The Malazan Empire, page 599
Unable to speak, Tanal Yathvanar simply nodded.
‘I note this – and with some urgency – because you have no doubt grown weary of her in any case, and if not, you should have. I trust I am understood. Would you not enjoy replacing her with the First Concubine?’ Karos smiled.
Tanal licked dry lips. ‘Such a dossier will be difficult, Master—’
‘Don’t be a fool. Work with the Chancellor’s agents. We’re not interested in factual reportage here. Invent what we need to incriminate her. That should not be difficult. Errant knows, we have had enough practice.’
‘Even so – forgive me, sir – but she is the Emperor’s only lover.’
‘You do not understand at all, do you? She is not Rhulad’s first love. No, that woman, an Edur, killed herself – oh, never mind the official version, I have witness reports of that tragic event. She was carrying the Emperor’s child. Thus, in every respect imaginable, she betrayed him. Tanal, for Rhulad the rains have just passed, and while the clay feels firm underfoot, it is in truth thin as papyrus. At the first intimation of suspicion, Rhulad will lose his mind to rage – we will be lucky to wrest the woman from his clutches. Accordingly, the arrest must take effect in the palace, in private, when the First Concubine is alone. She must then be brought here immediately.’
‘Do you not believe the Emperor will demand her return?’
‘The Chancellor will advise against it, of course. Please, Tanal Yathvanar, leave the subtle details of human – and Edur – natures to those of us who fully comprehend them. You shall have the woman, fear not. To do with as you please – once we have her confession, that is. Bloodied and bruised, is that not how you prefer them? Now, leave me. I believe I have arrived at a solution to this contraption.’
Tanal Yathvanar stood outside the closed door for a time, struggling to slow his heart, his mind racing. Murder Janath Anar? Make her disappear like all the others? Fattening the crabs at the bottom of the river? Oh, Errant, I do not know…if…I do not know—
From behind the office door came a snarl of frustration.
Oddly enough, the sound delighted him. Yes, you towering intellect, it defeats you again. That two-headed nightmare in miniature. For all your lofty musings on your own genius, this puzzle confounds you. Perhaps, Invigilator, the world is not how you would have it, not so clear, not so perfectly designed to welcome your domination.
He forced himself forward, down the hall. No, he would not kill Janath Anar. He loved her. Karos Invictad loved only himself – it had always been so, Tanal suspected, and that was not going to change. The Invigilator understood nothing of human nature, no matter how he might delude himself. Indeed, Karos had given himself away in that careless command to kill her. Yes, Invigilator, this is my revelation. I am smarter than you. I am superior in all the ways that truly matter. You and your power, it is all compensation for what you do not understand about the world, for the void in your soul where compassion belongs. Compassion, and the love that one can feel for another person.
He would tell her, now. He would confess the depth of his feelings, and then he would unchain her, and they would flee. Out of Letheras. Beyond the reach of the Patriotists. Together, they would make their lives anew.
He hurried down the damp, worn stairs, beyond the sight of everyone now, down into his own private world. Where his love awaited him.
The Invigilator could not reach everywhere – as Tanal was about to prove.
Down through darkness, all so familiar now he no longer needed a lantern. Where he ruled, not Karos Invictad, no, not here. This was why the Invigilator attacked him again and again, with ever the same weapon, the implicit threat of exposure, of defamation of Tanal Yathvanar’s good name. But all these crimes, they belonged to Karos Invictad. Imagine the counter-charges Tanal could level against him, if he needed to – he had copies of records; he knew where every secret was buried. The accounts of the bloodstained wealth the Invigilator had amassed from the estates of his victims – Tanal knew where those records were kept. And as for the corpses of the ones who had disappeared…
Reaching the barred door to the torture chamber, he drew down the lantern he had left on a ledge and, after a few efforts, struck the wick alight. He lifted clear the heavy bar and pushed open the heavy door with one hand.
‘Back so soon?’ The voice was a raw croak.
Tanal stepped into the chamber. ‘You have fouled yourself again. No matter – this is the last time, Janath Anar.’
