A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

spirits.
    Wither had somehow avoided the summons, announcing its victory with a melodramatic chuckle rolling through the slave's head, and the wraith's presence now danced with exaggerated glee in the Letherii's mind. Witness to all through his eyes.
    'Emperor,' Hannan Mosag said as soon as Rhulad had visibly regained himself, 'the warlocks among the Arapay—'
    'Yes. They are not to resist. They are to give welcome.'
    'And the Nerek you have claimed from the merchant?'
    'A different consideration.' Momentary unease in Rhulad's dark eyes. 'They are not to be disturbed. They are to be respected.'
    'Their hearth and the surrounding area has seen sanctification,' Hannan Mosag said, nodding. 'Of course that must be respected. But I have sensed little power from that blessing.'
    'Do not let that deceive you. The spirits they worship are the oldest this world has known. Those spirits do not manifest in ways we might easily recognize.'
    'Ah. Emperor, you have been gifted with knowledge I do not possess.'
    'Yes, Hannan Mosag, I have. We must exercise all caution with the Nerek. I have no desire to see the rising of those spirits.'
    The once-Warlock King was frowning. 'The Letherii sorcerors had little difficulty negating – even eradicating – the power of those spirits. Else the Nerek would not have crumbled so quickly.'
    'The weakness the Letherii exploited was found in the mortal Nerek, not in the spirits they worshipped. It is our belief now, Hannan Mosag, that the Eres'al was not truly awakened. She did not rise to defend those who worshipped her.'
    'Yet something has changed.'
    Rhulad nodded. 'Something has.' He glanced up at Mayen. 'Begun with the blessing of the Edur woman who is now my wife.'
    She flinched and would meet neither Rhulad's nor Hannan Mosag's eyes.
    The emperor shrugged. 'It is done. Need we be concerned? No. Not yet. Perhaps never. None the less, we had best remain cautious.'
    Udinaas resisted the impulse to laugh. Caution, born of fear. It was pleasing to know that the emperor of the Tiste Edur could still be afflicted with that emotion. Then again, perhaps I have read Rhulad wrongly. Perhaps fear is at the core of the monster he has become. Did it matter? Only if Udinaas endeavoured to entertain the game of prediction.
    Was it worth the effort?
    'The Den-Ratha are west of Breed Bay,' Hannan Mosag said. 'The Merude can see the smoke of their villages.'
    'How many are coming by sea?'
    'About eight thousand. Every ship. Most of them are warriors, of course. The rest travel overland and the first groups have already reached the Sollanta border.'
    'Supplies?' the emperor asked.
    'Sufficient for the journey.'
    'And nothing is being left behind?'
    'Naught but ashes, sire.'
    'Good.'
    Udinaas watched Hannan Mosag hesitate, then say, 'It is already begun. There is no going back now.'
    'You have no reason to fret,' Rhulad replied. 'I have already sent wraiths to the borderlands. They watch. Soon, they will cross over, into Lether.'
    'The Ceda's frontier sorcerors will find them.'
    'Eventually, but the wraiths will not engage. Merely flee. I have no wish to show their power yet. I mean to encourage overconfidence.'
    The two Edur continued discussing strategies. Udinaas listened, just one more wraith in the gloom.
    Trull Sengar watched his father rebuilding, with meticulous determination, a kind of faith. Stringing together words spoken aloud yet clearly meant for himself, whilst his wife looked on with the face of an old, broken woman. Death had arrived, only to be shattered by a ghastly reprise, a revivification that offered nothing worth rejoicing in. A king had been cast down, an emperor risen in his place. The world was knocked askew, and Trull found himself detached, numb, witness to these painful, tortured scenes in which the innumerable facets of reconciliation were being attempted, resulting in exhausted silences in which tensions slowly returned, whispering of failure.
    They had one and all knelt before their new emperor. Brother and son, the kin who had died and now sat bedecked in gold coins. A voice ravaged yet recognizable. Eyes that belonged to one they had all once known, yet now looked out fevered with power and glazed with the unhealed wounds of horror.
    Fear had given up his betrothed.
    A terrible thing to have done.
    Rhulad had demanded her. And that was ... obscene.
    Trull had never felt so helpless as he did now. He pulled his gaze from his father and looked over to where Binadas stood in