The Malazan Empire, page 418
‘Ah, well. That is entirely another matter. There is news on the wind, which, had any of you been in a proper state would already be known to you. It seems, my sweet friend, that Lether is at war.’
‘The Tiste Edur?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Perfect!’ Shand barked, thumping the desktop with a fist. ‘We strike now and it’ll all come down!’
‘Likely,’ Tehol said. ‘And also, disastrous. Do you want the Edur to march in and burn everything to the ground?
‘Why not? It’s all corrupt anyway!’
‘Because, Shand, bad as it is—and we’re all agreed it’s bad—matters can get a whole lot worse. If, for example, the Tiste Edur win this war.’
‘Hold on, Tehol! The plan was to bring about a collapse. But now you’re going back on it. You must be a fool to think the Edur would win this war without our help. No one wins against Lether. Never have, never will. But if we strike now…’
‘All very well, Shand. For myself, however, I am not convinced the Edur will prove ideal conquerors. As I said, what is to stop them from putting every Letherii to the sword, enslaving everyone? What’s to stop them from razing every city, every town, every village? It’s one thing to bring down an economy, and so trigger a reformation of sorts, reconfiguring of values and all that. It’s entirely another to act in a way that exposes the Letherii to genocide.’
‘Why?’ Rissarh demanded. ‘They’ve not hesitated at committing genocide of their own, have they? How many Tarthenal villages were burned to the ground? How many children of the Nerek and the Faraed were spitted on spears, how many dragged into slavery?’
‘Then you would descend to their level, Rissarh? Why emulate the worst behaviours of a culture, when it is those very behaviours that fill you with horror? Revulsion at babes spitted on spears, so you would do the same in return?’ He looked at each of them in turn, but they made no reply. Tehol ran a hand through his hair. ‘Consider the opposite. A hypothetical situation, if you will. Letheras declares a war in the name of liberty and would therefore assert the right of the moral high ground. How would you respond?’
‘With disgust,’ Hejun said, relighting her pipe, face disappearing behind blue clouds.
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s not liberty they want, not the kind of liberty that serves the people in question. Instead, it’s the freedom of Letherii business interests to profit from those people.’
‘And if they act to prevent genocide and tyranny, Hejun?’
‘Then no moral high ground at all, for they have committed their own acts of genocide. As for tyranny, tyrannies are only reprehensible to the Letherii when they do not operate in collusion with Letherii business interests. And, by that definition, they make their claims of honour suspect to everyone else.’
‘All very well. Now, I have considered each and every one of those arguments. And could only conclude one thing: the Letherii, in that situation, are damned if they do and damned if they don’t. In other words, the issue is one of trust. In the past lies the evidence leading one to mistrust. In the present may be seen efforts to reacquire trust, whilst in the future awaits the proof of either one or the other.’
‘This is a hypothetical situation, Tehol,’ Shand said wearily. ‘What is your point?’
‘My point is, nothing is as simple as it might at first seem. And paradigms rarely shift through an act of will. They change as a consequence of chaos, in stumbling over a threshold, and all that is most reprehensible in our nature waits in the wings, eager to invade and so give shape to the reforging of order. It falls to every one of us to be mindfull.’
‘What in the Errant’s name are you talking about?’ Shand demanded.
‘What I am saying, Shand, is that we cannot in good conscience trigger a collapse of the Letherii economy right now. Not until we determine how this war is going to play out.’
‘Good conscience? Who cares about that? Our motive was revenge. The Letherii are poised to annihilate yet another people. And I want to get them!’
‘Do not dismiss the Tiste Edur just yet, Shand. Our priority right now must be the secret evacuation of destitute and Indebted Nerek, Faraed and Tarthenal. Out to the islands. To my islands. The rest can wait, should wait, and will wait. Until I say otherwise.’
‘You’re betraying us.’
‘No, I’m not. Nor am I having second thoughts. I am not blind to the underlying motives of greed upon which my civilization is founded, for all its claims of righteous destiny and unassailable integrity.’
