas Ruin will not be inclined to forgive you your indifference, the day he is freed.''You might be surprised, Kilmandaros.''You and your kind are mysteries to me, Anomandaris Purake.''I know. So, G.o.ddess, have we a pact?'She c.o.c.ked her head. 'I mean to drive the pretenders from the realm if Kurald Emurlahn must die, then let it do so on its own.''In other words, you want to leave the Throne of Shadow unoccupied.''Yes.'He thought for a time, then he nodded. 'Agreed.''Do not wrong me, Soletaken.''I shall not. Are you ready, Kilmandaros?''They will forge alliances,' she said. 'They will all war against us.'Anomandaris shrugged. 'I have nothing better to do today.'The two Ascendants then walked through the gate, and, together, they closed the rent behind them. There were other paths, after all, to this realm. Paths that were not wounds.Arriving within Kurald Emurlahn, they looked upon a ravaged world.Then set about cleansing what was left of it.The Awl'dan, in the last days of King DiskanarPreda Bivatt, a captain in the Drene Garrison, was far from home. Twenty-one days by wagon, commanding an expedition of two hundred soldiers of the Tattered Banner Army, a troop of thirty Bluerose light cavalry, and four hundred support staff, including civilians, she had, after delivering orders for the setting of camp, slid down from the back of her horse to walk the fifty-odd paces to the edge of the bluff.When she reached the rise the wind struck her a hammer blow to her chest, as if eager to fling her back, to sc.r.a.pe her from this battered lip of land. The ocean beyond the ridge was a vision from an artist's nightmare, a seascape torn, churning, with heavy twisting clouds shredding apart overhead. The water was more white than blue-green, foam boiling, spume flying out from between rocks as the waves pounded the sh.o.r.e.Yet, she saw with a chill rushing in to bludgeon her bones, this was the place.A fisher boat, blown well off course, into the deadly maelstrom that was this stretch of ocean, a stretch that no trader ship, no matter how large, would willingly venture into. A stretch that had, eighty years ago, caught a Meckros City and had torn it to pieces, pulling into the depths twenty thousand or more dwellers of that floating settlement.The fisher crew had survived, long enough to draw their beleaguered craft safely aground in hip-deep water thirty or so paces from the bedrock strand. Catch lost, their boat punched into kindling by relentless waves, the four Letherii managed to reach dry land.To find . . . this.Tightening the strap of her helm, lest the wind tear it and her head from her shoulders, Preda Bivatt continued scanning the wreckage lining this sh.o.r.eline. The promontory she stood on was undercut, dropping away three man-heights to a bank of white sand heaped with elongated rows of dead kelp, uprooted trees, and remnants of eighty-year-old Meckros City. And something else. Something more unexpected.War canoes. The seagoing kind, each as long as a coralface whale, high-prowed, longer and broader of beam than Tiste Edur craft. Not flung ash.o.r.e as wreckage no, not one she could see displayed anything like damage. They were drawn up in rows high along the beach, although it was clear that that had happened some time past months at least, perhaps years.A presence at her side. The merchant from Drene who had been contracted to supply this expedition. Pale-skinned, his hair pallid blond, so fair as to be nearly white. The wind was blasting red the man's round face, but she could see his light blue eyes fixed on the array of war canoes, tracking, first westward along the beach, then eastward. 'I have some talent,' he said to her, loudly so as to be heard over the gale.Bivatt said nothing. The merchant no doubt had skill with numbers his claim to talent. And she was an officer in the Letherii Army, and could well gauge the likely complement of each enormous craft without his help. A hundred, give or take twenty.'Preda?''What?'The merchant gestured helplessly. 'These canoes.' He waved up the beach, then down. 'There must be . . .' And then he was at a loss for words.She well understood him.Yes. Rows upon rows, all drawn up to this forbidding sh.o.r.e. Drene, the nearest city of the kingdom, was three weeks away, to the southwest. Directly south of here was the land of the Awl'dan, and of the tribes' seasonal rounds with their huge herds virtually all was known. The Letherii were in the process of conquering them, after all. There had been no report of anything like this.Thus. Not long ago, a fleet arrived upon this sh.o.r.e. Whereupon everyone had disembarked, taking all they had with them, and then, presumably, set off inland.There should have been signs, rumours, a reverberation among the Awl at the very least. We should have heard about it We should have heard about it.But they hadn't. The foreign invaders had simply . . . disappeared.Not possible. How can it be? She scanned the rows once again, as if hoping that some fundamental detail would reveal itself, would ease the hammering of her heart and the leaden chill of her limbs. She scanned the rows once again, as if hoping that some fundamental detail would reveal itself, would ease the hammering of her heart and the leaden chill of her limbs.'Preda . . .'Yes. One hundred per craft. And here before us . . . stacked four, five deep what? Four, maybe five thousand? four, five deep what? Four, maybe five thousand? The north sh.o.r.eline was a ma.s.s of grey-wooded war canoes, for almost as far as she could see to the west and to the east. Drawn up. Abandoned. Filling the sh.o.r.e like a toppled forest. The north sh.o.r.eline was a ma.s.s of grey-wooded war canoes, for almost as far as she could see to the west and to the east. Drawn up. Abandoned. Filling the sh.o.r.e like a toppled forest.'Upwards of a half-million,' the merchant said. 'That is my estimate. Preda, where in the Errant's name did they all go?'She scowled. 