A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

darkness the night of the vigil. Unwelcome of aspect, intruders upon our holy sites – the wraiths fled at their approach.'
    'This is the first I have heard of such things,' Tomad said.
    Uruth reached for her wine cup and held it out to be refilled by a slave. 'They are known none the less, husband. Hannan Mosag and his K'risnan have stirred deep shadows. The tide of change rises – and soon, I fear, it will sweep us away.'
    'But it is we who are rising on that tide,' Tomad said, his face darkening. 'It is one thing to question defeat, but now you question victory, wife.'
    'I speak only of the Great Meeting to come. Did not our own sons tell of the summoning from the depths that stole the souls of the Letherii seal-hunters? When those ships sail into the harbour at Trate, how think you the Letherii will react? We have begun the dance of war.'
    'If that were so,' Tomad retorted, 'then there would be little point to treat with them.'
    'Except,' Trull cut in, recalling his father's own words when he first returned from the Calach beds, 'to take their measure.'
    'It was taken long ago,' Fear said. 'The Letherii will seek to do to us as they have done to the Nerek and the Tarthenal. Most among them see no error or moral flaw in their past deeds. Those who do are unable or unwilling to question the methods, only the execution, and so they are doomed to repeat the horrors, and see the result – no matter its nature – as yet one more test of firmly held principles. And even should the blood run in a river around them, they will obsess on the details. One cannot challenge the fundamental beliefs of such people, for they will not hear you.'
    'Then there will be war,' Trull whispered.
    'There is always war, brother,' Fear replied. 'Faiths, words and swords: history resounds with their interminable clash.'
    'That, and the breaking of bones,' Rhulad said, with the smile of a man with a secret.
    Foolish conceit, for Tomad could not miss it and he leaned forward. 'Rhulad Sengar, you speak like a blind elder with a sack full of wraiths. I am tempted to drag you across this table and choke the gloat from your face.'
    Trull felt sweat prickle beneath his clothes. He saw the blood leave his brother's face. Oh, Father, you deliver a wound deeper than you could ever have imagined. He glanced over at Mayen and was startled to see something avid in her eyes, a malice, a barely constrained delight.
    'I am not so young, Father,' Rhulad said in a rasp, 'nor you so old, to let such words pass—'
    Tomad's fist thumped the tabletop, sending cups and plates clattering. 'Then speak like a man, Rhulad! Tell us all this dread knowledge that coils your every strut and has for the past week! Or do you seek to part tender thighs with your womanish ways? Do you imagine you are the first young warrior who seeks to walk in step with women? Sympathy, son, is a poor path to lust—'
    Rhulad was on his feet, his face twisting with rage. 'And which bitch would you have me bed, Father? To whom am I promised? And in whose name? You have leashed me here in this village and then you mock when I strain.' He glared at the others, fixing at last on Trull. 'When the war begins, Hannan Mosag will announce a sacrifice. He must. A throat will be opened to spill down the bow of the lead ship. He will choose me, won't he?'
    'Rhulad,' Trull said, 'I have heard no such thing—'
    'He will! I am to bed three daughters! Sheltatha Lore, Sukul Ankhadu and Menandore!'
    A plate skittered out from the hands of a slave and cracked onto the tabletop, spilling the shellfish it held. As the slave reached forward to contain the accident, Uruth's hands snapped out and grasped the Letherii by the wrists. A savage twist to reveal the palms.
    The skin had been torn from them, raw, red, glittering wet and cracked.
    'What is this, Udinaas?' Uruth demanded. She rose and yanked him close.
    'I fell—' the Letherii gasped.
    'To weep your wounds onto our food? Have you lost your mind?'
    'Mistress!' another slave ventured, edging forward. 'I saw him come in earlier – he bore no such wounds then, I swear it!'
    'He is the one who fought the Wyval!' another cried, backing away in sudden terror.
    'Udinaas is possessed!' the other slave shrieked.
    'Quiet!' Uruth set a hand against Udinaas's forehead and pushed back hard. He grunted in pain.
    Sorcery swirled out to surround the slave. He spasmed, then went limp, collapsing at Uruth's feet.
    'There is nothing within him,' she said, withdrawing a