Midnight Tides

Udinaas strode to the table where sat a jug of Letherii wine. ‘I visited Dresh, once,’ he said as he poured out two cups full. ‘And ate smoked Moss River eel. Would you like me to tell about Moss River eels, Emperor?’ He carried the two goblets over to the Edur seated on the throne.



‘Is it inconsequential?’



Udinaas hesitated, then nodded. ‘It is.’



‘Then, yes, Udinaas. We would.’



Seren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen rode at a canter. Half a league ahead was the town of Dissent. It had once been walled, but local builders had dismantled most of the stonework long ago. The town had since grown outward in a mostly chaotic manner, swallowing commons and nearby farms. But now Dissent was barely visible, devoured in turn by at least three encamped armies.



‘Crimson Rampant Brigade,’ Seren said, scanning the distant banners. ‘Snakebelt Battalion, and the Riven Brigade.’



‘Can we ride straight through?’ Iron Bars asked.



She glanced across at him, then nodded. ‘I think so. My apologies. I’m a little shocked, that’s all. If this is all that’s left of the frontier armies…’



‘The ground ahead is not ideal for a battle,’ the Avowed judged. ‘I’d be surprised if the king intended to await the Edur here. Can you think of anywhere else close by that might be better suited?’



‘Brans Keep, in the hills a few leagues northeast of Dissent.’



‘And Dissent is the nearest major town?’



‘Apart from Letheras itself,’ Seren said.



‘Then this is temporary encampment. When the Tiste Edur draw closer, those three armies will march to Brans Keep. Assuming the warlord commanding them has any wits at all. In any case, Acquitor, other Letherii forces might already be waiting there, at Brans Keep. It’s a question of logistics, keeping these ones here.’



‘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.’