'Kick that mage nest of yours, Letur Anict. Make them earn their exorbitant fees. The king needs to know. Every detail. Everything Everything.''At once,' the man said.While she would do the same with the Ceda's squad of acolytes. The redundancy was necessary. Without the presence of Kuru Qan's chosen students, she would never learn all that Letur Anict held back on his final report, would never be able to distil the truths from the half-truths, the outright lies. A perennial problem with hiring private contractors they had their own interests, after all, and loyalty to the crown was, for creatures like Letur Anict, the new Factor of Drene, always secondary.She began looking for a way down onto the beach. Bivatt wanted a closer look at these canoes, especially since it seemed that sections of their prows had been dismantled. Which is an odd thing to do. Yet, a manageable mystery, one I Which is an odd thing to do. Yet, a manageable mystery, one I can deal with and so not think about all the rest. can deal with and so not think about all the rest.'Upwards of a half-million.'Errant's blessing, who is now among us?The Awl'dan, following the Edur conquestThe wolves had come, then gone, and where corpses had been dragged out from the solid press atop the hilltop where the unknown soldiers had made their last stand the signs of their feeding were evident, and this detail remained with the lone rider as he walked his horse amidst the motionless, sprawled bodies. Such pillaging of the dead was . . . unusual. The dun-furred wolves of this plain were as opportunistic as any other predator on the Awl'dan, of course. Even so, long experience with humans should have sent the beasts fleeing at the first sour scent, even if it was commingled with that of spilled blood. What, then, had drawn them to this silent battlefield?The lone rider, face hidden behind a crimson scaled mask, drew rein near the base of the low hill. His horse was dying, racked with shivers; before the day's end the man would be walking. As he was breaking camp this dawn, a horn-nosed snake had nipped the horse as it fed on a tuft of sliver-stem gra.s.ses at the edge of a gully. The poison was slow but inevitable, and could not be neutralized by any of the herbs and medicines the man carried. The loss was regrettable but not disastrous, since he had not been travelling in haste.Ravens circled overhead, yet none descended nor had his arrival stirred them from this feast; indeed, it had been the sight of them, wheeling above this hill, that had guided him to this place. Their cries were infrequent, strangely muted, almost plaintive.The Drene legions had taken away their dead, leaving naught but their victims to feed the gra.s.ses of the plain. The morning's frost still mapped glistening patterns on death-dark skin, but the melt had already begun, and it seemed to him that these dead soldiers now wept, from stilled faces, from open eyes, from mortal wounds.Rising on his stirrups, he scanned the horizon as much of it as he could see seeking sight of his two companions, but the dread creatures had yet to return from their hunt, and he wondered if they had found a new, more inviting trail somewhere to the west the Letherii soldiers of Drene, marching triumphant and glutted back to their city. If so, then there would be slaughter on this day. The notion of vengeance, however, was incidental. His companions were indifferent to such sentiments. They killed for pleasure, as far as he could tell. Thus, the annihilation of the Drene, and any vengeance that could be ascribed to the deed existed only in his own mind. The distinction was important.Even so, a satisfying conceit.Yet, these victims here were strangers, these soldiers in their grey and black uniforms. Stripped now of weapons and armour, standards taken as trophies, their presence here in the Awl'dan in the heart of the rider's homeland was perturbing.He knew the invading Letherii, after all. The numerous legions with their peculiar names and fierce rivalries; he knew as well the fearless cavalry of the Bluerose. And the still-free kingdoms and territories bordering the Awl'dan, the rival D'rhasilhani, the Keryn, the Bolkando Kingdom and the Saphinand State he had treated with or crossed blades with them all, years ago, and none were as these soldiers here.Pale-skinned, hair the colour of straw or red as rust. Eyes of blue or grey. And . . . so many women. so many women.His gaze settled upon one such soldier, a woman near the hill's summit. Mangled by sorcery, her armour melded with the twisted flesh there were sigils visible on that armour . . .Dismounting, he ascended the slope, picking his way round bodies, moccasins skidding on blood-soaked mud, until he crouched down at her side.Paint on the blackened bronze hauberk. Wolf heads, a pair. One was white-furred and one-eyed, the other furred silver and black. A sigil he had not seen before.Strangers indeed.Foreigners. Here, in the land of his heart.Behind the mask, he scowled. Gone. Too long. Am I now Gone. Too long. Am I now the stranger? the stranger?Heavy drumbeats reverberated through the ground beneath his feet. He straightened. His companions were returning.So, no vengeance after all.Well, there was time yet.The mournful howl of wolves had awakened him this morning, their calls the first to draw him here, to this place, as if they sought a witness, as if indeed they had summoned him. While their cries had urged him on, he had not caught sight of the beasts, not once.The wolves had fed, however, some time this morning. Dragging bodies from the press.His steps slowed as he made his way down the slope, slowed until he stood, his breath drawn in and held as he looked more closely at the dead soldiers on all sides.The wolves have fed. But not as wolves do . . . not like . . . like this. like this.Chests torn open, ribs jutting . . . they had devoured hearts. Nothing else. Just the hearts.The drumbeats were louder now, closer, the rake of talons hissing through gra.s.s. Overhead, the ravens, screaming, fled in all directions.

BOOK ONE.

THE EMPEROR IN GOLD.