‘What makes you think,’ Hejun asked, ‘the Tiste Edur might succeed where everyone else has failed?’
‘Succeed? That word makes me uneasy. Might they prove a difficult and at times devastating enemy? I think they will. Their civilization is old, Hejun. Far older than ours. Their golden age was long, long ago. They exist now in a state of fear, seeing the influence and material imposition of Letheras as a threat, as a kind of ongoing unofficial war of cultures. To the Edur, Lether is a poison, a corrupting influence, and in reaction to that the Edur have become a people entrenched and belligerent. In disgust at what they see ahead of them, they have turned their backs and dream only of what lay behind them. They dream of a return to past glories. Even could the Letherii offer a helping hand, they would view it as an invitation to surrender, and their pride will not permit that. Or, conversely, that hand represents an attack on all they hold dear, and so they will cut it and dance in the blood. The worst scenario I can imagine, for the Edur, is if they win this war. If they somehow conquer us and become occupiers.’
‘Won’t happen, and what if it did? They couldn’t be worse.’
Tehol studied Hejun briefly, then he shrugged. ‘All of this awaits resolution. In the meantime, remain vigilant. There are still things that need doing. What happened to that Nerek mother and her children I sent you?’
‘We shipped them to the islands,’ Shand said. ‘They ate more than she cooked. Started getting fat. It was all very sad.’
‘Well, it’s late and I’m hungry, so I will take my leave now.’
‘What about Ublala?’ Rissarh demanded.
‘What about him?’
‘We want him back.’
‘Too late, I’m afraid. That’s what happens when you won’t commit.’
Tehol quickly made his way out.
Walking the quiet streets back to his abode, Tehol considered his earlier words. He had to admit to himself that he was troubled. There was sufficient mystery in some of the rumours to suggest that the impending war would not be like all the others Letherii had waged. A collision of wills and desires, and beneath it a host of dubious assumptions and suspect sentiments. In that alone, no different from any other war. But in this case, the outcome was far from certain, and even the notion of victory seemed confused and elusive.
He passed through Burl Square and came to the entrance to the warehouse storage area, beyond which was the alley leading to his home. Pausing to push up his lopsided sleeves and cinch tight his trousers, he frowned. Was he losing weight? Hard to know. Wool stretched, after all.
A figure stepped from the nearby shadows of an alley mouth. ‘You’re late.’
Tehol started, then said, ‘For what?’
Shurq Elalle came to within two paces of him. ‘I’ve been waiting. Bugg made soup. Where have you been?’
‘What are you doing out?’ Tehol asked. ‘You’re supposed to be holed up right now. This is dangerous—’
‘I needed to talk to you,’ she cut in. ‘It’s about Harlest.’
‘What about him?’
‘He wants his sharp teeth and talons. It’s all we ever hear. Fangs and talons, fangs and talons. We’re sick of it. Where’s Selush? Why haven’t you made arrangements? You’re treating us like corpses, but even the dead have needs, you know.’
‘Well, no, I didn’t know that. In any case, tell Harlest that Selush is working on this, probably right now in fact. Sharp solutions are forthcoming.’
‘Don’t make me laugh.’
‘Sorry. Are you in need of a refill?’
‘A what?’
‘Well, uh, more herbs and stuff, I mean.’
‘I don’t know. Am I? Do I smell or something?’
‘No. Only of sweet things, Shurq. I assure you.’
‘I am less inspired by your assurances as time goes on, Tehol Beddict.’
‘What a terrible thing to say! Have we stumbled yet?’
‘When is Gerun Eberict returning?’
‘Soon, it turns out. Things should get exciting then.’
‘I am capable of excitement regarding one thing and one thing only, and that has nothing to do with Gerun Eberict. However, I want to steal again. Anything, from whomever. Point me in a direction. Any direction.’
‘Well, there is of course the Tolls Repository. But that’s impregnable, obviously. Or, let’s see, the royal vaults, but again, impossible.’
