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The Hiroth warrior looked away, back down the road, blinking the water from his eyes. ‘And with each step, the cost of my quest becomes greater – an indebtedness you should well understand, Acquitor. The Letherii way of living, the burdens you can never escape. Nor purchase your way clear.’

  She reached out for the keys.

  He set them into her hand, unwilling to meet her eyes.

  We’re no different from those slaves. She hefted the weight of the jangling iron in her hand. Chained together. Yet . . . who holds the means of our release?

  ‘Where has he gone?’ Fear asked.

  ‘To hunt down the Letherii. I trust you do not object to that.’

  ‘No, but you should, Acquitor.’

  I suppose I should at that. She set off to where waited the slaves.

  A prisoner near Udinaas had crawled close to him, and Seren heard his whispered question: ‘That tall slayer – was that the White Crow? He was, wasn’t he? I have heard—’

  ‘You have heard nothing,’ Udinaas said, raising his arms as Seren approached. ‘The three-edged one,’ he said to her. ‘Yes, that one. Errant take us, you took your time.’

  She worked the key until the first shackle clicked open. ‘You two were supposed to be stealing from a farm – not getting rounded up by slave-trackers.’

  ‘Trackers camped on the damned grounds – no-one was smiling on us that night.’

  She opened the other shackle and Udinaas stepped out from the line, rubbing at the red weals round his wrists. Seren said, ‘Fear sought to dissuade Silchas – you know, if those two are any indication, it’s no wonder the Edur and the Andii fought ten thousand wars.’

  Udinaas grunted as the two made their way to where stood Kettle. ‘Fear resents his loss of command,’ he said. ‘That it is to a Tiste Andii just makes it worse. He’s still not convinced the betrayal was the other way round all those centuries back; that it was Scabandari who first drew the knife.’

  Seren Pedac said nothing. As she moved in front of Kettle she looked down at the girl’s dirt-smeared face, the ancient eyes slowly lifting to meet her own.

  Kettle smiled. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘How badly were you used?’ Seren asked as she removed the large iron shackles.

  ‘I can walk. And the bleeding’s stopped. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’

  ‘Probably.’ But this talk of rape was unwelcome – Seren had her own memories haunting her every waking moment. ‘There will be scars, Kettle.’

  ‘Being alive is hard. I’m always hungry, and my feet hurt.’

  I hate children with secrets – especially ones with secrets they’re not even aware of. Find the right questions; there’s no other way of doing this. ‘What else bothers you about being among the living again, Kettle?’ And . . . how? Why?

  ‘Feeling small.’

  Seren’s right arm was plucked by a slave, an old man who reached out for the keys with pathetic hope in his eyes. She handed them to him. ‘Free the others,’ she said. He nodded vigorously, scrabbling at his shackles. ‘Now,’ Seren said to Kettle, ‘that’s a feeling we all must accept. Too much of the world defies our efforts to conform to what would please us. To live is to know dissatisfaction and frustration.’

  ‘I still want to tear out throats, Seren. Is that bad? I think it must be.’

  At Kettle’s words, the old man shrank away, redoubling his clumsy attempts at releasing himself. Behind him a woman cursed with impatience.

  Udinaas had climbed onto the bed of the lead wagon and was busy looting it for whatever they might need. Kettle scrambled to join him.

  ‘We need to move out of this mist,’ Seren muttered. ‘I’m soaked through.’ She walked towards the wagon. ‘Hurry up with that, you two. If more company finds us here, we could be in trouble.’ Especially now that Silchas Ruin is gone. The Tiste Andii had been the singular reason for their survival thus far. When hiding and evading the searchers failed, his two swords found voice, the eerie song of obliteration. The White Crow.

  It had been a week since they last caught sight of Edur and Letherii who were clearly hunters. Seeking the traitor, Fear Sengar. Seeking the betrayer, Udinaas. Yet Seren Pedac was bemused – there should have been entire armies chasing them. While the pursuit was persistent, it was dogged rather than ferocious in its execution. Silchas had mentioned, once, in passing, that the Emperor’s K’risnan were working ritual sorceries, the kind that sought to lure and trap. And that snares awaited them to the east, and round Letheras itself. She could understand those to the east, for it was the wild lands beyond the empire that had been their destination all along, where Fear – for some reason he did not care to explain – believed he would find what he sought; a belief that Silchas Ruin did not refute. But to surround the capital city itself baffled Seren. As if Rhulad is frightened of his brother.