The lie stands alone, the solitary deceit with its back turned no matter the direction of your reluctant approach, and with each step your goal is driven on, your stride carried astray, the path enfolding upon itself, round and round you walk and what stood alone before you, errant as mischance, an accidental utterance, now reveals its legion of children, this ma.s.s seething in threads and knots and surrounded, you cannot draw breath, cannot move.The world is of your making and one day, my friend, you will stand alone amidst a sea of dead, the purchasing of your words all about you and the wind will laugh you a new path into unending torment the solitary deceit is its solitude, the lie is the lie standing alone, the threads and knots of the mult.i.tude tighten in righteous judgement with which you once so freely strangled every truthsayer, every voice of dissent.So now ease your thirst on my sympathy and die parched in the wasteland.Fragment found on the day the poetess Tesora Veddict was arrested by the Patriotists (six days before her Drowning)

CHAPTER ONE

Two forces, once in vicious opposition, now found themselves virtual bedmates, although neither could decide which of them had their legs pried open first. The simple facts are these: the original hierarchical structure of the Tiste Edur tribes proved well-suited to the Letherii system of power through wealth. The Edur became the crown, settling easy upon the bloated gluttony of Lether, but does a crown possess will? Does the wearer buckle beneath its burden? Another truth is now, in hindsight, self-evident. As seamless as this merging seemed to be, a more subtle, far deadlier conjoining occurred below the surface: that of the specific flaws within each system, and this blending was to prove a most volatile brew.The Hiroth Dynasty (Volume XVII) The Colony, a History of Lether Dinith Arnara'Where is this one from?'Ta.n.a.l Yathvanar watched the Invigilator slowly rotating the strange object in his pudgy hands, the onyx stones in the many rings on the short fingers glimmering in the shafts of sunlight that reached in through the opened window. The object Karos Invictad manipulated was a misshapen collection of bronze pins, the ends bent into loops that were twisted about one another to form a stiff cage. 'Bluerose, I believe, sir,' Ta.n.a.l replied. 'One of Senorbo's. The average duration for solving it is three days, although the record is just under two-''Who?' Karos demanded, glancing up from where he sat behind his desk.'A Tarthenal half-blood, if you can believe that, sir. Here in Letheras. The man is reputedly a simpleton, yet possesses a natural talent for solving puzzles.''And the challenge is to slide the pins into a configuration to create a sudden collapse.''Yes sir. It flattens out. From what I have heard the precise number of manipulations is-''No, Ta.n.a.l, do not tell me. You should know better.' The Invigilator, commander of the Patriotists, set the object down. 'Thank you for the gift. Now,' a brief smile, 'have we inconvenienced Bruthen Trana long enough, do you think?' Karos rose, paused to adjust his crimson silks the only colour and the only material he ever wore then collected the short sceptre he had made his official symbol of office, black bloodwood from the Edur homeland with silver caps studded in polished onyx stones, and gestured with it in the direction of the door.Ta.n.a.l bowed then led the way out into the corridor, to the broad stairs where they descended to the main floor, then strode through the double doors and out into the compound.The row of prisoners had been positioned in full sunlight, near the west wall of the enclosure. They had been taken from their cells a bell before dawn and it was now shortly past midday. Lack of water and food, and this morning's searing heat, combined with brutal sessions of questioning over the past week, had resulted in more than half of the eighteen detainees losing consciousness.Ta.n.a.l saw the Invigilator's frown upon seeing the motionless bodies collapsed in their chains.The Tiste Edur liaison, Bruthen Trana of the Den-Ratha tribe, was standing in the shade, more or less across from the prisoners, and the tall, silent figure slowly turned as Ta.n.a.l and Karos approached.'Bruthen Trana, most welcome,' said Karos Invictad. 'You are well?''Let us proceed, Invigilator,' the grey-skinned warrior said.'At once. If you will accompany me, we can survey each prisoner a.s.sembled here. The specific cases-''I have no interest in approaching them any closer than I am now,' Bruthen said. 'They are fouled in their own wastes and there is scant breeze in this enclosure.'Karos smiled. 'I understand, Bruthen.' He leaned his sceptre against a shoulder then faced the row of detainees. 'We need not approach, as you say. I will begin with the one to the far left, then-''Unconscious or dead?''Well, at this distance, who can say?'Noting the Edur's scowl, Ta.n.a.l bowed to Bruthen and Karos and walked the fifteen paces to the line. He crouched to examine the p.r.o.ne figure, then straightened. 'He lives.''Then awaken him!' Karos commanded. His voice, when raised, became shrill, enough to make a foolish listener wince foolish, that is, if the Invigilator was witness to that instinctive reaction. Such careless errors happened but once.Ta.n.a.l kicked at the prisoner until the man managed a dry, rasping sob. 'On your feet, traitor,' Ta.n.a.l said in a quiet tone. 'The Invigilator demands it. Stand, or I will begin breaking bones in that pathetic sack you call a body.'He watched as the prisoner struggled upright.'Water, please-''Not another word from you. Straighten up, face your crimes. You are Letherii, aren't you? Show our Edur guest the meaning of that.'Ta.n.a.l then made his way back to Karos and Bruthen. The Invigilator had begun speaking. '. . . known a.s.sociations with dissenting elements in the Physicians' College he has admitted as much. Although no specific crimes can be laid at this man's feet, it is clear that-''The next one,' Bruthen Trana cut in.Karos closed his mouth, then smiled without showing his teeth. 'Of course. The next is a poet, who wrote and distributed a call for revolution. He denies nothing and indeed, you can see his stoic defiance even from here.''And the one beside him?''The proprietor of an inn, the tavern of which was frequented by undesirable elements disenchanted soldiers, in fact and two of them are among these detainees. We were informed of the sedition by an honourable wh.o.r.e-''Honourable wh.o.r.e, Invigilator?' The Edur half smiled.Karos blinked. 