Reaper's Gale

Fortunately, he was dozing at the moment, bearded chin on his broad chest, thus sparing her his knowing look.



Ah, if only Tehol Beddict was here with me-he’d have them all reeling. In confusion or laughter? Laughter would be bad, very bad. For me. For anyone sitting too close to me. Very well, forget Tehol Beddict. 1 must be losing my mind.



The Adjunct addressed her. ‘Captain, I have spoken at length with Shake Brullyg, seeking to complete my understanding of this Letherii Empire. Yet I find his replies increasingly unsatisfactory-’



‘Poor Brullyg’s despondent,’ Shurq said. ‘And lovelorn. Well, perhaps unrequited lust is more accurate a description for his sordid, uncommunicative state of mind.’ Hah, she could out’Tehol Tehol Beddict! With no risk of laughing either!



Brullyg blinked at her.



Sergeant Balm leaned towards Throatslitter. ‘What did she just say?’



‘The Emperor,’ said Tavore.



Shurq frowned, but waited.



‘Of a Thousand Deaths.’



‘The title’s an exaggeration, I’m sure. Maybe a few hundred. Champions. They all die, eventually.’



‘Presumably he is well protected by his Edur in the palace.’



Shurq Elalle shrugged. ‘Not many details creep out of the Eternal Domicile, Adjunct. The Chancellor and his entire staff-Letherii-were retained after the conquest. There is also, now, a very powerful secret police, also Letherii.



As for the economic apparatus, well, that too is Letherii.’



The tattooed woman named Lostara Yil snorted. ‘Then what in Hood’s name are the Edur doing? Where do they fit?’



‘On top,’ Shurq replied. ‘Wobbling.’



There was a long moment of silence.



‘Yet,’ Tavore finally said, ‘the Edur Emperor cannot be killed.’



‘That is true.’ Shurq watched as these details worked their way through the Malazans, with the exception of Deadsmell, of course, whose snores were waves rolling ashore in the little dank cavern of a room.



‘Is that,’ Tavore asked, ‘irrelevant?’



‘Sometimes seems that way,’ Shurq conceded. Oh, she wished she could drink wine without its draining out everywhere. She could do with a tankard or two.



‘An Emperor whose very rule is dictated by the sword,’ Tavore said. ‘What remain unhoned, however, are the necessities of administering an empire.’



‘Very dull necessities, aye,’ Shurq said, smiling.



‘The Tiste Edur, leaning hard against the undying solidity of their ruler, exist under the delusion of mastery,’ Tavore continued. ‘But reality is not so generous.’



Nodding, Shurq Elalle said, ‘The Tiste Edur were fisher folk, seal-hunters. Builders in wood. A half-dozen or so tribes. There was someone called the Warlock King, Hannan Mosag, who waged a war of subjugation-why he didn’t end up with that dreadful sword only the Edur know and it is not something they talk about.’



‘Does this Hannan Mosag still live?’ Tavore asked.



‘The Emperor’s new Ceda.’



Deadsmell’s snores ceased. ‘Imperial High Mage,’ he said. ‘Ceda, a degradation of “Cedance”, I’d wager. “Cedance” was some sort of ritual back in the days of the First Empire.’ His eyes opened halfway. ‘Ebron won’t be at all surprised. These Letherii are some lost colony of the First Empire.’ The heavy lids slid down once more, and a moment later his snores groaned back to life.



Shurq Elalle thought to clear her throat, changed her mind. Things were rank enough as it was. ‘The point I was making, Adjunct, is that the Tiste Edur couldn’t administer their way through a mooring tithe. They’re warriors and hunters-the males, that is. The females are, as far as I can tell, completely useless mystics of some sort, and since the conquest they’ve virtually disappeared from sight.’



Boots echoed from the corridor and moments later the door opened. Accompanied by Gait and the odd little man named Widdershins, two Letherii soldiers strode into the chamber. One of them was an Atri-Preda.



Shake Brullyg lurched back in his chair, almost toppling it. Face twisting, he rose. ‘Damn every damned witch to the deep!’



‘It gets worse,’ the Atri-Preda replied with a faint smile on her lips. ‘I choose my own Rise, and you are not him. Yedan, throw this fool out on his arse-any window will do.’



Sudden alarm in Brullyg’s eyes as he stared at the soldier at the captain’s side, who made to move forward.



Gait’s sword was out of its scabbard in a blur, settled flat against the soldier’s stomach, halting the man in his tracks. ‘Maybe we should all back this up a few steps,’ he said in a drawl. ‘Adjunct, allow me to present Atri-Preda Yan Tovis and Shore Watch Yedan Derryg-which I take it is some kind of sergeant in charge of some kind of coastal patrol. What’s “Atri-Preda”? Captain? Commander? Whatever, they was in charge of that half-drowned bunch the Perish plucked from the storm.’