A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

that bitch up!'
    The slave started at the emperor's hoarse shout.
    The weeping had grown louder, probably in answer to Mayen's audible panting.
    Udinaas pushed himself forward, across the rugs to where Feather Witch crouched in the gloom.
    'Get her out of here! Both of you, get out!'
    She did not resist as he lifted her to her feet. Udinaas leaned close. 'Listen, Feather Witch,' he said under his breath. 'What did you expect?'
    Her head snapped up and he saw hatred in her eyes. 'From you,' she said in a snarl, 'nothing.'
    'From her. Don't answer – we must leave.'
    He guided her to the side door, then through into the servants' corridor beyond. He closed the door behind them, then pulled her another half-dozen steps down the passage. 'There's no cause for crying,' Udinaas said. 'Mayen is trapped, just like us, Feather Witch. It is not for you to grieve that she has sought and found pleasure.'
    'I know what you're getting at, Indebted,' she said, twisting her arm out of his grip. 'Is that what you want? My surrender? My finding pleasure when you make use of me?'
    'I am as you say, Feather Witch. Indebted. What I want? My wants mean nothing. They have fallen silent in my mind. You think I still pursue you? I still yearn for your love?' He shook his head as he studied her face. 'You were right. What is the point?'
    'I want nothing to do with you, Udinaas.'
    'Yes, I know. But you are Mayen's handmaiden. And I, it appears, am to be Rhulad's own slave. Emperor and empress. That is the reality we must face. You and I, we are a conceit. Or we were. Not any more, as far as I am concerned.'
    'Good. Then we need only deal with each other as necessity demands.'
    He nodded.
    Her eyes narrowed. 'I do not trust you.'
    'I do not care.'
    Uncertainty. Unease. 'What game are you playing at, Udinaas? Who speaks through your mouth?' She stepped back. 'I should tell her. About what hides within you.'
    'If you do that, Feather Witch, you will destroy your only chance.'
    'My only chance? What chance?'
    'Freedom.'
    Her face twisted. 'And with that you would purchase my silence? You are foolish, Indebted. I was born a slave. I have none of your memories to haunt me—'
    'My memories? Feather Witch, my memory of freedom is as an Indebted trapped in a kingdom where even death offers no absolution. My memory is my father's memory, and would have been my children's memory. But you misunderstood. I did not speak of my freedom. I spoke only of yours. Not something to be recaptured, but found anew.'
    'And how do you plan on freeing me, Udinaas?'
    'We are going to war, Feather Witch. The Tiste Edur will wage war against Lether.'
    She scowled. 'What of it? There have been wars before—'
    'Not like this one. Rhulad isn't interested in raids. This will be a war of conquest.'
    'Conquer Lether? They will fail—'
    'Yes, they might. The point is, when the Edur march south, we will be going with them.'
    'Why are you so certain of all this? This war? This conquest?'
    'Because the Emperor has summoned the shadow wraiths. All of them.'
    'You cannot know such a thing.'
    He said nothing.
    'You cannot,' Feather Witch insisted.
    Then she spun round and hurried down the passage.
    Udinaas returned to the door. To await the summons he knew would come, eventually.
    Emperor and slave. A score of paces, a thousand leagues. In the span of intractable command and obedience, the mind did not count distance. For the path was well worn, as it always had been and as it would ever be.
    The wraiths gathered, in desultory legions, in the surrounding forest, among them massive demons bound in chains that formed a most poignant armour. Creatures heaving up from the sea to hold the four hundred or more K'orthan raider ships now being readied, eager to carry them south. Among the tribes, in every village, the sorcerors awakening to the new emperor's demand.
    A summons to war.
    Across a worn rug.
    Heroes triumphant.
    From beyond the wooden portal came Mayen's cry.
    He emerged from the forest, his face pallid, his expression haunted, and halted in surprise at seeing the readied wagons, Buruk swearing at the Nerek as they scurried about. Seren Pedac had completed donning her leather armour and was strapping on her sword-belt.
    She watched him approach.
    'Dire events, Hull Beddict.'
    'You are leaving?'
    'Buruk has so commanded.'
    'What of the iron he sought to sell?'
    'It goes back with us.' She looked about, then said, 'Come, walk with me. I need to speak one last time with the First