A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

an
audience with you—'
    'Triban Gnol cannot deny such things! He is a Letherii!
Where are my Edur? Why do I never see them? And now
Tomad has returned, and Hanradi Khalag! None of them
will speak to me!'
    'Highness, Tomad waits in the outer chamber—'
    'He knew I would deny him. You are confusing me,
whore. I don't need you – I don't need anyone! I just need
time. To think. That is all. They're all frightened of me,
and with good reason, oh yes. Traitors are always
frightened, and when their schemes are discovered, oh how
they plead for their lives! Perhaps I should kill everyone –
a sea of corpses, then there would be peace. And that is all
I want. Peace. Tell me, are the people happy, Nisall?'
    She bowed her head. 'I do not know, Highness.'
    'Are you? Are you happy with me?'
    'I feel naught but love for you, Emperor. My heart is
yours.'
    'The same words you spoke to Diskanar, no doubt. And
all the other men you've bedded. Have your slaves draw a
bath – you stink of sweat, woman. Then await me beneath
silks.' He raised his voice. 'Call the Chancellor! We wish to
speak to him immediately! Go, Nisall, your Letherii stink
makes me ill.'
    As she backed away Rhulad raised his free hand. 'My
dearest, the golden silks – you are like a pearl among those.
The sweetest pearl . . .'
    Bruthen Trana waited in the corridor until Tomad Sengar,
denied audience with the Emperor, departed the Citizens'
Chamber. Stepping into the elder's path he bowed and said,
'I greet you, Tomad Sengar.'
    Distracted, the older Tiste Edur frowned at him. 'Den-
Ratha. What do you wish from me?'
    'A word or two, no more than that. I am Bruthen
Trana—'
    'One of Rhulad's sycophants.'
    'Alas, no. I was appointed early in the regime to oversee
the Letherii security organization known as the Patriotists.
As part of my responsibilities, I was to report to the
Emperor in person each week. As of yet, I have not once
addressed him. The Chancellor has interposed himself and
turns me away each and every time.'
    'My youngest son suckles at Gnol's tit,' Tomad Sengar
said in a low, bitter voice.
    'It is my belief,' Bruthen Trana said, 'that the Emperor
himself is not entirely aware of the extent of the barriers
the Chancellor and his agents have raised around him,
Elder Sengar. Although I have sought to penetrate them, I
have failed thus far.'
    'Then why turn to me, Den-Ratha? I am even less able to
reach through to my son.'
    'It is the Tiste Edur who are being isolated from their
Emperor,' Bruthen said. 'Not just you and I. All of us.'
    'Hannan Mosag—'
    'Is reviled, for it is well understood that the Warlock
King is responsible for all of this. His ambition, his pact
with an evil god. He sought the sword for himself, did he
not?'
    'Then Rhulad is truly alone?'
    Bruthen Trana nodded, then added, 'There is a possibility
. . . there is one person. The Letherii woman who is
his First Concubine—'
    'A Letherii?' Tomad snarled. 'You must be mad. She is an
agent for Gnol, a spy. She has corrupted Rhulad – how else
could she remain as First Concubine? My son would never
have taken her, unless she had some nefarious hold over
him.' The snarl twisted the elder's features. 'You are being
used, warrior. You and I shall not speak again.'
    Tomad Sengar pushed him to one side and marched
down the corridor. Bruthen Trana turned to watch him go.
    Drawing out a crimson silk cloth, Karos Invictad daubed at
the sweat on his brow, his eyes fixed on the strange two-headed
insect as it circled in place, round and round and
round in its box cage. 'Not a single arrangement of tiles will
halt this confounded, brainless creature. I begin to believe
this is a hoax.'
    'Were it me, sir,' Tanal Yathvanar said, 'I would have
crushed the whole contraption under heel long ago. Indeed
it must be a hoax – the proof is that you have not defeated
it yet.'
    The Invigilator's gaze lifted, regarded Tanal. 'I do not
know which is the more disgusting, you acknowledging
defeat by an insect, or your pathetic attempts at flattery.'
He set the cloth down on the table and leaned back. 'The
studied pursuit of solutions requires patience, and, more, a
certain cast of intellect. This is why you will never achieve
more than you have, Tanal Yathvanar. You totter at the
very edge of your competence – ah, no need for the blood
to so rush to your face, it is what you are that I find so useful
to me. Furthermore, you display uncommon wisdom in
restraining your ambition, so that you make no effort