‘Thank you.’ The weight of the cloak pulled at her neck muscles and shoulders, making the pain in her head throb.
‘I had a daughter, once. A noble took her. Debts, you see. Maybe she’s alive, maybe she isn’t. He went through lasses, that one. Back in Letheras. We couldn’t stay there, you see, not after that. Chance t’see her, or a body turning up, like they do. Anyway, she was tall like you, that’s all. Here, have some ale.’
She accepted the tankard, drank down three quick mouthfuls.
‘There, better now.’
‘I have to go. So do you, to your wife.’
‘Well enough, lass. Can you walk?’
‘Where’s my pack?’
‘He took it with him, said you could collect it. In the shed behind his house. He was specific ’bout that. The shed. Don’t go in the house, he said. Very specific-’
She swung to the ladder. ‘Help me.’
Rough hands under her arms, moving down to her behind as she climbed, then her thighs. ‘Best I can do, lass,’ came a gasp below her as she moved beyond his reach. She clambered onto the pier.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said.
The city was quiet, barring a pair of dogs scrapping somewhere behind a warehouse. Seren stumbled on occasion as she hurried down the streets. But, true to the dockhand’s word, the ale dulled the pain behind her eyes. Made her thoughts all too clear.
She reached Buruk the Pale’s home, an old but well-maintained house halfway down a row on the street just in from the riverside warehouses.
No lights showed behind the shuttered windows.
Seren climbed the steps and drove her boot against the door.
Four kicks and the locks broke. By this time, neighbours had awakened. There were shouts, calls for the guard. Somewhere down the row a bell began ringing.
She followed the collapsing door into the cloakroom beyond. No servants, no sound from within. Into the dark hallway, ascending the stairs to the next level. Another hallway, step by step closing in on the door to Buruk’s bedroom. Through the doorway. Inside.
Where he hung beneath a crossbeam, face bloated in the shadows. A toppled chair off to one side, up against the narrow bed.
A scream, filled with rage, tore loose from Seren’s throat.
Below, boots on the stairs.
She screamed again, the sound falling away to a hoarse sob.
You have always held my heart.
Smoke rising in broad plumes, only to fall back and unfold like a grey cloak over the lands to the north. Obscuring all, hiding nothing.
Hanradi Khalag’s weathered face was set, expressionless, as he stared at the distant devastation. Beside the chief of the Merude, Trull Sengar remained silent, wondering why Hanradi had joined him at this moment, when the mass of warriors were in the midst of breaking camp on the forested slopes all around them.
‘Hull Beddict spoke true,’ the chief said in his raspy voice. ‘They would strike pre-emptively. Beneda, Hiroth and Arapay villages.’
A night of red fires filling the north. At least four villages, and among them Trull’s own. Destroyed.
He swung round to study the slopes. Seething with warriors, Edur women and their slaves, elders and children. No going back, now. The Letherii sorcery has obliterated our homes… but those homes were empty, the villages left to the crows.
And a handful of hapless Nerek.
Nothing but ashes, now.
‘Trull Sengar,’ Hanradi Khalag said, ‘our allies arrived last night. Three thousand. You were seen. It seems they know you well, if only by reputation. The sons of Tomad Sengar, but you especially. The one who leads them is called the Dominant. A hulk of a man, even for one of his kind. More grey than black in his mane. He is named B’nagga-’
‘This does not interest me, Chief,’ Trull cut in. ‘They have been as sorely used as we have, and that use is far from over. I do not know this B’nagga.’
‘As I said, he knows you, and would speak with you.’
Trull turned away.
‘You had best accept the truth of things, Trull Sengar-’
‘One day I will know your mind, Hanradi Khalag. The self you hide so well. Hannan Mosag bent you to his will. And now you kneel before my brother, the emperor. The usurper. Is this what the unification of the tribes was intended to mean? Is this the future you desired?’
‘Usurper. Words like that will see you killed or cast out.’
Trull grunted. ‘Rhulad is with the western army-’
‘But the wraiths now serve him.’
‘Ah, and we are to have spies among us now? An emperor who fears his own. An emperor who would be immune to criticism. Someone must speak in the name of reason.’