'Why, yes, Bruthen Trana.''Because she informed on an innkeeper.''An innkeeper engaged in treason-''Demanding too high a cut of her earnings, more likely. Go on, and please, keep your descriptions of the crimes brief.''Of course,' Karos Invictad said, the sceptre gently tapping on his soft shoulder, like a baton measuring a slow march.Ta.n.a.l, standing at his commander's side, remained at attention whilst the Invigilator resumed his report of the specific transgressions of these Letherii. The eighteen prisoners were fair representations of the more than three hundred chained in cells below ground. A decent number of arrests for this week, Ta.n.a.l reflected. And for the most egregious traitors among them waited the Drownings. Of the three hundred and twenty or so, a third were destined to walk the ca.n.a.l bottom, burdened beneath crushing weights. Bookmakers were complaining these days, since no-one ever survived the ordeal any more. Of course, they did not complain too loudly, since the true agitators among them risked their own Drowning it had taken but a few of those early on to mute the protestations among the rest.This was a detail Ta.n.a.l had come to appreciate, one of Karos Invictad's perfect laws of compulsion and control, emphasized again and again in the vast treatise the Invigilator was penning on the subject most dear to his heart. Take any segment of population, impose strict yet clear Take any segment of population, impose strict yet clear definitions on their particular characteristics, then target definitions on their particular characteristics, then target them for compliance. Bribe the weak to expose the strong. them for compliance. Bribe the weak to expose the strong. Kill the strong, and the rest are yours. Move on to the next Kill the strong, and the rest are yours. Move on to the next segment. segment.Bookmakers had been easy targets, since few people liked them especially inveterate gamblers, and of those there were more and more with every day that pa.s.sed.Karos Invictad concluded his litany. Bruthen Trana nodded, then turned and left the compound.As soon as he was gone from sight, the Invigilator faced Ta.n.a.l. 'An embarra.s.sment,' he said. 'Those unconscious ones.''Yes sir.''A change of heads on the outer wall.''At once, sir.''Now, Ta.n.a.l Yathvanar, before anything else, you must come with me. It will take but a moment, then you can return to the tasks at hand.'They walked back into the building, the Invigilator's short steps forcing Ta.n.a.l to slow up again and again as they made their way to Karos's office.The most powerful man next to the Emperor himself took his place once more behind the desk. He picked up the cage of bronze pins, shifted a dozen or so in a flurry of precise moves, and the puzzle collapsed flat. Karos Invictad smiled across at Ta.n.a.l, then flung the object onto the desk. 'Despatch a missive to Senorbo in Bluerose. Inform him of the time required for me to find a solution, then add, from me to him, that I fear he is losing his touch.''Yes, sir.'Karos Invictad reached out for a scroll. 'Now, what was our agreed percentage on my interest in the Inn of the Belly-up Snake?''I believe Rautos indicated forty-five, sir.''Good. Even so, I believe a meeting is in order with the Master of the Liberty Consign. Later this week will do. For all our takings of late, we still possess a strange paucity in actual coin, and I want to know why.''Sir, you know Rautos Hivanar's suspicions on that matter.''Vaguely. He will be pleased to learn I am now prepared to listen more closely to said suspicions. Thus, two issues on the agenda. Schedule the meeting for a bell's duration. Oh, and one last thing, Ta.n.a.l.''Sir?''Bruthen Trana. These weekly visits. I want to know, is he compelled? Is this some Edur form of royal disaffection or punishment? Or are the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds truly interested in what we're up to? Bruthen makes no comment, ever. He does not even ask what punishments follow our judgements. Furthermore, his rude impatience tires me. It may be worth our while to investigate him.'Ta.n.a.l's brows rose. 'Investigate a Tiste Edur?''Quietly, of course. Granted, they ever give us the appearance of unquestioning loyalty, but I cannot help but wonder if they truly are immune to sedition among their own kind.''Even if they aren't, sir, respectfully, are the Patriotists the right organization-''The Patriotists, Ta.n.a.l Yathvanar,' said Karos sharply, 'possess the imperial charter to police the empire. In that charter no distinction is made between Edur and Letherii, only between the loyal and the disloyal.''Yes sir.''Now, I believe you have tasks awaiting you.'Ta.n.a.l Yathvanar bowed, then strode from the office.* * *The estate dominated a shelf of land on the north bank of Lether River, four streets west of Quillas Ca.n.a.l. Stepped walls marking its boundaries made their way down the bank, extending out into the water on posts to ease the current's tug more than two boat-lengths. Just beyond rose two mooring poles. There had been flooding this season. An infrequent occurrence in the past century, Rautos Hivanar noted as he leafed through the Estate Compendium a family tome of notes and maps recording the full eight hundred years of Hivanar blood on this land. He settled back in the plush chair and, with contemplative languor, finished his balat tea.The house steward and princ.i.p.al agent, Venitt Sathad, quietly stepped forward to return the Compendium to the wood and iron chest sunk in the floor beneath the map table, then replaced the floorboards and unfurled the rug over the spot. His tasks completed, he stepped back to resume his position beside the door.Rautos Hivanar was a large man, his complexion florid, his features robust. His presence tended to dominate a room, no matter how s.p.a.cious. He sat in the estate's library now, the walls shelved to the ceiling. Scrolls, clay tablets and bound books filled every available s.p.a.ce, the gathered learning of a thousand scholars, many of whom bore the Hivanar name.As head of the family and overseer of its vast financial holdings, Rautos Hivanar was a busy man, and such demands on his intellect had redoubled since the Tiste Edur conquest which had triggered the official formation and recognition of the Liberty Consign, an a.s.sociation of the wealthiest families in the Lether Empire in ways he could never have imagined before. He would be hard-pressed to explain how he found all such activities tedious or enervating. Yet that was what they had become, even as his suspicions slowly, incrementally, resolved into certainties; even as he began to perceive that, somewhere out