‘Come to kill me, then. So be it. You should have done that long ago. I look forward to leaving this broken flesh. You cannot chain a ghost. And so, with my death, you shall become the prisoner. You shall be the one who is tormented. For as long as you live, and I do hope it is long, I shall whisper in your ear—’ She broke into a fit of coughing.
He walked closer, feeling emptied inside, his every determination stripped away by the vehemence in her words.
The manacles seemed to weep blood – she had been struggling against her fetters again. Dreaming of haunting me, of destroying me. How is she any different? How could I have expected her to be any different? ‘Look at you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Not even human any more – do you not care about your appearance, about how you want me to see you when I come here?’
‘You’re right,’ she said in a grating voice, ‘I should have waited until you arrived, until you came close. Then voided all over you. I’m sorry. I’m afraid my bowels are in bad shape right now – the muscles are weakening, inevitably.’
‘You’ll not haunt me, woman, your soul is too useless – the Abyss will sweep it away, I’m sure. Besides, I won’t kill you for a long while yet—’
‘I don’t think it’s up to you any more, Tanal Yathvanar.’
‘It’s all up to me!’ he shrieked. ‘All of it!’
He stalked over to her and began unshackling her arms, then her legs. She lost consciousness before he had freed her second wrist, and slid into a heap that almost snapped both her legs before he managed to work the manacles from her battered, torn ankles.
She weighed almost nothing, and he was able to move quickly, up twenty or so stairs, until he reached a side passage. The slimy cobble floor underfoot gradually sloped downward as he shambled along, the woman over one shoulder, the lantern swinging from his free hand. Rats scurried from his path, out to the sides where deep, narrow gutters had been cut by an almost constant flow of runoff.
Eventually, the drip of dark water from the curved ceiling overhead became a veritable rain. The droplets revived Janath momentarily, enough for her to moan, then cough for a half-dozen strides – he was thankful when she swooned once more, and the feeble clawing on his back ceased.
And now came the stench. Disappeared? Oh no, they are here. All of them. All the ones Karos Invictad didn’t like, didn’t need, wanted out of the way.
Into the first of the huge domed chambers with its stone walkway encircling a deep well, in which white-shelled crabs clambered amidst bones. This well was entirely filled, which is what had forced the opening of another, then another and another – there were so many of them, down here beneath the river.
Arriving at the last of the chambers, Tanal set her down, where he shackled one of her legs to the wall. On either side of her, she had company, although neither victim was alive. He stepped back as she stirred once more.
‘This is temporary,’ he said. ‘You won’t be joining your friends beside you. When I return – and it won’t be long – I will move you again. To a new cell, known to no-one but me. Where I will teach you to love me. You’ll see, Janath Anar. I am not the monster you believe me to be. Karos Invictad is the monster – he has twisted me, he has made me into what I am. But Karos Invictad is not a god. Not immortal. Not…infallible. As we shall all discover. He thinks I want her, that whore of the Emperor’s – that dirty, fallen bitch. He could not be more wrong. Oh, there’s so much to do now, but I promise I won’t be gone long. You’ll see, my love…’
She awoke to the sound of his footfalls, dwindling, then lost to the trickle and drip of water. It was dark, and cold, colder than it had ever been before – she was somewhere else now, some other crypt, but the same nightmare.
She lifted a hand – as best she could – and wiped at her face. Her hand came away slick with slime. Yet…the chains, they’re gone. She struggled to draw her limbs inward, then almost immediately heard the rattle of iron links snaking across stone. Ah, not completely.
And now pain arrived, in every joint, piercing fire. Ligaments and tendons, stretched for so long, now began contracting like burning ropes – oh, Errant take me—
Her eyes flickered open once more, and with returning consciousness she became aware of savage hunger, coiling in her shrunken stomach. Watery waste trickled loose.
There was no point in weeping. No point in wondering which of them was madder – him for his base appetites and senseless cruelty, or her for clinging so to this remnant of a life. A battle of wills, yet profoundly unequal – she knew that in her heart, had known it all along.