  Udinaas leapt down from the lead wagon and made his way to the second one. ‘I found coin,’ he said. ‘Lots. We should take these horses, too – we can sell them once we’re down the other side of the pass.’

  ‘There is a fort at the pass,’ Seren said. ‘It may be ungarrisoned, but there’s no guarantee of that, Udinaas. If we arrive with horses – and they recognize them . . .’

  ‘We go round that fort,’ he replied. ‘At night. Unseen.’

  She frowned, wiped water from her eyes. ‘Easier done without horses. Besides, these beasts are old, too broken – they won’t earn us much, especially in Bluerose. And when Wyval returns they’ll probably die of terror.’

  ‘Wyval’s not coming back,’ Udinaas said, turning away, his voice grating. ‘Wyval’s gone, and that’s that.’

  She knew she should not doubt him. The dragon-spawn’s spirit had dwelt within him, after all. Yet there was no obvious explanation for the winged beast’s sudden disappearance, at least none that Udinaas would share. Wyval had been gone for over a month.

  Udinaas swore from where he crouched atop the bed of the wagon. ‘Nothing here but weapons.’

  ‘Weapons?’

  ‘Swords, shields and armour.’

  ‘Letherii?’

  ‘Yes. Middling quality.’

  ‘What were these slavers doing with a wagon load of weapons?’

  Shrugging, he climbed back down, hurried past her and began unhitching the horses. ‘These beasts would’ve had a hard time on the ascent.’

  ‘Silchas Ruin is coming back,’ Kettle said, pointing down the road.

  ‘That was fast.’

  Udinaas laughed harshly, then said, ‘The fools should have scattered, made him hunt each one down separately. Instead, they probably regrouped, like the stupid good soldiers they were.’

  From near the front wagon, Fear Sengar spoke. ‘Your blood is very thin, Udinaas, isn’t it?’

  ‘Like water,’ the ex-slave replied.

  For Errant’s sake, Fear, he did not choose to abandon your brother. You know that. Nor is he responsible for Rhulad’s madness. So how much of your hatred for Udinaas comes from guilt? Who truly is to blame for Rhulad? For the Emperor of a Thousand Deaths?

  The white-skinned Tiste Andii strode from the mists, 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.’ He glanced out of the window behind Karos Invictad. ‘The investigation must be conducted by the Patriotists, in utmost secrecy.’ The heavy-lidded eyes lowered, settling on the Invigilator. ‘I understand that you have been targeting academics and scholars of late.’

  A modest shrug and lift of the brows from Karos Invictad. ‘The many paths of treason.’

  ‘Some are members of established and respected families in Lether.’

  ‘No, Rautos, not the ones we have arrested.’

  ‘True, but those unfortunate victims have friends, Invigilator, who have in turn appealed to me.’

  ‘Well, my friend, this is delicate indeed. You tread now on the thinnest skin of ground, with naught but mud beneath.’ He sat forward, folding his hands on the desk. ‘But I shall look into it nonetheless. Perhaps the recent spate of arrests has succeeded in quelling the disenchantment among the learned, or at least culled the most egregious of their lot.’

  ‘Thank you, Invigilator. Now, who will conduct your investigation?’

  ‘Why, I will attend to this personally.’

  ‘Venitt Sathad, my assistant who awaits in the courtyard below, can serve as liaison between your organization and myself for this week; thereafter, I will assign someone else.’

  ‘Very good. Weekly reports should suffice, at least to start.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Rautos Hivanar rose, and after a moment Karos Invictad followed suit.

  The office was suddenly very cramped, and Tanal edged back, angry at the intimidation he felt instinctively rising within him. I have nothing to fear from Rautos Hivanar. Nor Karos. I am their confidant, the both of them. They trust me.

  Karos Invictad was a step behind Rautos, one hand on the man’s back as the Master opened the door. As soon as Rautos stepped into the hallway, Karos smiled and said a few last words to the man, who grunted in reply, and then the Invigilator closed the door and turned to face Tanal.

  ‘One of those well-respected academics is now staining your sheets, Yathvanar.’

