‘Leave me be, Wither.’
‘The Tiste Edur emperor wants you. Now.’
‘Right. And does he know it?’
‘Not yet.’
‘As I thought.’ He closed his eyes once more. ‘Go away, wraith.’
‘The Wyval and I are in agreement in this, Udinaas. You must step to the forefront. You must make yourself invaluable to Rhulad. Tell me, do you want Feather Witch for your own or not?’
Udinaas blinked, then sat up. ‘What?’
‘Go now, and you will see.’
‘Not until you explain that, Wither.’
‘I shall not, slave. Go to the citadel. Serve the Edur emperor.’
Udinaas pulled aside his blankets and reached for his sodden moccasins. ‘Why don’t you all leave me alone.’
‘She raped you, Udinaas. She took your seed. Why did she do that?’
He went still, one moccasin on, the other cold in his hands. ‘Menandore.’
‘The bitch has designs, she does. No love for Edur or Andii, no, not her.’
‘What has that to do with anything?’
The wraith made no reply.
Udinaas rubbed at his face, then pulled on the second moccasin and tugged at the soaked leather ties. ‘I am a slave, Wither. Slaves are not given slaves, and that is the only way I could win Feather Witch. Unless you plan on invading her mind and twisting her will. In which case, it won’t be Feather Witch, will it?’
‘You accord me powers I do not possess.’
‘Only to emphasize the absurdity of your promises, Wither. Now, be quiet. I’m going.’ He rose and stumbled from the cell. Hulad was crouched by the hearth, heating soup or stew.
‘You were talking to yourself, Udinaas. You shouldn’t do that.’
‘That’s what I keep telling myself,’ he replied, making his way to the doors, collecting a rain cape on the way.
Outside, the rain was a deluge. He could barely make out the anchored ships in the bay. There were figures on the strand. Soldiers.
He pulled up the hood then headed for the citadel that had once belonged to the Warlock King.
Serve the Edur emperor. And where will you take your people, Rhulad Sengar?
The shadow wraiths guarding the entrance made no move to oppose the Letherii slave as he ascended the steps. Both hands on the doors, pushing them aside, striding in on a gust of pelting rain. Come, you damned Edur. Slide a blade across my throat. Through my chest . There were no guards within the reception chamber, and the curtain beyond was drawn closed.
He shook the rain from his cape, then continued forward.
To the curtains. He pulled them aside.
To see the Edur kneeling. All of them, kneeling before the glimmering form of Rhulad Sengar, who stood on the dais, the sword raised in one hand above his head. Bear fur on his shoulders, face a rippling mask of gold surrounding the deep holes of his eye sockets.
Not blind, then. Nor crippled. And if this was madness, then it was a poison riding the chamber’s thick currents.
Udinaas felt the emperor’s eyes fix on him, as palpable as talons digging into his mind. ‘Approach, slave,’ he said, his voice ragged.
Heads lifted and turned as Udinaas threaded through the crowd, making his way down the tiers. The Letherii did not glance at any faces, his gaze focused solely on Rhulad Sengar. In his peripheral vision he saw Hannan Mosag, kneeling with head bowed, and behind him his K’risnan in identical positions of subservience.
‘Speak, Udinaas.’
‘The delegation has arrived, Emperor.’
‘We are bound, are we not, Udinaas? Slave and master. You heard my summons.’
‘I did, master.’ Lies, he realized, were getting easier.
‘The delegation waits in the merchant’s camp. Bring them to us, Udinaas.’
‘As you command.’ He bowed, then began the laborious effort of backing out.
‘There is no need for that, Udinaas. I am not offended by a man’s back. Go, and tell them that the ruler of the Edur will greet them now.’
Udinaas swung about and made his way from the chamber.
Beneath the rain once more, across the bridge. Solitude might invite thought, but Udinaas refused the invitation. The fog of the world beyond was mirrored in his own mind. He was a slave. Slaves did what was commanded of them.
Woodsmoke drifting out from under a broad canopy near the trader wagons. Figures standing beneath it. Acquitor Seren Pedac turned and saw him first. Yes. There is more in her than she realizes. The ghosts like her, hovering like moths around a candle flame. She doesn’t even see them . He watched her say something, then the others swung to face him.
