A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3 by Steven Erikson Page B
Authors: Steven Erikson
Ads: Link
brusque countermand. 'Dear Unnutal Hebaz, you rise far above your station.'
'The presumption is not mine, Queen. The Royal Guard answer to the king and no-one else.'
'Well, forgive me if I delight in challenging that antiquated conceit.' Janall fluttered one thin hand. 'Strengths are ever at risk of becoming weaknesses.' She stepped close to her son. 'Heed your mother's advice, Quillas. It was folly to cut at the Preda's pedestal, for it has not yet turned to sand. Patience, beloved one.'
The Chancellor sighed. 'The queen's advice—'
'Is due respect,' Quillas mimed. 'As you will, then. As you all will. Moroch!'
Bodyguard trailing, the prince strode from the chamber.
The queen's smile was tender as she said, 'Preda Unnutal Hebaz, we beg your forgiveness. This meeting was not of our choice, but my son insisted. From the moment our procession began, the Chancellor and I both sought to dissuade him.'
'To no avail,' the Chancellor said, sighing once more.
The Preda's expression did not change. 'Are we done?'
Queen Janall wagged a single finger in mute warning, then gestured to her First Consort, slipping her arm through his as they left.
Triban Gnol remained a moment longer. 'My congratulations, Preda,' he said. 'Finadd Gerun Eberict was an exquisite choice.'
Unnutal Hebaz said nothing.
Five heartbeats later and she and Brys were alone in the chamber.
The Preda turned. 'Your speed, Champion, never fails to take my breath away. I did not hear you, only ... anticipated. Had I not, Moroch would now be dead.'
'Possibly, Preda. If only because he had dismissed my presence.'
'And Quillas would have only himself to blame.'
Brys said nothing.
'I should not have halted you.'
He watched her leave.
Gerun Eberict, you poor bastard.
Recalling that the Ceda wanted him, Brys swung about and strode from the chamber.
Leaving behind no blood.
And he knew that Kuru Qan would hear the relief in his every step.
The Ceda had been waiting outside his door, seemingly intent on practising a dance step, when Brys arrived.
'A few fraught moments?' Kuru Qan asked without looking up. 'Unimportant. For now. Come.'
Fifty paces on, down stone steps, along dusty corridors, and Brys guessed at their destination. He felt his heart sinking. A place he had heard of, but one he had yet to visit. It seemed the King's Champion was permitted to walk where a lowly Finadd was not. This time, however, the privilege was suspect.
They came to a pair of massive copper-sheathed doors. Green and rumpled with moss, they were bare of markings and showed no locking mechanism. The Ceda leaned on them and they parted with a grinding squeal.
Beyond rose narrow steps, leading to a walkway suspended knee-high above the floor by chains that reached down from the ceiling. The room was circular, and in the floor were set luminous tiles forming a spiral. The walkway ended at a platform in the chamber's centre.
'Trepidation, Finadd? Well deserved.' Gesturing, Kuru Qan led Brys onto the walkway.
It swayed alarmingly.
'The striving for balance is made manifest,' the Ceda said, arms held out to the sides. 'One's steps must needs find the proper rhythm. Important, and difficult for all that there are two of us. No, do not look down upon the tiles – we are not yet ready. To the platform first. Here we are. Stand at my side, Finadd. Look with me upon the first tile of the spiral. What do you see?'
Brys studied the glowing tile. It was large, not quite square. Two spans of a spread hand in length, slightly less so in width.
The Holds. The Cedance. Kuru Qan's chamber of divination. Throughout Letheras there were casters of the tiles, readers of the Holds. Of course, their representations were small, like flattened dice. Only the King's Sorceror possessed tiles such as these. With ever-shifting faces. 'I see a barrow in a yard.'
'Ah, then you see truly. Good. An unhinged mind would reveal itself at this moment, its vision poisoned with fear and malice. Barrow, third
'The presumption is not mine, Queen. The Royal Guard answer to the king and no-one else.'
'Well, forgive me if I delight in challenging that antiquated conceit.' Janall fluttered one thin hand. 'Strengths are ever at risk of becoming weaknesses.' She stepped close to her son. 'Heed your mother's advice, Quillas. It was folly to cut at the Preda's pedestal, for it has not yet turned to sand. Patience, beloved one.'
The Chancellor sighed. 'The queen's advice—'
'Is due respect,' Quillas mimed. 'As you will, then. As you all will. Moroch!'
Bodyguard trailing, the prince strode from the chamber.
The queen's smile was tender as she said, 'Preda Unnutal Hebaz, we beg your forgiveness. This meeting was not of our choice, but my son insisted. From the moment our procession began, the Chancellor and I both sought to dissuade him.'
'To no avail,' the Chancellor said, sighing once more.
The Preda's expression did not change. 'Are we done?'
Queen Janall wagged a single finger in mute warning, then gestured to her First Consort, slipping her arm through his as they left.
Triban Gnol remained a moment longer. 'My congratulations, Preda,' he said. 'Finadd Gerun Eberict was an exquisite choice.'
Unnutal Hebaz said nothing.
Five heartbeats later and she and Brys were alone in the chamber.
The Preda turned. 'Your speed, Champion, never fails to take my breath away. I did not hear you, only ... anticipated. Had I not, Moroch would now be dead.'
'Possibly, Preda. If only because he had dismissed my presence.'
'And Quillas would have only himself to blame.'
Brys said nothing.
'I should not have halted you.'
He watched her leave.
Gerun Eberict, you poor bastard.
Recalling that the Ceda wanted him, Brys swung about and strode from the chamber.
Leaving behind no blood.
And he knew that Kuru Qan would hear the relief in his every step.
The Ceda had been waiting outside his door, seemingly intent on practising a dance step, when Brys arrived.
'A few fraught moments?' Kuru Qan asked without looking up. 'Unimportant. For now. Come.'
Fifty paces on, down stone steps, along dusty corridors, and Brys guessed at their destination. He felt his heart sinking. A place he had heard of, but one he had yet to visit. It seemed the King's Champion was permitted to walk where a lowly Finadd was not. This time, however, the privilege was suspect.
They came to a pair of massive copper-sheathed doors. Green and rumpled with moss, they were bare of markings and showed no locking mechanism. The Ceda leaned on them and they parted with a grinding squeal.
Beyond rose narrow steps, leading to a walkway suspended knee-high above the floor by chains that reached down from the ceiling. The room was circular, and in the floor were set luminous tiles forming a spiral. The walkway ended at a platform in the chamber's centre.
'Trepidation, Finadd? Well deserved.' Gesturing, Kuru Qan led Brys onto the walkway.
It swayed alarmingly.
'The striving for balance is made manifest,' the Ceda said, arms held out to the sides. 'One's steps must needs find the proper rhythm. Important, and difficult for all that there are two of us. No, do not look down upon the tiles – we are not yet ready. To the platform first. Here we are. Stand at my side, Finadd. Look with me upon the first tile of the spiral. What do you see?'
Brys studied the glowing tile. It was large, not quite square. Two spans of a spread hand in length, slightly less so in width.
The Holds. The Cedance. Kuru Qan's chamber of divination. Throughout Letheras there were casters of the tiles, readers of the Holds. Of course, their representations were small, like flattened dice. Only the King's Sorceror possessed tiles such as these. With ever-shifting faces. 'I see a barrow in a yard.'
'Ah, then you see truly. Good. An unhinged mind would reveal itself at this moment, its vision poisoned with fear and malice. Barrow, third
Similar Books
