A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

in a dull voice.
    'Yes, mistress, I have,' he replied, settling a hand on the leather pack slung from his left shoulder.
    'Good. We will waste no time in this. You are to dress the body. No other.'
    'Yes, mistress. The coals have been fired.'
    'You are a diligent slave, Udinaas,' she said. 'I am pleased you are in my household.'
    He barely resisted looking at her at that, confused and alarmed as he was by the admission. And had you found the Wyval blood within me, you would have snapped my neck with' out a second thought. 'Thank you, mistress.'
    'He died a blooded warrior,' Tomad said. 'I see it in Fear's pride.'
    The Warlock King and his five apprentice sorcerors strode to intercept the party as they arrived on this side of the bridge, and Udinaas heard Uruth's gasp of outrage.
    Tomad reached out to still her with one hand. 'There must be a reason for this,' he said. 'Come, we will join them.'
    There was no command to remain behind, and so Udinaas and the other slaves followed Tomad and Uruth as they strode towards their sons.
    Hannan Mosag and his K'risnan met the procession first. Quiet words were exchanged between the Warlock King and Fear Sengar. A question, an answer, and Hannan Mosag seemed to stagger. As one, the five sorcerors closed on him, but their eyes were on Rhulad's swathed form, and Udinaas saw a mixture of consternation, dread and alarm on their young faces.
    Fear's gaze swung from the Warlock King to his father as Tomad's group arrived. 'I have failed you, Father,' he said. 'Your youngest son is dead.'
    'He holds the gift,' Hannan Mosag snapped, shockingly accusatory in his tone. 'I need it, but he holds it. Was I not clear enough in my instructions, Fear Sengar?'
    The warrior's face darkened. 'We were attacked, Warlock King, by the Jheck. I believe you know who and what they are—'
    Tomad growled, 'I do not.'
    Binadas spoke. 'They are Soletaken, Father. Able to assume the guise of wolves. It was their intention to claim the sword—'
    'What sword?' Uruth asked. 'What—'
    'Enough of this!' Hannan Mosag shouted.
    'Warlock King,' Tomad Sengar said, stepping closer, 'Rhulad is dead. You can retrieve this gift of yours—'
    'It is not so simple,' Fear cut in. 'Rhulad holds the sword still – I cannot pry his fingers from the grip.' .
    'It must be cut off,' Hannan Mosag said.
    Uruth hissed, then shook her head. 'No, Warlock King. You are forbidden to mutilate our son. Fear, did Rhulad die as a blooded warrior?'
    'He did.'
    'Then the prohibitions are all the greater,' she said to Hannan Mosag, crossing her arms.
    'I need that sword!'
    In the fraught silence that followed that outburst, Trull Sengar spoke for the first time. 'Warlock King. Rhulad's body is still frozen. It may be, upon thawing, that his grip on the sword loosens. In any case, it seems clear the matter demands calm, reasoned discussion. It may in the end prove that our conflicting desires can be resolved by some form of compromise.' He faced his father and mother. 'It was our task, given us by the Warlock King, to retrieve a gift, and that gift is the sword Rhulad now holds. Mother, we must complete the task demanded of us. The sword must be placed in Hannan Mosag's hands.'
    There was shock and horror in her voice as Uruth replied, 'You would cut off your dead brother's hands? Are you my son? I would—'
    Her husband stopped her with a fierce gesture. 'Trull, I understand the difficulty of this situation, and I concur with your counsel that decisions be withheld for the time being. Warlock King, Rhulad's body must be prepared. This can be conducted without attention being accorded the hands. We have some time, then, do you agree?'
    Hannan Mosag answered with a curt nod.
    Trull approached Udinaas, and the slave could see the warrior's exhaustion, the old blood of countless wounds in his tattered armour. 'Take charge of the body,' he said in a quiet tone. 'To the House of the Dead, as you would any other. Do not, however, expect the widows to attend the ritual – we must needs postpone that until certain matters are resolved.'
    'Yes, master,' Udinaas replied. He swung round and selected Hulad and one more of his fellow slaves. 'Help me with the sled's tethers. With solemn accord, as always.'
    Both men he addressed were clearly frightened. This kind of open conflict among the Hiroth Edur was unprecedented. They seemed on the verge of panic, although Udinaas's words calmed them somewhat. There were values in ritual, and self-control was