  Tanal blinked. ‘Sir, she was sentenced to the Drowning—’

  ‘Revoke the punishment. Get her cleaned up.’

  ‘Sir, it may well be that she will recall—’

  ‘A certain measure of restraint,’ Karos Invictad said in a cold tone, ‘is required from you, Tanal Yathvanar. Arrest some daughters of those already in chains, damn you, and have your fun with them. Am I understood?’

  ‘Y-yes sir. If she remembers—’

  ‘Then restitution will be necessary, won’t it? I trust you keep your own finances in order, Yathvanar. Now, begone from my sight.’

  As Tanal closed the door behind him, he struggled to draw breath. The bastard. There was no warning off her, was there? Whose mistake was all this? Yet, you think to make me pay for it. All of it. Blade and Axe take you, Invictad, I won’t suffer alone.

  I won’t.

  ‘Depravity holds a certain fascination, don’t you think?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘After all, the sicker the soul, the sweeter its comeuppance.’

  ‘Assuming there is one.’

  ‘There’s a centre point, I’m sure of it. And it should be dead centre, by my calculations. Perhaps the fulcrum itself is flawed.’

  ‘What calculations?’

  ‘Well, the ones I asked you to do for me, of course. Where are they?’

  ‘They’re on my list.’

  ‘And how do you calculate the order of your list?’

  ‘That’s not the calculation you asked for.’

  ‘Good point. Anyway, if he’d just hold all his legs still, we could properly test my hypothesis.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to, and I can see why. You’re trying to balance him at the mid-point of his body, but he’s designed to hold that part up, with all those legs.’

  ‘Are those formal observations? If so, make a note.’

  ‘On what? We had the wax slab for lunch.’

  ‘No wonder I feel I could swallow a cow with nary a hiccough. Look! Hah! He’s perched! Perfectly perched!’

  Both men leaned in to examine Ezgara, the insect with a head at each end. Not unique, of course, there were plenty around these days, filling some arcane niche in the complicated miasma of nature, a niche that had been vacant for countless millennia. The creature’s broken-twig legs kicked out helplessly.

  ‘You’re torturing him,’ said Bugg, ‘with clear depravity, Tehol.’

  ‘It only seems that way.’

  ‘No, it is that way.’

  ‘All right, then.’ Tehol reached down and plucked the hapless insec
t from the fulcrum. Its heads swivelled about. ‘Anyway,’ he said as he peered closely at the creature, ‘that wasn’t the depravity I was talking about. How goes the construction business, by the way?’

  ‘Sinking fast.’

  ‘Ah. Is that an affirmation or decried destitution?’

  ‘We’re running out of buyers. No hard coin, and I’m done with credit, especially when it turns out the developers can’t sell the properties. So I’ve had to lay everyone off, including myself.’

  ‘When did all this happen?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Typical. I’m always the last to hear. Is Ezgara hungry, do you think?’

  ‘He ate more wax than you did – where do you think all the waste goes?’

  ‘His or mine?’

  ‘Master, I already know where yours goes, and if Biri ever finds out—’

  ‘Not another word, Bugg. Now, by my observations, and according to the notations you failed to make, Ezgara has consumed food equivalent in weight to a drowned cat. Yet he remains tiny, spry, fit, and thanks to our wax lunch today his heads no longer squeak when they swivel, which I take to be a good sign, since now we won’t be woken up a hundred times a night.’

  ‘Master.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How do you know how much a drowned cat weighs?’

  ‘Selush, of course.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You must remember. Three years ago. That feral cat netted in the Rinnesict Estate, the one raping a flightless ornamental duck. It was sentenced to Drowning.’

  ‘A terrible demise for a cat. Yes, I remember now. The yowl heard across the city.’

  ‘That’s the one. Some unnamed benefactor took pity on the sodden feline corpse, paying Selush a small fortune to dress the beast for proper burial.’

  ‘You must be mad. Who would do that and why?’

  ‘For ulterior motives, obviously. I wanted to know how much a drowned cat weighs, of course. Otherwise, how valid the comparison? Descriptively, I’ve been waiting to use it for years.’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘No, much longer. Hence my curiosity, and opportunism. Prior to that cat’s watery end, I feared voicing the comparison, which, lacking veracity on my part, would invite ridicule.’