Midnight Tides

Udinaas returned to the door. To await the summons he knew would come, eventually.



Emperor and slave. A score of paces, a thousand leagues. In the span of intractable command and obedience, the mind did not count distance. For the path was well worn, as it always had been and as it would ever be.



The wraiths gathered, in desultory legions, in the surrounding forest, among them massive demons bound in chains that formed a most poignant armour. Creatures heaving up from the sea to hold the four hundred or more K’orthan raider ships now being readied, eager to carry them south. Among the tribes, in every village, the sorcerors awakening to the new emperor’s demand.



A summons to war.



Across a worn rug.



Heroes triumphant.



From beyond the wooden portal came Mayen’s cry.



He emerged from the forest, his face pallid, his expression haunted, and halted in surprise at seeing the readied wagons, Buruk swearing at the Nerek as they scurried about. Seren Pedac had completed donning her leather armour and was strapping on her sword-belt.



She watched him approach.



‘Dire events, Hull Beddict.’



‘You are leaving?’



‘Buruk has so commanded.’



‘What of the iron he sought to sell?’



‘It goes back with us.’ She looked about, then said, ‘Come, walk with me. I need to speak one last time with the First Eunuch.’



Hull slowly nodded. ‘Good. There is much that I must tell you.’



Her answering smile was wry. ‘It was my intent to accord the same to you.’



They set off for the guest house near the citadel. Once more through the ringed divisions of the Edur city. This time, however, the citizens they passed were silent, sombre. Seren and Hull moved among them like ghosts.



‘I visited the old sites,’ Hull said. ‘And found signs of activity.’



‘What old sites?’ Seren asked.



‘North of the crevasse, the forest cloaks what was once a vast city, stretching on for leagues. It was entirely flagstoned, the stone of a type I’ve never seen before. It does not break, and only the action of roots has succeeded in shifting the slabs about.’



‘Why should there be any activity at such places? Beyond that of the usual ghosts and wraiths?’



Hull glanced at her momentarily, then looked away. ‘There are… kill sites. Piles of bones that have long since turned to stone. Skeletal remains of Tiste. Along with the bones of some kind of reptilian beast-’



‘Yes, I have seen those,’ Seren said. ‘They are collected and ground into medicinal powder by the Nerek.’



‘Just so. Acquitor, these sites have been disturbed, and the tracks I found were most disconcerting. They are, I believe, draconic.’



She stared at him in disbelief. ‘The Hold of the Dragon has remained inactive, according to the casters of the tiles, for thousands of years.’



‘When did you last speak to a caster?’



Seren hesitated, thinking back on Feather Witch’s efforts. When, it was hinted, all was in flux. ‘Very well. Draconic’ The thought of dragons, manifest in this world, was terrifying. ‘But I cannot see how this relates to the Tiste Edur-’



‘Seren Pedac, you must have realized by now that the Tiste Edur worship dragons. Father Shadow, the three Daughters, they are all draconic. Or Soletaken. In the depths of the crevasse a short distance from here can be found the shattered skull of a dragon. I believe that dragon is Father Shadow, the one the Edur call Scabandari Bloodeye. Perhaps this is the source of the betrayal that seems to be the heart of Edur religion. I found tracks there as well. Edur footprints.’



‘And what significance have you drawn from all this, Hull?’



‘There will be war. A fated war, born of a renewed sense of destiny. I fear for Hannan Mosag, for I think he has grasped a dragon’s tail – perhaps more than figuratively. This could prove too much, even for him and his K’risnan.’



‘Hull, the Warlock King no longer rules the Edur.’



Shock; then his expression darkened. ‘Did the delegation arrive with assassins in its company?’



‘He was deposed before the delegation’s arrival,’ she replied. ‘Oh, I don’t know where to begin. Binadas’s brother, Rhulad. He died, then rose again, with in his possession a sword – the gift that Hannan Mosag sought. Rhulad has proclaimed himself emperor. And Hannan Mosag knelt before him.’



Hull’s eyes shone. ‘As I said, then. Destiny.’



‘Is that what you choose to call it?’



‘I hear anger in your voice, Acquitor.’