there, there was an enemy or enemies bent on the singular task of economic sabotage. Not mere embezzlement, an activity with which he was personally very familiar, but something more profound, all-encompa.s.sing. An enemy An enemy. To all that sustained Rautos Hivanar, and the Liberty Consign of which he was Master; indeed, to all that sustained the empire itself, regardless of who sat upon the throne, regardless even of those savage, miserable barbarians who were now preening at the very pinnacle of Letherii society, like grey-feathered jackdaws atop a h.o.a.rd of baubles.Such comprehension, on Rautos Hivanar's part, would once have triggered a most zealous response within him. The threat alone should have sufficed to elicit a vigorous hunt, and the notion of an agency of such diabolical purpose one, he was forced to admit, guided by the most subtle genius should have enlivened the game until its pursuit acquired the power of obsession.Instead, Rautos Hivanar found himself seeking notations among the dusty ledgers for evidence of past floodings, pursuing an altogether more mundane mystery that would interest but a handful of muttering academics. And that, he admitted often to himself, was odd. Nonetheless, the compulsion gathered strength, and at night he would lie beside the rec.u.mbent, sweat-sheathed ma.s.s that was his wife of thirty-three years and find his thoughts working ceaselessly, struggling against the currents of time's cyclical flow, seeking to clamber his way back, with all his sensibilities, into past ages. Looking. Looking for something . . .Sighing, Rautos set down the empty cup, then rose.As he walked to the door, Venitt Sathad whose family line had been Indebted to the Hivanars for six generations now stepped forward to retrieve the fragile cup, then set off in his master's wake.Out onto the waterfront enclosure, across the mosaic portraying the invest.i.ture of Skoval Hivanar as Imperial Ceda three centuries past, then down the shallow stone stairs to what, in drier times, was the lower terrace garden. But the river's currents had swirled in here, stealing away soil and plants, exposing a most peculiar arrangement of boulders set like a cobbled street, framed in wooden posts arranged in a rectangle, the posts little more than rotted stumps now, rising from the flood's remnant pools.At the edge of the upper level, workers, under Rautos's direction, had used wood bulwarks to keep it from collapsing, and to one side sat a wheelbarrow filled with the mult.i.tude of curious objects that had been exposed by the floodwaters. These items had littered the cobbled floor.In all, Rautos mused, a mystery. There was no record whatsoever of the lower terrace garden's being anything but what it was, and the notations from the garden's designer from shortly after the completion of the estate's main buildings indicated the bank at that level was nothing more than ancient flood silts.The clay had preserved the wood, at least until recently, so there was no telling how long ago the strange construct had been built. The only indication of its antiquity rested with the objects, all of which were either bronze or copper. Not weapons, as one might find a.s.sociated with a barrow, and if tools, then they were for activities long forgotten, since not a single worker Rautos had brought to this place was able to fathom the function of these items they resembled no known tools, not for stone working, nor wood, nor the processing of foodstuffs.Rautos collected one and examined it, for at least the hundredth time. Bronze, clay-cast the f.l.a.n.g.e was clearly visible the item was long, roundish, yet bent at almost right angles. Incisions formed a cross-hatched pattern about the elbow. Neither end displayed any means of attachment not intended, therefore, as part of some larger mechanism. He hefted its considerable weight in his hand. There was something imbalanced about it, despite the centrally placed bend. He set it down and drew out a circular sheet of copper, thinner than the wax layer on a scrier's tablet. Blackened by contact with the clays, yet only now the edges showing signs of verdigris. Countless holes had been punched through the sheet, in no particular pattern, yet each hole was perfectly uniform, perfectly round, with no lip to indicate from which side it had been punched.'Venitt,' he said, 'have we a map recording the precise locations of these objects when they were originally found?''Indeed, Master, with but a few exceptions. You examined it a week past.''I did? Very well. Set it out once more on the table in the library, this afternoon.'Both men turned as the gate watcher appeared from the narrow side pa.s.sage along the left side of the house. The woman halted ten paces from Rautos and bowed. 'Master, a message from Invigilator Karos Invictad.''Very good,' Rautos replied distractedly. 'I will attend to it in a moment. Does the messenger await a response?''Yes, Master. He is in the courtyard.''See that refreshments are provided.'The watcher bowed then departed.'Venitt, I believe you must prepare to undertake a journey on my behalf.''Master?''The Invigilator at last perceives the magnitude of the threat.'Venitt Sathad said nothing.'You must travel to Drene City,' Rautos said, his eyes once more on the mysterious construct dominating the lower terrace. 'The Consign requires a most specific report of the preparations there. Alas, the Factor's own missives are proving unsatisfactory. I require confidence in those matters, if I am to apply fullest concentration to the threat closer to hand.'Again, Venitt did not speak.Rautos looked out onto the river. Fisher boats gathered in the bay opposite, two merchant traders drawing in towards the main docks. One of them, bearing the flag of the Esterrict family, looked damaged, possibly by fire. Rautos brushed the dirt from his hands and turned about, making his way back into the building, his servant falling into step behind him.'I wonder, what lies beneath those stones?''Master?''Never mind, Venitt. I was but thinking out loud.'The Awl'dan camp had been attacked at dawn by two troops of Atri-Preda Bivatt's Bluerose cavalry. Two hundred skilled lancers riding into a maelstrom of panic, as figures struggled out from the hide huts, as the Drene-bred wardogs, arriving moments before the horse-soldiers, closed on the pack of Awl herder and dray dogs, and in moments the three breeds of beast were locked in a vicious battle.The Awl warriors were unprepared, and few had time to even so much as find their weapons before the lancers burst into their midst. In moments, the slaughter extended out to encompa.s.s