Reaper's Gale

Hacking laughter from Ha

Brows raised, the Chancellor half turned to regard the Ceda. ‘And what secret knowledge of this enemy do you possess? And would you care to enlighten myself and your Emperor?’

‘This is not punitive,’ Ha

‘If not punitive,’ Triban Gnol asked, ‘then what?’

Ha

Rhulad bared his teeth. ‘I am not deceived by your games, Ceda. Speak.’

‘Sire-’

‘Answer him!’

‘I must not!’

Silence, in which Triban Gnol could hear naught but his own heart, thudding hard against his ribs. Ha

‘Tell me,’ Rhulad said in a whisper, ‘why this must be our secret.’

‘Sire, this matter belongs among the Tiste Edur.’

‘Why?’

Ah. Because, dear Emperor, these Mahxzans, they are coining for you. Triban Gnol cleared his throat and clasped his hands together above his robe’s belt. ‘This is u

Rhulad seemed to have shrunk back into the throne. His red-shot eyes were wide with terror. ‘They must be stopped,’ he said in a trembling hiss. ‘You will stop them. You, Ha

‘And so we shall,’ Triban Gnol said, bowing again, before straightening and glancing across at the Ceda. ‘Ha

‘Yes,’ said Rhulad. ‘That is true. Array the armies in an unbroken line outside the city-it is clear, isn’t it, that they do not have the numbers to challenge such a thing?’

‘Sire,’ Triban Gnol ventured, ‘perhaps it would be best to advance a little distance nonetheless. Westward. In that way we can, if need be, assemble our reserves in case there is a breach. Two lines of defence, sire, to make certain.’

‘Yes,’ Rhulad said, ‘those tactics are sound. How far away are these Malazans? How long do we have?’

‘Weeks,’ Triban Gnol said.

‘Good. That is well. Yes, we must do that. All of that, as you say. Ceda! You will second yourself and your K’risnan to the Chancellor-’

‘Sire, he is no military commander-’

‘Quiet! You have heard my will, Ha

Ha

Triban Gnol said to the Emperor, ‘Sire, we shall protect you.’ He hesitated, just long enough, then half raised a hand as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘Emperor, I wonder, perhaps it would be best to begin the Challenges? Soon? Their presence is a distraction, an irritant for my guards. There have been incidents of violence, a growing impatience.’ He paused again, two heartbeats, then said in a lower tone: ‘Speculation, sire, that you fear to face them…’

Ha

‘Not another word, Ceda!’ Rhulad hissed. Spasms rippled across the Emperor’s mottled face. The sword skittered again.

Yes, Rhulad, you understand what it is to fear death more than any of us. Perhaps more than any mortal creature this world has seen. But you flinch not from some vague notion of oblivion, do you? No, for you, dear Emperor, death is something different. Never an end, only that which precedes yet another pain-filled rebirth. Even in death you ca

‘The Challenges,’ said the Emperor, ‘will begin in four days. Chancellor, have your assessors agreed on an order?’

‘Yes, sire. Three of the least skilled to begin. It is likely you will kill all three in a single day. They will tax you, of that we can be sure, but not unduly so. The second day is reserved for one champion. A masked woman. Exceptional speed but perhaps lacking imagination. Yet she will be difficult.’

‘Good.’

‘Sire…’

‘Yes? What is it?’

‘There are the two we have spoken of before. The Tarthenal with the flint sword. Undefeated by any other champion-in fact, no-one dares spar with him any more. He has the habit of breaking bones.’

‘Yes. The arrogant one.’ Rhulad smiled. ‘But I have faced Tarthenal before.’

‘But not one with Karsa Orlong’s prowess, sire.’

‘No matter, that.’

‘He may succeed in killing you, sire. Perhaps more than once. Not seven. Such days are long past. But, perhaps, three or four. We have allotted three days.’

‘Following the masked woman?’

‘No, there are six others to span two days.’

Ha

‘Nonetheless, my assessors were unanimous, Ceda. This one is… unique.’

Rhulad was trembling once more. Slain by Karsa Orlong three, four times. Yes, sire, the sheer horror of that…

‘There remains one more,’ the Emperor said.

‘Yes. The one named Icarium. He will be the last. If not the eighth day, then the ninth.’

‘And the number of days with him, Chancellor?’

‘Unknown, sire. He does not spar.’

‘Then how do we know he can fight?’

Triban Gnol bowed again. ‘Sire, we have discussed this before. The report of Varat Taun, corroborated by Icarium’s companion, Taralack Veed. And now, I learned today, something new. Something most extraordinary.’

‘What? Tell me!’

‘Among the rejected champions, sire, a monk from a distant archipelago. It would appear, sire, that this monk-and indeed all of his people-worship a single god. And this god is none other than Icarium.’

Rhulad flinched as if struck across the face. The sword’s point leapt up from the floor, then cracked down again. Marble chips clattered down the dais step. ‘I am to cross blades with a god?’

The Chancellor shrugged. ‘Do such claims hold veracity, sire? A primitive, ignorant people, these Cabalhii. No doubt seeing in dhenrabi the soul of sea-storms and in crab carapaces the faces of the drowned. I should add, Emperor, that this monk believes his god to be insane, to which the only answer is a painted mask denoting laughter. Savages possess the strangest notions.’