Reaper's Gale

Rhulad left the harsh sunlight and stood in the tunnel entrance, swallowed by shadows.



My grand empire.



The Chancellor stood before him each day, and lied. All was well, all would be well with the execution of Tehol Beddict. The mines were working overtime, forging more currency, but this needed careful control, because Karos Invictad believed that all that Tehol had stolen would be retrieved. Even so, better a period of inflation than the chaos now plaguing Lether.



But Hannan Mosag told him otherwise, had indeed fashioned rituals permitting Rhulad to see for himself-the riots, the madness, scenes blurred, at times maddeningly faded, yet still they stank of the truth. Where the Ceda lied was in what he would not reveal.



‘What of the invasion, Ceda? Show me these Malazans.’



‘I cannot, alas, Emperor. They protect themselves with strange magics. See, the water in the bowl grows cloudy when I quest their way. As if they could cast in handfuls of flour. Blinding all the water might reveal.’



Lies. Triban Gnol had been more blunt in his assessment-a directness that unveiled the Chancellor’s growing concern, perhaps even his fear. The Malazans who had landed on the west coast, who had begun their march inland-towards Letheras itself-were proving themselves both cunning and deadly. To clash with them was to reel back bloodied and battered, a retreat strewn with dead soldiers and dead Tiste Edur. Yes, they were coming for Rhulad. Could the Chancellor stop them?



‘Yes, Emperor. We can. We shall. Hanradi has divided his Edur forces. One waits with our main army just west of the city. The other has travelled fast and light northward and is even now swinging westward, like a sweeping arm, to appear behind these Malazans-but not as has been attempted before. No, your Edur do not ride in column, do not travel the roads now. They fight as they once did, during the unification wars. War’parties, moving silent in the shadows, matching the Malazans and perhaps going one better in their stealth-’



Yes.’ We adapt, not into something new, but into something old-the very heart of our prowess. Whose idea was this? Tell me!’



A bow from Triban Gnol. ‘Sire, did you not place me in charge of this defence?’



‘Then, you.’



Another bow. ‘As I said, Emperor, the guiding hand was yours.’



To be so unctuous was to reveal contempt. Rhulad understood that much. The Ceda lacked such civilized nuances in his reply: ‘The idea was mine and Hanradi’s, Emperor. After all, I was the Warlock King and he was my deadliest rival. This can be remade into a war we Edur under’ stand and know well. It is clear enough that attempting to fight these Malazans in the manner of the Letherii has failed-’



‘But there will be a clash, a great battle.’



‘It seems so.’



‘Good.’



‘Perhaps not. Hanradi believes…’



And there the dissembling had begun, the half-truths, the poorly veiled attacks upon the Chancellor and his new role as military commander.



To fashion knowledge to match the reality was difficult, to sift through the lies, to shake free the truths-Rhulad was exhausted by it, yet what else could he do? He was learning, damn them all. He was learning.



‘Tell me, Ceda, of the Bolkando invasion.’



‘Our border forts have been overrun. There have been two battles and in both the Letherii divisions were forced to withdraw, badly wounded. That alliance among the eastern kingdoms is now real, and it appears that they have hired mercenary armies…’



The Bolkando Conspiracy… now real. Meaning it had begun as a lie. He recalled Triban Gnol’s shocked expression when Rhulad had repeated Hannan Mosag’s words-as if they were his own. ‘That alliance among the eastern kingdoms is now real, Chancellor…’.



Triban Gnol’s mask had cracked then-no illusion there, no game brought to a yet deeper level. The man had looked… guilty.



We must win these wars. To the west and to the east. We must, as well, refashion this empire. The days of the Indebted will be gone. The days of the coins ruling this body are oyer. 1, Rhulad, Emperor, shall set my hands upon this clay, and make of it something new.



So, let the plague of suicides among the once-rich continue. Let the great merchant houses crash down into ruin. Let the poor rend the nobles limb from limb. Let estates bum. When the ashes have settled, have cooled, then shall Rhulad find fertile ground for his new empire.



Yes, that is what is different, this time. 1 sense a rebirth. Close. Imminent. I sense it, and maybe it will be enough, maybe it will give me reason again to cherish this life. My life.



Oh, Father Shadow, guide me now.