elders and children. Most of the women fought alongside their male kin wife and husband, sister and brother, dying together in a last blending of blood.The engagement between the Letherii and the Awl took all of two hundred heartbeats. The war among the dogs was far more protracted, for the herder dogs while smaller and more compact than their attackers were quick and no less vicious, while the drays, bred to pull carts in summer and sleds in winter, were comparable with the Drene breed. Trained to kill wolves, the drays proved more than a match for the wardogs, and if not for the lancers then making sport of killing the mottle-skinned beasts, the battle would have turned. As it was, the Awl pack finally broke away, the survivors fleeing onto the plain, eastward, a few Drene wardogs giving chase before being recalled by their handlers.Whilst lancers dismounted to make certain there were no survivors among the Awl, others rode out to collect the herds of myrid and rodara in the next valley.Atri-Preda Bivatt sat astride her stallion, struggling to control the beast with the smell of blood so heavy in the morning air. Beside her, sitting awkward and in discomfort on the unfamiliar saddle, Brohl Handar, the newly appointed Tiste Edur Overseer of Drene City, watched the Letherii systematically loot the encampment, stripping corpses naked and drawing their knives. The Awl bound their jewellery mostly gold deep in the braids of their hair, forcing the Letherii to slice away those sections of the scalp to claim their booty. Of course, there was more than just expedience in this mutilation, for it had been extended to the collecting of swaths of skin that had been decorated in tattoos, the particular style of the Awl rich in colour and often outlined in st.i.tched gold thread. These trophies adorned the roundshields of many lancers.The captured herds now belonged to the Factor of Drene, Letur Anict, and as Brohl Handar watched the hundreds of myrid come over the hill, their black woolly coats making them look like boulders as they poured down the hillside, it was clear that the Factor's wealth had just risen substantially. The taller rodara followed, blue-backed and long-necked, their long tails thrashing about in near-panic as wardogs on the herd's flanks plunged into feint attacks again and again.The breath hissed from the Atri-Preda's teeth. 'Where is the Factor's man, anyway? Those d.a.m.ned rodara are going to stampede. Lieutenant! Get the handlers to call off their hounds! Hurry!' The woman unstrapped her helm, pulled it free and set it atop the saddle horn. She looked across at Brohl. 'There you have it, Overseer.''So these are the Awl.'She grimaced, looked away. 'A small camp by their standards. Seventy-odd adults.''Yet, large herds.'Her grimace became a scowl. 'They were once larger, Overseer. Much larger.''I take it then that this campaign of yours is succeeding in driving away these trespa.s.sers.''Not my campaign.' She seemed to catch something in his expression for she added, 'Yes, of course, I command the expeditionary forces, Overseer. But I receive my orders from the Factor. And, strictly speaking, the Awl are not trespa.s.sers.''The Factor claims otherwise.''Letur Anict is highly ranked in the Liberty Consign.'Brohl Handar studied the woman for a moment, then said, 'Not all wars are fought for wealth and land, Atri-Preda.''I must disagree, Overseer. Did not you Tiste Edur invade pre-emptively, in response to the perceived threat of lost land and resources? Cultural a.s.similation, the end of your independence. There is no doubt in my mind,' she continued, 'that we Letherii sought to obliterate your civilization, as we had done already with the Tarthenal and so many others. And so, an economic war.''It does not surprise me, Atri-Preda, that your kind saw it that way. And I do not doubt that such concerns were present in the mind of the Warlock King. Did we conquer you in order to survive? Perhaps.' Brohl considered saying more, then he shook his head, watching as four wardogs closed on a wounded cattle dog. The lame beast fought back, but was soon down, kicking, then silent and limp as the wardogs tore open its belly.Bivatt asked, 'Do you ever wonder, Overseer, which of us truly won that war?'He shot her a dark look. 'No, I do not. Your scouts have found no other signs of Awl in this area, I understand. So now the Factor will consolidate the Letherii claim in the usual fashion?'The Atri-Preda nodded. 'Outposts. Forts, raised roads. Settlers will follow.''And then, the Factor will extend his covetous intentions, yet further east.''As you say, Overseer. Of course, I am sure you recognize the acquisitions gift the Tiste Edur as well. The empire's territory expands. I am certain the Emperor will be pleased.'This was Brohl Handar's second week as governor of Drene. There were few Tiste Edur in this remote corner of Rhulad's empire, less than a hundred, and only his three staff members were from Brohl's own tribe, the Arapay. The annexation of Awl'dan by what amounted to wholesale genocide had begun years ago long before the Edur conquest and the particulars of rule in far Letheras seemed to have little relevance to this military campaign. Brohl Handar, the patriarch of a clan devoted to hunting tusked seals, wondered not for the first time what he was doing here.t.i.tular command as Overseer seemed to involve little more than observation. The true power of rule was with Letur Anict, the Factor of Drene, who 'is highly ranked in the 'is highly ranked in the Liberty Consign' Liberty Consign'. Some kind of guild of merchants, he had learned, although he had no idea what, precisely, was liberating about this mysterious organization. Unless, of course, it was the freedom to do as they pleased. Including the use of imperial troops to aid in the acquisition of ever more wealth.'Atri-Preda.''Yes, Overseer?''These Awl do they fight back? No, not as they did today. I mean, do they mount raids? Do they ma.s.s their warriors on the path to all-out war?'She looked uncomfortable. 'Overseer, there are two . . . well, levels, to this.''Levels. What does that mean?''Official and . . . unofficial. It is a matter of perception.''Explain.''The belief of the common folk, as promulgated through imperial agents, is that the Awl have allied themselves with the Ak'ryn to the south, as well as the D'rhasilhani and the two kingdoms of Bolkando and Saphinand in short, all the territories bordering the empire creating a belligerent, warmongering and potentially overwhelming force the Horde of the Bolkando Conspiracy that threatens the entire eastern territories of the Lether Empire. It is only a matter of time before that horde is fully a.s.sembled, whereupon it will march. Accordingly, every attack launched by the Letherii military serves to diminish the numbers the Awl can contribute, and furthermore, the loss of valuable livestock in turn weakens the savages. Famine may well manage what swords alone cannot the entire collapse of the Awl.''I see. And the unofficial version?'She glanced across at him. 