‘The Tolls. Yes, that sounds challenging.’
‘You won’t succeed, Shurq. No-one ever has, and that includes Green Pig who was a sorceror nearly to rival the Ceda himself—’
‘I knew Green Pig. He suffered from overconfidence.’
‘And was torn limb from limb as a result.’
‘What do you want stolen from the Tolls Repository?’
‘Shurq—’
‘What?’
Tehol glanced round. ‘All right. I want to find out which lender holds the largest royal debt. The king has been borrowing prodigiously, and not just to finance the Eternal Domicile. So, who and how much. Same for Queen Janall. And whatever she’s done in her son’s name.’
‘Is that all? No gold? No diamonds?’
‘That’s right. No gold, no diamonds, and no evidence left behind that anyone was ever in there.’
‘I can do that.’
‘No you can’t. You’ll get caught. And dismembered.’
‘Oh, that will hurt.’
‘Maybe not, but it’ll prove inconvenient.’
‘I won’t get caught, Tehol Beddict. Now, what did you want from the royal vaults?’
‘A tally.’
‘You want to know the present state of the treasury.’
‘Yes.’
‘I can do that.’
‘No you can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’ll have been dismembered by then.’
‘Thus permitting me to slip into places where I otherwise wouldn’t fit.’
‘Shurq, they take your head off too, you know. It’s the last thing they do.’
‘Really? That’s barbaric.’
‘Like I said, you would be greatly inconvenienced.’
‘I would at that. Well, I shall endeavour to be careful. Mind you, even a head can count.’
‘What would you have me do, break in and lob your head into the vaults? Tied to a rope so I can pull you out again when you’re done?’
‘That sounds somewhat problematic.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’
‘Can’t you plan any better than that, Tehol Beddict? My faith in you is fast diminishing.’
‘Can’t be helped, I suppose. What’s this I hear about you purchasing a seagoing vessel?’
‘That was supposed to be a secret. Bugg said he wouldn’t tell—’
‘He didn’t. I have my own sources of intelligence, especially when the owner of the vessel just sold happens to be me. Indirectly, of course.’
‘All right. Me and Ublala and Harlest, we want to be pirates.’
‘Don’t make me laugh, Shurq.’
‘Now you’re being cruel.’
‘Sorry. Pirates, you say. Well, all three of you are notoriously hard to drown. Might work at that.’
‘Your confidence and well-wishing overwhelms me.’
‘And when do you plan on embarking on this new venture?’
‘When you’re done with us, of course.’
Tehol tugged up his trousers again. ‘Yet another edifying conversation with you, Shurq. Now, I smell something that might well be soup, and you need to go back to your crypt.’
‘Sometimes I really hate you.’
He led her by the hand down the shallow, crumbling steps. She liked these journeys, even though the places he took her were strange and often…disturbing. This time, they descended an inverted stepped pyramid—at least that was what he called it. Four sides to the vast, funnelled pit, and at the base there was a small square of darkness.
The air was humid enough to leave droplets on her bare arms. Far overhead, the sky was white and formless. She did not know if it was hot—memories of such sensations had begun to fade, along with so many other things.
They reached the base of the pit and she looked up at the tall, pale figure at her side. His face was becoming more visible, less blurred. It looked handsome, but hard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said after a moment, ‘that she’s got you by the ankles.’
‘We all have our burdens, Kettle.’
‘Where are we?’
‘You have no recognition of this place?’
‘No. Maybe.’
‘Let us continue down, then.’
Into the darkness, three rungs to a landing, then a spiral staircase of black stone.
‘Round and round,’ Kettle said, giggling.
A short while later they came to the end, the stairs opening out onto a sprawling, high-ceilinged chamber. The gloom was no obstacle to Kettle, nor, she suspected, to her companion. She could see a ragged mound heaped against the far wall to their right, and made to move towards it, but his hand drew her back.
‘No, lass. Not there.’
