A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3 by Steven Erikson Page A
Authors: Steven Erikson
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power to the Eternal Domicile, now that the leaks in its lofty roof had been corrected. A few trappings remained, including the ancient rug approaching the dais, and the stylized gateway arching over the place where the throne had once stood.
When Brys arrived, only his old commander, Preda Unnutal Hebaz, was present. As always, a dominating figure, no matter how exalted her surroundings. She stood taller than most women, nearly Brys's own height. Fair-skinned, with a burnished cast to her blonde hair yet eyes of a dark hazel, she turned to face him at his approach. In her fortieth year, she was none the less possessed of extraordinary beauty that the weather lines only enhanced.
'Finadd Beddict, you are late.'
'Impromptu audiences with the First Eunuch and the Ceda—'
'We have but a few moments,' she interrupted. 'Take your place along the wall, as would a guard. They might recognize you, or they might assume you are but one of my underlings, especially given the poor light now that the sconces have been taken down. Either way, you are to stand at attention and say nothing.'
Frowning, Brys strode to his old guard's niche, turned about to face the chamber, then edged back into the shadows until hard stone pressed against his shoulders. He saw the Preda studying him for a moment, then she nodded and swung to face the doorway at the far corner of the wall behind the dais.
Ah, this meeting belongs to the other side ...
The door slammed open to the gauntleted hand of a Prince's Guardsman, and the helmed, armoured figure of that man strode warily into the chamber. His sword was still in its scabbard, but Brys knew that Moroch Nevath could draw it in a single beat of a heart. He knew, also, that 'Moroch had been the prince's own candidate for King's Champion. And well deserved too. Moroch Nevath not only possesses the skill, he also has the presence ... And, although that bold manner irritated Brys in some indefinable way, he found himself envying it as well.
The Prince's Guard studied the chamber, fixing here and there on shadowed recesses, including the one wherein Brys stood – but it was a momentary thing, seeming only to acknowledge the presence of one of the Preda's guards – and Moroch finally settled his attention on Unnutal Hebaz.
A single nod of acknowledgement, then Moroch stepped to one side.
Prince Quillas Diskanar entered. Behind him came Chancellor Triban Gnol. Then, two figures that made Brys start. Queen Janall and her First Consort, Turudal Brizad.
By the Errant, the entire squalid nest.
Quillas bared his teeth at Unnutal Hebaz as would a dog at the end of his chain. 'You have released Finadd Gerun Eberict to Nifadas's entourage. I want him taken back, Preda. Choose someone else.'
Unnutal's tone was calm. 'Gerun Eberict's competence is above reproach, Prince Quillas. I am informed that the First Eunuch is pleased with the selection.'
Chancellor Triban Gnol spoke in an equally reasonable voice. 'Your prince believes otherwise, Preda. It behoves you to accord that opinion due respect.'
'The prince's beliefs are his own concern. I am charged by his father, the king, in this matter. Regarding what I do and do not respect, Chancellor, I strongly suggest you retract your challenge.'
Moroch Nevath growled and stepped forward.
The Preda's hand snapped out – not to the Prince's Guardsman, but towards the niche where Brys stood, halting him a half-stride from his position. The sword was already in his hand, and its freeing from the scabbard had been as silent as it had been fast.
Moroch's gaze flashed to Brys, the startled expression giving way to recognition. The man's own sword was but halfway out of its scabbard.
A dry chuckle from the queen. 'Ah, the Preda's decision for but one guard is ... explained. Step forward, if you please, Champion.'
'That will not be necessary,' Unnutal said.
Brys nodded and slowly stepped back, sheathing his sword as he did so.
Queen Janall's brows rose at the Preda's
When Brys arrived, only his old commander, Preda Unnutal Hebaz, was present. As always, a dominating figure, no matter how exalted her surroundings. She stood taller than most women, nearly Brys's own height. Fair-skinned, with a burnished cast to her blonde hair yet eyes of a dark hazel, she turned to face him at his approach. In her fortieth year, she was none the less possessed of extraordinary beauty that the weather lines only enhanced.
'Finadd Beddict, you are late.'
'Impromptu audiences with the First Eunuch and the Ceda—'
'We have but a few moments,' she interrupted. 'Take your place along the wall, as would a guard. They might recognize you, or they might assume you are but one of my underlings, especially given the poor light now that the sconces have been taken down. Either way, you are to stand at attention and say nothing.'
Frowning, Brys strode to his old guard's niche, turned about to face the chamber, then edged back into the shadows until hard stone pressed against his shoulders. He saw the Preda studying him for a moment, then she nodded and swung to face the doorway at the far corner of the wall behind the dais.
Ah, this meeting belongs to the other side ...
The door slammed open to the gauntleted hand of a Prince's Guardsman, and the helmed, armoured figure of that man strode warily into the chamber. His sword was still in its scabbard, but Brys knew that Moroch Nevath could draw it in a single beat of a heart. He knew, also, that 'Moroch had been the prince's own candidate for King's Champion. And well deserved too. Moroch Nevath not only possesses the skill, he also has the presence ... And, although that bold manner irritated Brys in some indefinable way, he found himself envying it as well.
The Prince's Guard studied the chamber, fixing here and there on shadowed recesses, including the one wherein Brys stood – but it was a momentary thing, seeming only to acknowledge the presence of one of the Preda's guards – and Moroch finally settled his attention on Unnutal Hebaz.
A single nod of acknowledgement, then Moroch stepped to one side.
Prince Quillas Diskanar entered. Behind him came Chancellor Triban Gnol. Then, two figures that made Brys start. Queen Janall and her First Consort, Turudal Brizad.
By the Errant, the entire squalid nest.
Quillas bared his teeth at Unnutal Hebaz as would a dog at the end of his chain. 'You have released Finadd Gerun Eberict to Nifadas's entourage. I want him taken back, Preda. Choose someone else.'
Unnutal's tone was calm. 'Gerun Eberict's competence is above reproach, Prince Quillas. I am informed that the First Eunuch is pleased with the selection.'
Chancellor Triban Gnol spoke in an equally reasonable voice. 'Your prince believes otherwise, Preda. It behoves you to accord that opinion due respect.'
'The prince's beliefs are his own concern. I am charged by his father, the king, in this matter. Regarding what I do and do not respect, Chancellor, I strongly suggest you retract your challenge.'
Moroch Nevath growled and stepped forward.
The Preda's hand snapped out – not to the Prince's Guardsman, but towards the niche where Brys stood, halting him a half-stride from his position. The sword was already in his hand, and its freeing from the scabbard had been as silent as it had been fast.
Moroch's gaze flashed to Brys, the startled expression giving way to recognition. The man's own sword was but halfway out of its scabbard.
A dry chuckle from the queen. 'Ah, the Preda's decision for but one guard is ... explained. Step forward, if you please, Champion.'
'That will not be necessary,' Unnutal said.
Brys nodded and slowly stepped back, sheathing his sword as he did so.
Queen Janall's brows rose at the Preda's
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