'There is no conspiracy, Overseer. No alliance. The truth is, the Awl continue to fight among themselves their grazing land is shrinking, after all. And they despise the Ak'ryn and the D'rhasilhani, and have probably never met anyone from Bolkando or Saphinand.' She hesitated, then said, 'We did clash with a mercenary company of some sort, two months past the disastrous battle that spurred your appointment, I suspect. They numbered perhaps seven hundred, and after a half-dozen skirmishes I led a force of six thousand Letherii in pursuit. Overseer, we lost almost three thousand soldiers in that final battle. If not for our mages . . .' She shook her head. 'And we still have no idea who they were.'Brohl studied the woman. He had known nothing about any such clash. The reason for his appointment? Perhaps. 'The official version you spoke of earlier the lie justifies the slaughter of the Awl, in the eyes of the commonry. All of which well serves the Factor's desire to make himself yet richer. I see. Tell me, Atri-Preda, why does Letur Anict need all that gold? What does he do with it?'The woman shrugged. 'Gold is power.''Power over whom?''Anyone, and everyone.''Excepting the Tiste Edur, who are indifferent to the Letherii idea of wealth.'She smiled. 'Are you, Overseer? Still?''What do you mean?''There are Hiroth in Drene yes, you have met them. Each claims kinship with the Emperor, and upon that claim they have commandeered the finest estates and land. They have hundreds of Indebted as slaves. Soon, perhaps, there will be Tiste Edur among the membership of the Liberty Consign.'Brohl Handar frowned. On a distant ridge stood three Awl dogs, two drays and one smaller cattle dog, watching as the herds were driven through the destroyed encampment the livestock bawling in the stench of spilled blood and wastes. He studied the three silhouettes on the ridge. Where would they go now, he wondered. 'I have seen enough.' He tugged his horse round, too tight on the reins, and the beast's head snapped up and it snorted, backing as it turned. Brohl struggled to keep his balance.If the Atri-Preda was amused she was wise enough not to show it.In the sky overhead, the first carrion birds had appeared.The South Jasp River, one of the four tributaries of Lether River leading down from the Bluerose Mountains, was flanked on its south bank by a raised road that, a short distance ahead, began its long climb to the mountain pa.s.s, beyond which lay the ancient kingdom of Bluerose, now subject to the Letherii Empire. The South Jasp ran fast here, the momentum of its savage descent from the mountains not yet slowed by the vast plain it now found itself crossing. The icy water pounded over huge boulders left behind by long-extinct glaciers, flinging bitter-cold mist into the air that drifted in clouds over the road.The lone figure awaiting the six Tiste Edur warriors and their entourage was if anything taller than any Edur, yet thin, wrapped in a black sealskin cloak, hood raised. Two baldrics criss-crossed its chest, from which hung two Letherii longswords, and the few wisps of long white hair that had pulled free in the wind were now wet, adhering to the collar of the cloak.To the approaching Merude Edur, the face within that cowl looked pallid as death, as if a corpse had just dragged itself free of the numbing river, something long frozen in the white-veined reaches of the mountains that awaited them.The lead warrior, a veteran of the conquest of Letheras, gestured for his comrades to halt then set out to speak to the stranger. In addition to the other five Edur, there were ten Letherii soldiers, two burdened wagons, and forty slaves shackled one to the next in a line behind the second wagon.'Do you wish company,' the Merude asked, squinting to see more of that shadowed face, 'for the climb to the pa.s.s? It's said there remain bandits and renegades in the heights beyond.''I am my own company.'The voice was rough, the accent archaic.The Merude halted three paces away. He could see more of that face, now. Edur features, more or less, yet white as snow. The eyes were . . . unnerving. Red as blood. 'Then why do you block our path?''You captured two Letherii two days back. They are mine.'The Merude shrugged. 'Then you should have kept them chained at night, friend. These Indebted will run at any opportunity. Fortunate for you that we captured them. Oh, yes of course I will return them into your care. At least the girl the man is an escaped slave from the Hiroth, or so his tattoos reveal. A Drowning awaits him, alas, but I will consider offering you a replacement. In any case, the girl, young as she is, is valuable. I trust you can manage the cost of retrieving her.''I will take them both. And pay you nothing.'Frowning, the Merude said, 'You were careless in losing them. We were diligent in recapturing them. Accordingly, we expect compensation for our efforts, just as you should expect a certain cost for your carelessness.''Unchain them,' the stranger said.'No. What tribe are you?' The eyes, still fixed unwavering upon his own, looked profoundly . . . dead dead. 'What has happened to your skin?' As dead as the Emperor's As dead as the Emperor's. 'What is your name?''Unchain them now.'The Merude shook his head, then he laughed a little weakly and waved his comrades forward as he began drawing his cutla.s.s.Disbelief at the absurdity of the challenge slowed his effort. The weapon was halfway out of its scabbard when one of the stranger's longswords flashed clear of its sheath and opened the Edur's throat.Shouting in rage, the other five warriors drew their blades and rushed forward, while the ten Letherii soldiers quickly followed suit.The stranger watched the leader crumple to the ground, blood spurting wild into the river mist descending onto the road. Then he unsheathed his other longsword and stepped to meet the five Edur. A clash of iron, and all at once the two Letherii weapons in the stranger's hands were singing, a rising timbre with every blow they absorbed.Two Edur stumbled back at the same time, both mortally wounded, one in the chest, the other with a third of his skull sliced away. This latter one turned away as the fighting