Midnight tides

Udinaas had stood quietly in the gloom during the audience with the delegation. His fellow Letherii had not marked his presence. And, had they done so, it would not have mattered, for it was the emperor who commanded the exchange. After the dismissal of the delegation and the Acquitor’s departure, Rhulad had beckoned Hull Beddict closer.

‘You swear your fealty to us,’ the emperor said in a murmur, as if tasting each word before it escaped his mangled lips.

‘I know the details you need, Emperor, the location and complement of every garrison, every frontier encampment. I know their tactics, the manner in which armies are arrayed for battle. The way sorcery is employed. I know where the food and water caches are hidden – these are the military repositories, and they are massive.’

Rhulad leaned forward. ‘You would betray your own people. Why?’

‘Vengeance,’ Hull Beddict replied.

The word chilled Udinaas.

‘Sire,’ Hull continued, ‘my people betrayed me. Long ago. I have long awaited an opportunity such as this one.’

‘And so, vengeance. A worthy sentiment?’

‘Emperor, there is nothing else left for me.’

‘Tell us, Hull Beddict, will the mighty Letherii fleet take to the waves to challenge us?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Not at first, anyway.’

‘And their armies?’

‘The doctrine is one of an initial phase of rolling, mobile defence, drawing your forces ever forward. Then counter-attack. Deep strikes to cut your supply lines. Attack and withdraw, attack and withdraw. By the third phase, they will encircle your armies to complete the annihilation. Their fleets will avoid any sea engagement, for they know that to conquer Lether you must make landing. Instead, I suspect they will send their ships well beyond sight of the coastline, then attack your homeland. The villages here, which they will burn to the ground. And every Tiste Edur they find here, old or young, will be butchered.’

Rhulad grunted, then said, ‘They think we are fools.’

‘The Letherii military is malleable, Emperor. Its soldiers are trained to quick adaptation, should the circumstances warrant it. A formidable, deadly force, exquisitely trained and, employing the raised roads constructed exclusively for it, frighteningly mobile. Worse, they have numerical superiority-’

‘Hardly,’ Rhulad cut in, smiling. ‘The Edur possess new allies, Hull Beddict, as you shall soon discover. Very well, we are satisfied, and we conclude that you shall prove useful to us. Go now to our father’s house, and make greeting with Binadas, who will be pleased to see you.’

The Letherii bowed and strode from the chamber.

‘Hannan Mosag,’ Rhulad called in a low voice.

A side curtain was drawn aside and Udinaas watched the once-Warlock King enter.

‘It would seem,’ Rhulad said, ‘your studies of the Letherii military have yielded you an accurate assessment. His description of their tactics and strategies matches yours exactly.’

‘How soon, Emperor?’

‘Are the tribes readying themselves?’

‘With alacrity.’

‘Then very soon indeed. Tell us your thoughts on Nifadas and the prince.’

‘Nifadas understood quickly that all was lost, but the prince sees that loss as a victory. At the same time, both remain confident in their kingdom’s military prowess. Nifadas mourns for us, Emperor.’

‘Poor man. Perhaps he has earned our mercy for that misguided sentiment.’

‘Given the course you have chosen for our people, Emperor, mercy is a notion dangerous to entertain. You can be certain that none will be accorded us.’

Another spasm afflicted Rhulad, such as the one Udinaas had witnessed earlier. He thought he understood its source. A thousand bindings held together Rhulad’s sanity, but madness was assailing that sanity, and the defences were buckling. Not long ago, no more than the youngest son of a noble family, strutting the village but not yet blooded. In his mind, panoramic visions of glory swinging in a slow turn round the place where he stood. The visions of a youth, crowded with imagined scenarios wherein Rhulad could freely exercise his own certainty, and so prove the righteousness of his will.

And now that boy sat on the Edur throne.

He just had to die to get there.

The sudden manifestation of glory still fed him, enough to shape his words and thoughts and feed his imperial comportment, as if the royal ‘we’ was something to which he had been born. But this was at the barest edge of control. An imperfect facade, bolstered by elaborately constructed speech patterns, a kind of awkward articulation that suited Rhulad’s childlike notions of how an emperor should speak. These were games of persuasion, as much to himself as to his audience.

But, Udinaas was certain, other thoughts remained in Rhulad’s mind, gnawing at the roots and crawling like pallid worms through his necrotic soul. For all the glittering gold, the flesh beneath was twisted and scarred. To fashion the facade, all that lay beneath it had been malformed.