Midnight Tides
‘Perceptions can be made integral to strategy,’ Brys said.
‘Spoken as a duellist,’ Nisall said. ‘But the advantages to the queen granted by Gerun’s absence perhaps outweigh any advantage we might fashion. Besides, we know Buruk the Pale proceeds under directions from her camp, so his loss will not hurt us.’
Brys considered this, uneasy at such a cavalier dismissal of a man’s life. ‘How well does Buruk sit with his burdens?’
‘We have a spy close to him, of course,’ the Preda said. ‘The man is tortured by his conscience. He escapes with white nectar and drink, and dissolute sexual indulgences.’
‘The queen…’
‘Wants war,’ Nisall finished with a sharp nod. ‘The irresponsible, greedy, short-sighted sea-cow. A fine partner to the stupidest chancellor in the history of Letheras. And a thick, easily led prince waiting impatiently to take the throne.’
Brys shifted uncomfortably. ‘Perhaps, if Buruk’s conscience is haunting him, he can be swayed to another course.’
‘Beneath the hawk gaze of Moroch Nevath? Not likely.’
The Champion’s eyes narrowed on Nisall. This was all leading to something. He just wasn’t sure what.
The Preda sighed. ‘Gerun needs to add a name to his list.’
‘Moroch Nevath?’
‘And that will be difficult.’
‘It will. The man is singular. In every way imaginable. Incorruptible, with a history to match.’
‘And to whom is the man sworn?’
‘Why, the prince, of course. But the King’s Leave does not include killing royalty.’
‘Yet his history is far less pure.’
Nisall added, ‘Gerun would not be able to act directly against the Prince. He would need to attack obliquely.’
‘First Concubine, I have little understanding of Gerun Eberict’s motivations. I do not comprehend the nature of his cause.’
‘I do,’ the Preda said. ‘I know precisely what he’s up to. And I believe we can see that he adds to his list.’
‘The concern is,’ Nisall said, ‘what role will his old Finadd, Hull Beddict, have during the playing out of all this.’
Brys looked away. He was beginning to feel under siege. If not one brother, then the other. ‘I will give it some thought.’
‘Not too long, Finadd,’ Unnutal Hebaz said.
‘A day or two, perhaps.’
‘Agreed. Until then, Brys.’
‘Goodnight Preda, First Concubine.’
He made his way out of the office.
In the corridor, five paces from the two guards standing vigil at the door through which he had just exited, his steps slowed to a halt. Unmindful of the curious eyes on his back, the King’s Champion stood motionless.
In the minds of the two guards, three titles. Master of the Sword, Finadd and King’s Champion – all were cause for envy and admiration. They might have wondered at him at that moment, however. The way he stood, as if entirely alone in a large, overwhelming world. Eyes clearly fixed on some inner landscape. Weariness in his shoulders. They might have wondered, but if so it was a brief, ephemeral empathy, quickly replaced by those harder sentiments, envy and admiration. And the gruff assertion that supreme ability purchased many things, including isolation. And the man could damn well live with it.
‘There’s no place for sentiment here,’ Tehol said, ‘sad to say. Letheras is unforgiving. We can’t afford to make mistakes. For Errant’s sake, Ublala, relax. You’re turning blue. Anyway, as I was saying, Shand, it’s careless being careless. In other words, we can’t keep meeting like this.’
‘Do you practise?’ Rissarh asked.
‘At what?’
Bugg cleared his throat. ‘I have a meeting tomorrow with the royal architects.’
‘Finally!’ Shand sighed from where she sat at the table, knuckling her eyes before continuing, ‘As far as we could tell nothing was happening about anything.’
‘Well,’ Tehol said, ‘that’s precisely the impression we want.’
‘Fine, but that’s the outside impression. It’s not supposed to apply to us, you idiot. If we aren’t in on the scheme then no-one is.’
‘Preparation, Shand. The groundwork. This can’t be rushed. Now, I’ve got to go.’
‘What?’
‘It’s late. My bed beckons. Fix up a room for Ublala. Get him some clothes. Maybe even a weapon he knows how to use.’
‘Don’t leave me here!’ Ublala moaned.