The succession of grand lectures she had devised in her mind all proved hollow conceits, their taste too bitter to bear. He had defeated her, because his were weapons without reason – and so I answered with my own madness. I thought it would work. Instead, I ended up surrendering all that I had that was of any worth.
And so now, the cold of death stealing over me, I can only dream of becoming a vengeful ghost, eager to torment the one who tormented me, eager to be to him as he was to me. Believing that such a balance was just, was righteous.
Madness. To give in kind is to be in kind.
So now, let me leave here, for ever gone—
And she felt that madness reach out to her, an embrace that would sweep away her sense of self, her knowledge of who she had been, once, that proud, smug academic with her pristine intellect ordering and reordering the world. Until even practicality was a quaint notion, not even worthy of discourse, because the world outside wasn’t worth reaching out to, not really – besides, it was sullied, wasn’t it? By men like Tanal Yathvanar and Karos Invictad – the ones who revelled in the filth they made, because only the stench of excess could reach through to their numbed senses—
—as it reaches through to mine. Listen! He returns, step by hesitant step—
A calloused hand settled on her brow.
Janath Anar opened her eyes.
Faint light, coming from every direction. Warm light, gentle as a breath. Looming above her was a face. Old, lined and weathered, with eyes deep as the seas, even as tears made them glisten.
She felt the chain being dragged close. Then the old man tugged with one hand and the links parted like rotted reeds. He reached down, then, and lifted her effortlessly.
Abyss, yours is such a gentle face…
Darkness, once more.
Beneath the bed of the river, below silts almost a storey thick, rested the remains of almost sixteen thousand citizens of Letheras. Their bones filled ancient wells that had been drilled before the river’s arrival – before the drainage course from the far eastern mountains changed cataclysmically, making the serpent lash its tail, the torrent carving a new channel, one that inundated a nascent city countless millennia ago.
Letherii engineers centuries past had stumbled upon these submerged constructs, wondering at the humped corridors and the domed chambers, wondering at the huge, deep wells with their clear, cold water. And baffled to explain how such tunnels remained more or less dry, the cut channels seeming to absorb water like runners of sponge.
No records existed any more recounting these discoveries – the tunnels and chambers and wells were lost knowledge to all but a chosen few. And of the existence of parallel passages, the hidden doors in the walls of corridors, and the hundreds of lesser tombs, not even those few were aware. Certain secrets belonged exclusively to the gods.
The Elder God carried the starved, brutalized woman into one of those side passages, the cantilevered door swinging shut noiselessly behind him. In his mind there was recrimination, a seething torrent of anger at himself. He had not imagined the full extent of depravity and slaughter conducted by the Patriotists, and he was sorely tempted to awaken himself, unleashing his fullest wrath upon these unmitigated sadists.
Of course, that would lead to unwarranted attention, which would no doubt result in yet greater slaughter, and one that made no distinction between those who deserved death and those who did not. This was the curse of power, after all.
As, he well knew, Karos Invictad would soon discover.
You fool, Invigilator. Who has turned his deadly regard upon you? Deadly, oh my, yes indeed.
Though few might comprehend that, given the modestly handsome, thoroughly benign features surrounding that face.
Even so, Karos Invictad. Tehol Beddict has decided that you must go.
And I almost pity you.
Tehol Beddict was on his knees on the dirt floor of the hovel, rummaging through a small heap of debris, when he heard a scuffling sound at the doorway. He glanced over a shoulder. ‘Ublala Pung, good evening, my friend.’
The huge half-blood Tarthenal edged into the chamber, hunching beneath the low ceiling. ‘What are you doing?’
‘A wooden spoon – or at least the fragment thereof. Employed in a central role in the preparation of this morning’s meal. I dread the possibility that Bugg tossed it into the hearth. Ah! Here, see that? A curdle of fat remains on it!’
‘Looks like dirt to me, Tehol Beddict.’
