‘Untrained fodder, Preda. A terrible waste of citizenry. Are they even armed?’
‘Spears and shields, sire. Leather armour.’
The king leaned back. ‘Nifadas. Still no word on the fate of my wife and son?’
‘Our emissaries do not return, sire.’
‘What does he want with them?’
‘I am at a loss to answer that,’ the First Eunuch admitted. ‘This Tiste Edur emperor is… unpredictable. Sire, despite the Preda’s confidence, I believe it would be wise to begin plans for your temporary displacement-’
‘My what ?’
‘Leaving Letheras, sire. Southeast, perhaps. Tallis on the Isle, or Truce.’
‘No.’
‘Sire-’
‘Nifadas, if I am to fall, then it will be here. I shall not bring destruction upon other cities, for it is destruction my presence will invite. The protectorates, should I be usurped, will fall in line. Peacefully, with no loss of life. This Tiste Edur emperor shall have his empire. For myself, if I must die, it will be here, on this very throne. Or, rather,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘on the one in the Eternal Domicile.’
Silence. Then the Preda turned slowly to face Brys.
He returned her regard dispassionately. The king had made his wishes known. If he would die on his throne, then his Champion would of necessity already be dead. There was no other path to Ezgara Diskanar, after all.
‘It is my intention, sire,’ Unnutal said, ‘that the situation you describe does not arise. The Tiste Edur will be thrown back. Beaten and broken.’
‘As you say,’ the king replied.
These were not new considerations for Brys. Ever since the first defeats up north, he had been thinking about a final stand before his king. The passage leading into the throne room in the Eternal Domicile was relatively narrow. With four of his best guards he felt he could hold it for some time. But without relief his death would be inevitable. The least palatable thought of all, however, was the possibility of dying beneath sorcery. Against which he had no defence. The Ceda’s seeming descent into madness was the most painful blow of all. Should the enemy reach the palace, the loss of Kuru Qan would be decisive.
Brys wanted to die honourably, but he was helpless to choose, and that stung.
The doors opened behind him and he turned to see a guard step inside.
‘What now?’ the king asked.
‘Finadd Gerun Eberict, my lord,’ the guard announced.
‘Very well.’
The man entered and bowed before the king. ‘Sire, I apologize for arriving late. There were household affairs to attend to-’
‘Taking precedence over an audience with your king, Finadd?’