A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

an
apparition, his black cloak glistening like snakeskin.
Swords sheathed once more, muting their cries – iron
voices reluctant to fade, they would persist for days, now.
    How she hated that sound.
    Tanal Yathvanar stood looking down at the naked woman
on his bed. The questioners had worked hard on her, seeking
the answers they wanted. She was badly broken, her skin
cut and burned, her joints swollen and mottled with bruises.
She had been barely conscious when he'd used her last
night. This was easier than whores, and cost him nothing
besides. He wasn't much interested in beating his women,
just in seeing them beaten. He understood his desire was
perversion, but this organization – the Patriotists – was the
perfect haven for people like him. Power and immunity, a
most deadly combination. He suspected that Karos Invictad
was well aware of Tanal's nightly escapades, and held that
knowledge like a sheathed knife.
    It's not as if I've killed her. It's not as if she'll even remember this. She's destined for the Drownings in any case – what matter if I take some pleasure first? Soldiers do the same . He had
dreamed of being a soldier once, years ago, when in his
youth he had held to misguided, romantic notions of
heroism and unconstrained freedom, as if the first justified
the second. There had been many noble killers in the
history of Lether. Gerun Eberict had been such a man. He'd
murdered thousands – thieves, thugs and wastrels, the
depraved and the destitute. He had cleansed the streets of
Letheras, and who had not indulged in the rewards? Fewer
beggars, fewer pickpockets, fewer homeless and all the other
decrepit failures of the modern age. Tanal admired Gerun
Eberict – he had been a great man. Murdered by a thug, his
skull crushed to pulp – a tragic loss, senseless and cruel.
    One day we shall find that killer.
    He turned away from the unconscious woman, adjusted
his light tunic so that the shoulder seams were even and
straight, then closed the clasps of his weapon belt. One of
the Invigilator's requirements for all officers of the
Patriotists: belt, dagger and shortsword. Tanal liked the
weight of them, the authority implicit in the privilege of
wearing arms where all other Letherii – barring soldiers –
were forbidden by proclamation of the Emperor.
    As if we might rebel. The damned fool thinks he won that war. They all do. Dimwitted barbarians.
    Tanal Yathvanar walked to the door, stepped out into the
corridor, and made his way towards the Invigilator's office.
The second bell after midday sounded a moment before he
knocked on the door. A murmured invitation bade him
enter.
    He found Rautos Hivanar, Master of the Liberty Consign,
already seated opposite Karos Invictad. The large man
seemed to fill half the room, and Tanal noted that the
Invigilator had pushed his own chair as far back as possible,
so that it was tilted against the sill of the window. In this
space on his side of the desk, Karos attempted a posture of
affable comfort.
    'Tanal, our guest is being most insistent with respect to
his suspicions. Sufficient to convince me that we must
devote considerable attention to finding the source of the
threat.'
    'Invigilator, is the intent sedition or treason, or are we
dealing with a thief?'
    'A thief, I should think,' Karos replied, glancing over at
Rautos Hivanar.
    The man's cheeks bulged, before he released a slow sigh.
'I am not so sure. On the surface, we appear to be facing an
obsessive individual, consumed by greed and, accordingly,
hoarding wealth. But only as actual coin, and this is why it
is proving so difficult to find a trail. No properties, no
ostentation, no flouting of privilege. Now, as subtle
consequence, the shortage of coin is finally noticeable.
True, no actual damage to the empire's financial structure
has occurred. Yet. But, if the depletion continues,' he shook
his head, 'we will begin to feel the strain.'
    Tanal cleared his throat, then asked, 'Master, have you
assigned agents of your own to investigate the situation?'
    Rautos frowned. 'The Liberty Consign thrives precisely
because its members hold to the conviction of being the
most powerful players in an unassailable system. Confidence
is a most fragile quality, Tanal Yathvanar. Granted, a few
who deal specifically in finances have brought to me their
concerns. Druz Thennict, Barrakta Ilk, for example. But
there is nothing as yet formalized – no true suspicion that
something is awry. Neither man is a fool, however.'