A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

son of
Tomad. Without the sword, brother, I am nothing.'
    Trull cocked his head. 'You have led us to conquest. I will
stand beside you. So will Binadas, and our father. You have
won that throne, Rhulad – you need not fear Hannan
Mosag—'
    'That miserable worm? You think me frightened of him?'
The sword-tip made a snapping sound as its point jumped
free of the tiles. Rhulad aimed the weapon at Trull's chest.
'I am the Emperor !'
    'No, you're not,' Trull replied. 'Your sword is Emperor –
your sword and the power behind it.'
    'Liar!' Rhulad shrieked.
    Nisall saw Trull flinch back, then steady himself. 'Prove it.'
    The Emperor's eyes widened.
    'Shatter the sword – Sister's blessing, just let it fall from
your hand. Even that, Rhulad. Just that. Let it fall!'
    'No! I know what you want, brother! You will take it – I
see you tensed, ready to dive for it – I see the truth!' The
weapon was shuddering between them, as if eager for blood,
anyone's blood.
    Trull shook his head. 'I want it shattered, Rhulad.'
    'You cannot stand at my side,' the Emperor hissed. 'Too
close – there is betrayal in your eyes – you left me! Crippled
on the floor!' He raised his voice. 'Where are my warriors?
Into the chamber! Your Emperor commands it!'
    A half-dozen Edur warriors suddenly appeared, weapons
out.
    'Trull,' Rhulad whispered. 'I see you have no sword. Now
it is for you to drop your favoured weapon, your spear. And
your knives. What? Do you fear I will slay you? Show me
the trust you claim in yourself. Guide me with your honour, brother .'
    She did not know it then; she did not understand
enough of the Edur way of life, but she saw something in
Trull's face, a kind of surrender, but a surrender that was far
more complicated, fraught, than simply disarming himself
there before his brother. Levels of resignation, settling one
upon another, the descent of impossible burdens – and the
knowledge shared between the two brothers, of what such
a surrender signified. She did not realize at the time what
Trull's answer would mean, the way it was done, not in his
own name, not for himself, but for Fear. Fear Sengar, more
than anyone else. She did not realize, then, the immensity
of his sacrifice, as he unslung his spear and let it clatter to
the tiles; as he removed his knife belt and threw it to one
side.
    There should have been triumph in Rhulad's tortured
eyes, then, but there wasn't. Instead, a kind of confusion
clouded his gaze, made him shy away, as if seeking help. His
attention found and focused upon the six warriors, and he
gestured with the sword and said in a broken voice, 'Trull
Sengar is to be Shorn. He will cease to exist, for ourself, for
all Edur. Take him. Bind him. Take him away.'
    Neither had she realized what that judgement, that decision,
had cost Rhulad himself.
    Free to choose, she had chosen to remain, for reasons she
could not elucidate even in her own mind. Was there pity?
Perhaps. Ambition, without question – for she had sensed,
in that predatory manner demanded of life in the court,
that there was a way through to him, a way to replace –
without all the attendant history – those who were no
longer at Rhulad's side. Not one of his warrior sycophants
– they were worthless, ultimately, and she knew that
Rhulad was well aware of that truth. In the end, she could
see, he had no-one. Not his brother, Binadas, who, like
Trull, proved too close and thus too dangerous for the
Emperor to keep around – and so he had sent him away,
seeking champions and scattered kin of the Edur tribes. As
for his father, Tomad, again the suborning role proved far
too awkward to accommodate. Of the surviving K'risnan of
Hannan Mosag, fully half had been sent to accompany
Tomad and Binadas, so as to keep the new Ceda weak.
    And all the while, as these decisions were made, as the
Shorning was conducted, in secrecy, away from Letherii
eyes, and as Nisall manoeuvred herself into the Emperor's
bed, the Chancellor, Triban Gnol, had watched on, with
the hooded eyes of a raptor.
    The consort, Turudal Brizad, had vanished, although
Nisall had heard rumours among the court servants that he
had not gone far; that he haunted the lesser travelled
corridors and subterranean mysteries of the old palace,
ghostly and rarely more than half seen. She was undecided
on the veracity of such claims; even so, if he were indeed
hiding still in the palace, she realized that such a thing
would not surprise her in the least. It did not matter