He led her instead directly ahead. Three doorways, each one elaborately arched and framed with reverse impressions of columns. Between them, the walls displayed deeply carved images.
‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘there is a reversal of perspective. That which is closest is carved deepest. There is a significance to all this.’
‘Where are we?’
‘To achieve peace, destruction is delivered. To give the gift of freedom, one promises eternal imprisonment. Adjudication obviates the need for justice. This is a studied, deliberate embrace of diametric opposition. It is a belief in balance, a belief asserted with the conviction of religion. But in this case, the proof of a god’s power lies not in the cause but in the effect. Accordingly, in this world and in all others, proof is achieved by action, and therefore all action—including the act of choosing inaction—is inherently moral. No deed stands outside the moral context. At the same time, the most morally perfect act is the one taken in opposition to what has occurred before.’
‘What do the rooms look like through those openings?’
‘In this civilization,’ he continued, ‘its citizens were bound to acts of utmost savagery. Vast cities were constructed beneath the world’s surface. Each chamber, every building, assembled as the physical expression of the quality of absence. Solid rock matched by empty space. From these places, where they did not dwell, but simply gathered, they set out to achieve balance.’
It seemed he would not lead her through any of the doorways, so she fixed her attention instead on the images. ‘There are no faces.’
‘The opposite of identity, yes, Kettle.’
‘The bodies look strange.’
‘Physically unique. In some ways more primitive, but as a consequence less…specialized, and so less constrained. Profoundly long-lived, more so than any other species. Very difficult to kill, and, it must be said, they needed to be killed. Or so was the conclusion reached after any initial encounter with them. Most of the time. They did fashion the occasional alliance. With the Jaghut, for example. But that was yet another tactic aimed at reasserting balance, and it ultimately failed. As did this entire civilization.’
Kettle swung round to study that distant heap of…something. ‘Those are bodies, aren’t they?’
‘Bones. Scraps of clothing, the harnesses they wore.’
‘Who killed them?’
‘You had to understand, Kettle. The one within you must understand. My refutation of the Forkrul Assail belief in balance is absolute. It is not that I am blind to the way in which force is ever countered, the way in which the natural world strains towards balance. But in that striving I see no proof of a god’s power; I see no guiding hand behind such forces. And, even if one such existed, I see no obvious connection with the actions of a self-chosen people for whom chaos is the only rational response to order. Chaos needs no allies, for it dwells like a poison in every one of us. The only relevant struggle for balance I acknowledge is that within ourselves. Externalizing it presumes inner perfection, that the internal struggle is over, victory achieved.’
‘You killed them.’
‘These ones here, yes. As for the rest, no. I was too late arriving and my freedom too brief for that. In any case, but a few enclaves were left by that time. My draconic kin took care of that task, since no other entity possessed the necessary power. As I said, they were damned hard to kill.’
Kettle shrugged, and she heard him sigh.
‘There are places, lass, where Forkrul Assail remain. Imprisoned for the most part, but ever restless. Even more disturbing, in many of those places they are worshipped by misguided mortals.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘You have no idea, Kettle, of the extremity the Azath tower found itself in. To have chosen a soul such as yours…it was like reaching into the heart of the enemy camp. I wonder if, in its last moments, it knew regret. Misgivings. Mother knows, I do.’
‘What is this soul you are talking about?’
‘Perhaps it sought to use the soul’s power without fully awakening it. We will never know. But you are loose upon the world now. Shaped to fight as a soldier in the war against chaos. Can that fundamental conflict within you be reconciled? Your soul, lass? It is Forkrul Assail.’
‘So you have brought me home?’
His hand betrayed his sudden flinch. ‘You were also a mortal human child, once. And there is a mystery in that. Who birthed you? Who took away your life, and why? Was all this in preparation for your corpse to house the Assail soul? If that is the case, then the Azath tower was either deceived by someone capable of communicating with it, or it had in truth nothing at all to do with the creation of you as you now are. But that makes no sense—why would the Azath lie to me?’
