Rhulad left the harsh sunlight and stood in the tunnel entrance, swallowed by shadows.
My grand empire.
The Chancellor stood before him each day, and lied. All was well, all would be well with the execution of Tehol Beddict. The mines were working overtime, forging more currency, but this needed careful control, because Karos Invictad believed that all that Tehol had stolen would be retrieved. Even so, better a period of inflation than the chaos now plaguing Lether.
But Hannan Mosag told him otherwise, had indeed fashioned rituals permitting Rhulad to see for himself-the riots, the madness, scenes blurred, at times maddeningly faded, yet still they stank of the truth. Where the Ceda lied was in what he would not reveal.
‘What of the invasion, Ceda? Show me these Malazans.’
‘I cannot, alas, Emperor. They protect themselves with strange magics. See, the water in the bowl grows cloudy when I quest their way. As if they could cast in handfuls of flour. Blinding all the water might reveal.’
Lies. Triban Gnol had been more blunt in his assessment-a directness that unveiled the Chancellor’s growing concern, perhaps even his fear. The Malazans who had landed on the west coast, who had begun their march inland-towards Letheras itself-were proving themselves both cunning and deadly. To clash with them was to reel back bloodied and battered, a retreat strewn with dead soldiers and dead Tiste Edur. Yes, they were coming for Rhulad. Could the Chancellor stop them?
‘Yes, Emperor. We can. We shall. Hanradi has divided his Edur forces. One waits with our main army just west of the city. The other has travelled fast and light northward and is even now swinging westward, like a sweeping arm, to appear behind these Malazans-but not as has been attempted before. No, your Edur do not ride in column, do not travel the roads now. They fight as they once did, during the unification wars. War’parties, moving silent in the shadows, matching the Malazans and perhaps going one better in their stealth-’
Yes.’ We adapt, not into something new, but into something old-the very heart of our prowess. Whose idea was this? Tell me!’
A bow from Triban Gnol. ‘Sire, did you not place me in charge of this defence?’
‘Then, you.’
Another bow. ‘As I said, Emperor, the guiding hand was yours.’