‘Well, even dirt has flavour,’ he replied, crawling over to the pot simmering on the hearth. ‘Finally, my soup acquires subtle sumptuousness. Can you believe this, Ublala Pung? Look at me, reduced to menial chores, even unto preparing my own meals! I tell you, my manservant’s head has grown too large by far. He rises above his station, does Bugg. Perhaps you could box him about the ears for me. Now, I am not as indifferent as you think – there is the glow of heightened excitement in your rather blunt, dogged features. What has happened? Has Shurq Elalle returned, then?’
‘Would I be here if she had?’ Ublala asked. ‘No, Tehol Beddict. She is gone. Out to the seas, with all her pirated young men. I was too big, you see. I had to sleep on the deck, no matter the weather, and that was no fun – and those pirates, they kept wanting to tie sails to me, laughing as if that was funny or something.’
‘Ah well, sailors have simple minds, friend. And pirates are failed sailors, mostly, taking simpledom to profound extremes—’
‘What? I have news, you know.’
‘Do you now?’
‘I do.’
‘Can I hear it?’
‘Do you want to?’
‘Why yes, else I would not have asked.’
‘Really want to?’
‘Look, if you’re not interested in telling me—’
‘No, I’m interested. In telling you. That is why I’m here, although I will have some of that soup if you’re offering.’
‘Ublala Pung, you are most welcome to this soup, but first let me fish out this rag I fed into the broth, lest you choke or something.’
‘Rag? What kind of rag?’
‘Well, squarish, mostly. I believe it was used to wipe down a kitchen counter, thereby absorbing countless assorted foodstuffs.’
‘Tehol Beddict, one of the pure blood has come to the city.’
‘Is that your news?’
The huge man nodded solemnly.
‘Pure blood?’
Another nod.
‘So, a Tarthenal—’
‘No,’ Ublala Pung cut in. ‘Pure blood. Purer than any Tarthenal. And he carries a stone sword. On his face are the most terrifying tattoos, like a shattered tile. He is greatly scarred and countless ghosts swirl in his wake—’
‘Ghosts? You could see ghosts following him around?’
‘See them? Of course not. But I smelled them.’
‘Really? So what do ghosts smell like? Never mind. A Tarthenal who’s more Tarthenal than any Tarthenal has arrived in the city. What does he want?’
‘You do not understand, Tehol Beddict. He is a champion. He is here to challenge the Emperor.’
‘Oh, the poor man.’
‘Yes. The poor man, but he’s not a man, is he? He’s a Tiste Edur.’
Tehol Beddict frowned across at Ublala Pung. ‘Ah, we were speaking of two different poor men. Well, a short time earlier a runner from Rucket visited – it seems Scale House collapsed during that earthquake. But it was not your normal earthquake, such as never occurs around here anyway. Ublala Pung, there is another champion, one far more frightening than any pure blood Tarthenal. There is great consternation among the Rat Catchers, all of whom seem to know more than they’re letting on. The view seems to be that this time the Emperor’s search has drawn in a most deadly haul.’
‘Well, I don’t know nothing about that,’ Ublala Pung said, rubbing thoughtfully at the bristle on his chin. ‘Only, this pure blood has a stone sword. Chipped, like those old spear-points people are selling in the Downs Market. It’s almost as tall as he is, and he’s taller than me. I saw him pick up a Letherii guard and throw him away.’
‘Throw him away?’
‘Like a small sack of…of mushrooms or something.’
‘So his temper is even worse than yours, then.’
‘Pure bloods know no fear.’
‘Right. So how is it you know about pure bloods?’
‘The Sereghal. Our gods, the ones I helped to kill, they were fallen pure bloods. Cast out.’
‘So the one who has just arrived, he’s the equivalent of one of your gods, Ublala Pung? Please, don’t tell me you’re planning on trying to kill him. I mean, he has a stone sword and all.’
‘Kill him? No, you don’t understand, Tehol Beddict. This one, this pure blood, he is worthy of true worship. Not the way we appeased the Sereghal – that was to keep them away. Wait and see, wait and see what is going to happen. My kin will gather, once the word spreads. They will gather.’
