A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

send their ships well beyond sight of the coastline, then attack your homeland. The villages here, which they will burn to the ground. And every Tiste Edur they find here, old or young, will be butchered.'
    Rhulad grunted, then said, 'They think we are fools.'
    'The Letherii military is malleable, Emperor. Its soldiers are trained to quick adaptation, should the circumstances warrant it. A formidable, deadly force, exquisitely trained and, employing the raised roads constructed exclusively for it, frighteningly mobile. Worse, they have numerical superiority—'
    'Hardly,' Rhulad cut in, smiling. 'The Edur possess new allies, Hull Beddict, as you shall soon discover. Very well, we are satisfied, and we conclude that you shall prove useful to us. Go now to our father's house, and make greeting with Binadas, who will be pleased to see you.'
    The Letherii bowed and strode from the chamber.
    'Hannan Mosag,' Rhulad called in a low voice.
    A side curtain was drawn aside and Udinaas watched the once-Warlock King enter.
    'It would seem,' Rhulad said, 'your studies of the Letherii military have yielded you an accurate assessment. His description of their tactics and strategies matches yours exactly.'
    'How soon, Emperor?'
    'Are the tribes readying themselves?'
    'With alacrity.'
    'Then very soon indeed. Tell us your thoughts on Nifadas and the prince.'
    'Nifadas understood quickly that all was lost, but the prince sees that loss as a victory. At the same time, both remain confident in their kingdom's military prowess. Nifadas mourns for us, Emperor.'
    'Poor man. Perhaps he has earned our mercy for that misguided sentiment.'
    'Given the course you have chosen for our people, Emperor, mercy is a notion dangerous to entertain. You can be certain that none will be accorded us.'
    Another spasm afflicted Rhulad, such as the one Udinaas had witnessed earlier. He thought he understood its source. A thousand bindings held together Rhulad's sanity, but madness was assailing that sanity, and the defences were buckling. Not long ago, no more than the youngest son of a noble family, strutting the village but not yet blooded. In his mind, panoramic visions of glory swinging in a slow turn round the place where he stood. The visions of a youth, crowded with imagined scenarios wherein Rhulad could freely exercise his own certainty, and so prove the righteousness of his will.
    And now that boy sat on the Edur throne.
    He just had to die to get there.
    The sudden manifestation of glory still fed him, enough to shape his words and thoughts and feed his imperial comportment, as if the royal 'we' was something to which he had been born. But this was at the barest edge of control. An imperfect façade, bolstered by elaborately constructed speech patterns, a kind of awkward articulation that suited Rhulad's childlike notions of how an emperor should speak. These were games of persuasion, as much to himself as to his audience.
    But, Udinaas was certain, other thoughts remained in Rhulad's mind, gnawing at the roots and crawling like pallid worms through his necrotic soul. For all the glittering gold, the flesh beneath was twisted and scarred. To fashion the façade, all that lay beneath it had been malformed.
    The slave registered all this in the span of Rhulad's momentary spasm, and was unmoved. His gaze drifted to Mayen, but she gave nothing away, not even an awareness of her husband's sudden extremity.
    Across Hannan Mosag's face, however, Udinaas saw a flash of fear, quickly buried beneath a bland regard.
    A moment's consideration and Udinaas thought he understood that reaction. Hannan Mosag needed his emperor to be sane and in control. Even power unveiled could not have forced him to kneel before a madman. Probably, the once-Warlock King also comprehended that a struggle was under way within Rhulad, and had resolved to give what aid he could to the emperor's rational side.
    And should the battle be lost, should Rhulad descend completely into insanity, what would Hannan Mosag do then?
    The Letherii slave's eyes shifted to the sword the emperor held like a sceptre in his right hand, the point anchored on the dais near the throne's ornate foot. The answer hides in that sword, and Hannan Mosag knows far more about that weapon – and its maker – than he has revealed.
    Then again, I do as well. Wither, the shadow wraith that had adopted Udinaas, had whispered some truths. The sword's power had given Rhulad command of the wraiths. The Tiste Andii