‘Physically, yes, but it knows its mother’s hunger. This will be… difficult. I know, you do not deserve any of this, Fear-’
‘Perhaps, Rhulad, but I will accept the burden. For Mayen. And for you.’
No-one spoke after that, not for some time. They drank their wine, and it seemed to Trull that something was present, some part of his life he’d thought – not long gone, but non-existent in the first place. They sat, the three of them. Brothers, and nothing more.
Night descended outside. Udinaas served food and still more wine. Some time later, Trull rose, the alcohol softening details, and wandered through the chambers of the tent, his departure barely noticed by
Rhulad and Fear.
In a small room walled in by canvas, he found Udinaas.
The slave was sitting on a small stool, eating his own supper. He looked up in surprise at Trull’s sudden arrival.
‘Please,’ Trull said, ‘resume your meal. You have earned it, Udinaas.’
‘Is there something you wish of me, Trull Sengar?’
‘No. Yes. What have you done?’
The slave cocked his head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘With… him. What have you done, Udinaas?’
‘Not much, Trull Sengar.’
‘No, I need an answer. What are you to him?’
Udinaas set down his plate, drank a mouthful of wine. ‘A subject who’s not afraid of him, I suppose.’
‘That’s… all? Wait, yes, I see. But then I wonder, why? Why are you not afraid of him?’
Udinaas sighed, and Trull realized how exhausted the slave was. ‘You, all the Edur, you see the sword. Or the gold. You see… the power. The terrifying, brutal power.’ He shrugged. ‘I see what it takes from him, what it costs Rhulad. I am Letherii, after all,’ he added with a grimace. ‘I understand the notion of debt.’ He looked up. ