Midnight Tides

Shurq Elalle asked, ‘How late is it?’



‘Almost dawn.’



‘Where’s your manservant?’



‘I don’t know. Somewhere, I would think.’



‘Really?’



Tehol clapped his hands. ‘Let’s head onto the roof. We can see if my silent bodyguard changes expression upon seeing your beauty.’



‘What has he been doing up there all this time?’



‘Probably standing directly above the doorway here, in case some unwelcome visitor arrived – which, fortunately, did not happen. Brys’s messenger girl hardly qualified.’



‘And what could he have done about some attacker from up there?’



‘I imagine he would have flung himself straight down in a flurry of swords, knives and clubs, beating the intruder senseless in an instant. Either that, or he’d shout then run back to the ladder, climb down and exact revenge over our corpses.’



‘Your corpse. Not mine.’



‘You’re right, of course. My mistake.’



‘I am not surprised you are confused now, Tehol,’ Shurq said sweeping back her hair with both hands, the gesture admirably flinging out her chest. ‘Given the pleasure you discovered in my wares earlier.’



‘Your “wares” indeed. A good term to use, since it could mean virtually anything. Now, shall we head up to greet the dawn?’



‘If you insist. I can’t stay long. Ublala will be getting worried.’



‘Harlest will advise him how the dead have no sense of time, Shurq. No need to fret.’



‘He was muttering about dismembering Harlest just before I left them.’



They walked to the ladder, Shurq taking the lead.



‘I thought he was trapped in a sarcophagus,’ Tehol pointed out.



‘We could still hear him. Dramatic hissing and scratching on the underside of the lid. It was, even for me, somewhat irritating.’



‘Well, let’s hope Ublala did nothing untoward.’



They climbed.



The sky was paling to the east, but a chill remained in the air. The bodyguard stood facing them until he had their attention, then he pointed towards the river.



The Edur fleet crowded the span, hundreds of raider craft and transports, a dark sweep of sails. Among the lead ships, oars had appeared, sliding out from the flanks of the hulls. The landings would begin within the bell.



Tehol studied them for a moment, then he faced northwest. The white columns of the battle the day before were gone, although a stain of dark smoke from the keep lingered, lit high above the horizon by the sun’s first shafts. Above the west road was a streak of dust, drawing closer as the sun rose.



It was some time before either Tehol or Shurq spoke, then the latter turned away and said, ‘I have to go.’



‘Stay low,’ Tehol said.



She paused at the top of the ladder. ‘And you, Tehol Beddict, stay here. On this roof. With that guard standing close.’



‘Sound plan, Shurq Elalle.’



‘Given the chance, Gerun Eberict will come for you.’



‘And you.’



From the far west gate, a raucous flurry of bells announced the approach of the Edur army.



The thief disappeared down through the hatch.



Tehol stood facing west. His back grew warmer, and he knew that this day would be a hot one.



One of her hands rested on the king’s shoulder, but Brys could see that Nisall was near collapse. She had stood vigil over Ezgara Diskanar most of the night, as if love alone could guard the man against all dangers. Exhaustion had taken the king into sleep, and he now sat the throne like a corpse, slumped, head lolling. The crown had fallen off some time in the night and was lying beside the throne on the dais.



The Chancellor, Triban Gnol, had been present earlier but had left with the last change of guards. Ghost-like since the loss of the queen and the prince, and Turudal Brizad, he had grown suddenly ancient and withered, drifting down corridors speaking to no-one.



Finadd Moroch Nevath had disappeared, although Brys trusted that the swordsman would arrive when the time came. For all that he had suffered, he was a brave man and none of the rumours concerning his conduct at High Fort were, to Brys’s mind, worth the spit needed to utter them.



First Eunuch Nifadas, along with Brys Beddict, had assumed the responsibility for what remained of the soldiers in the palace. Each wing entranceway was now barricaded by at least thirty guards, with the exception of the King’s Path, where the Ceda in his madness had forbidden anyone to remain, barring himself. In the city beyond, Finadd Gerun Eberict and the city garrison were positioned throughout Letheras, their numbers insufficient to hold the gates or walls yet prepared to fight none the less – at least, Brys assumed that was the case, since he had not left the throne room in some time, and Gerun had not reappeared since the man assumed command of the garrison.