Dust of Dreams

pouring water into a goblet, which he then held at the ready.
    Ublala Pung stood before the throne. He swung round at Brys’s approach, revealing an expression of profound distress. ‘Preda! Thank the spirits you’re here! Now you can arrest and execute me!’
    ‘Ublala, why would I do that?’
    ‘Look, I have killed the King!’
    But Tehol was finally recovering, sufficiently to take the goblet Bugg proffered. He drank down a mouthful, gasped, and then sat back on the throne. In a rasp he said, ‘It’s all right, Ublala, you’ve not killed me . . . yet. But that was a close one.’
    The Tarthenal whimpered and Brys could see that the huge man was moments from running away.
    ‘The King exaggerates,’ said Janath. ‘Be at ease, Ublala Pung. Welcome, Brys, I was wondering where you’d got to, since I could have sworn you were on my heels only a few moments ago.’
    ‘What have I missed?’
    Bugg said, ‘Ublala Pung was just informing us of, among other things, something he had forgotten. A matter most, well, extraordinary. Relating to the Toblakai warrior, Karsa Orlong.’
    ‘The slayer of Rhulad Sengar has returned?’
    ‘No, we are blessedly spared that, Brys.’ And then Bugg hesitated.
    ‘It turns out,’ explained Janath—as Tehol quickly drank down a few more mouthfuls of water—‘that Karsa Orlong set a charge upon Ublala Pung, one that he had until today entirely forgotten, distracted as he has been of late by the abuses heaped upon him by his fellow guards.’
    ‘I’m sorry—what abuses?’
    Tehol finally spoke. ‘We can get to that later. The matter may no longer be relevant, in any case, since it seems Ublala must leave us soon.’
    Brys squinted at the abject Tarthenal. ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘To the islands, Preda.’
    ‘The islands?’
    Ublala nodded solemnly. ‘I must gather all the Tarthenal and make an army. And then we have to go to find Karsa Orlong.’
    ‘An army? Why would Karsa Orlong want an army of Tarthenal?’
    ‘To destroy the world!’
    ‘Of course,’ interjected Bugg, ‘by my last census there are fourteen hundred and fifty-one Tarthenal now settled on the islands. One half of them not yet adults—under seventy years of age by Tarthenal reckoning. Ublala’s potential “army” will amount to around five hundred adults of reasonable maturity and dubious martial prowess.’
    ‘To destroy the world!’ Ublala shouted again. ‘I need a boat! A big one!’
    ‘These sound like heady matters,’ Brys said after a moment, ‘which require more discussion. For the moment—forgive me, Ublala—we are soon to entertain the Malazan high command. Should we not begin discussing that impending meeting?’
    ‘What’s to discuss?’ Tehol asked. He scowled suddenly down at his cup. ‘Gods below, I’ve been drinking
water
! Bugg, are you trying to poison me or something? Wine, man, wine! Oops, sorry, Brys, that was insensitive of me. Beer, man, beer!’
    ‘The Malazans will probably petition us,’ Brys said. ‘For some unfathomable reason, they intend to march into the Wastelands. They will seek to purchase writs of passage—which will involve diplomatic efforts on our part—as well as sufficient supplies to satisfy their troops. King Tehol, I admit to having little confidence with respect to those writs of passage—we all know the inherent duplicity of the Bolkando and the Saphii—’
    ‘You want to provide the Malazans with an escort,’ said Janath.
    ‘A big one!’ shouted Ublala, as if unaware that the conversation in the throne room had moved on. ‘I want Captain Shurq Elalle. Because she’s friendly and she likes sex. Oh, and I need money for food and chickens, too, and boot polish to make my army. Can I get all that?’
    ‘Of course you can!’ replied Tehol with a bright smile. ‘Chancellor, see to it, won’t you?’
    ‘This very day, King,’ said Bugg.
    ‘Can I go now?’ Ublala asked.
    ‘If you like.’
    ‘Sire,’ began Brys, in growing exasperation, ‘I think—’
    ‘Can I stay?’ Ublala asked.
    ‘Naturally!’
    ‘Sire—’
    ‘Dear brother,’ said Tehol, ‘have you gleaned no hint of my equanimity? Of course you can escort the Malazans, although I think your chances with the Adjunct are pretty minimal, but who am I to crush hopeless optimism under heel? I mean, would I even be married to this lovely woman at my side here, if not for her seemingly unrealistic hopes?’ Bugg delivered a new mug to the King, this one