continued, reaching down to collect the fragment of scalp and bone, then walked drunkenly back along the road.Another Edur fell, his left leg cut out from beneath him. The remaining two quickly backed away, yelling at the Letherii who were now hesitating three paces behind the fight.The stranger pressed forward. He parried a thrust from the Edur on the right with the longsword in his left hand sliding the blade under then over, drawing it leftward before a twist of his wrist tore the weapon from the attacker's hand; then a straight-arm thrust of his own buried his point in the Edur's throat. At the same time he reached over with the longsword in his right hand, feinting high. The last Edur leaned back to avoid that probe, attempting a slash aimed at clipping the stranger's wrist. But the longsword then deftly dipped, batting the cutla.s.s away, even as the point drove up into the warrior's right eye socket, breaking the delicate orbital bones on its way into the forebrain.Advancing between the two falling Edur, the stranger cut down the nearest two Letherii at which point the remaining eight broke and ran, past the wagons where the drivers were themselves scrambling in panicked abandonment and then alongside the row of staring prisoners. Running, flinging weapons away, down the road.As one Letherii in particular moved opposite one of the slaves, a leg kicked out, tripping the man, and it seemed the chain-line writhed then, as the ambushing slave leapt atop the hapless Letherii, loose chain wrapping round the neck, before the slave pulled it taut. Legs kicked, arms thrashed and hands clawed, but the slave would not relent, and eventually the guard's struggles ceased.Silchas Ruin, the swords keening in his hands, walked up to where Udinaas continued strangling the corpse. 'You can stop now,' the albino Tiste Andii said.'I can,' Udinaas said through clenched teeth, 'but I won't. This b.a.s.t.a.r.d was the worst of them. The worst.''His soul even now drowns in the mist,' Silchas Ruin said, turning as two figures emerged from the brush lining the ditch on the south side of the road.'Keep choking him,' said Kettle, from where she was chained farther down the line. 'He hurt me, that one.''I know,' Udinaas said in a grating voice. 'I know.'Silchas Ruin approached Kettle. 'Hurt you. How?''The usual way,' she replied. 'With the thing between his legs.''And the other Letherii?'The girl shook her head. 'They just watched. Laughing, always laughing.'Silchas Ruin turned as Seren Pedac arrived.Seren was chilled by the look in the Tiste Andii's uncanny eyes as Silchas Ruin said, 'I will pursue the ones who flee, Acquitor. And rejoin you all before day's end.'She looked away, her gaze catching a momentary glimpse of Fear Sengar, standing over the corpses of the Merude Tiste Edur, then quickly on, to the rock-littered plain to the south where still wandered the Tiste Edur who'd lost a third of his skull. But that sight as well proved too poignant. 'Very well,' she said, now squinting at the wagons and the horses standing in their yokes. 'We will continue on this road.'Udinaas had finally expended his rage on the Letherii body beneath him, and he rose to face her. 'Seren Pedac, what of the rest of these slaves? We must free them all.'She frowned. Exhaustion was making thinking difficult. Months and months of hiding, fleeing, eluding both Edur and Letherii; of finding their efforts to head eastward blocked again and again, forcing them ever northward, and the endless terror that lived within her, had driven all acuity from her thoughts. Free them. Yes. But then Free them. Yes. But then . . . . . .'Just more rumours,' Udinaas said, as if reading her mind, as if finding her thoughts before she did. 'There's plenty of those, confusing our hunters. Listen, Seren, they already know where we are, more or less. And these slaves they'll do whatever they can to avoid recapture. We need not worry overmuch about them.'She raised her brows. 'You vouch for your fellow Indebted, Udinaas? All of whom will turn away from a chance to buy their way clear with vital information, yes?''The only alternative, then,' he said, eyeing her, 'is to kill them all.'The ones listening, the ones not yet beaten down into mindless automatons, suddenly raised their voices in proclamations and promises, reaching out towards Seren, chains rattling. The others looked up in fear, like myrid catching scent of a wolf they could not see. Some cried out, cowering in the stony mud of the road.'The first Edur he killed,' said Udinaas, 'has the keys.'Silchas Ruin had walked down the road. Barely visible in the mist, the Tiste Andii veered into something huge, winged, then took to the air. Seren glanced over at the row of slaves none had seen that, she was relieved to note. 'Very well,' she said in answer to Udinaas, and she walked up to where Fear Sengar still stood near the dead Edur.'I must take the keys,' she said, crouching beside the first fallen Edur.'Do not touch him,' Fear said.She looked up at him. 'The keys the chains-''I will find them,' he said.Nodding, she straightened, then stepped back. Watched as he spoke a silent prayer, then settled onto his knees beside the body. He found the keys in a leather pouch tied to the warrior's belt, a pouch that also contained a handful of polished stones. Fear took the keys in his left hand and held the stones in the palm of his right. 'These,' he said, 'are from the Merude sh.o.r.e. Likely he collected them when but a child.''Children grow up,' Seren said. 'Even straight trees sp.a.w.n crooked branches.''And what was flawed in this warrior?' Fear demanded, glaring up at her. 'He followed my brother, as did every other warrior of the tribes.''Some eventually turned away, Fear.' Like you Like you.'What I have turned away from lies in the shadow of what I am now turned towards, Acquitor. Does this challenge my loyalty towards the Tiste Edur? My own kind? No. That is something all of you forget, conveniently so, again and again. Understand me, Acquitor. I will hide if I must, but I will not kill my own people. We had the coin, we could have bought their freedom-''Not Udinaas.'He bared his teeth, said nothing.Yes, Udinaas, the one man you dream of killing. If not for Silchas Ruin Silchas Ruin . . . 'Fear Sengar,' she said. 'You have chosen to travel with us, and there can be no doubt none at all that Silchas Ruin commands this meagre party. Dislike his methods if you must, but he alone will see you through. You know this.' . . . 'Fear Sengar,' she said. 'You have chosen to travel with us, and there can be no doubt none at all that Silchas Ruin commands this meagre party. Disl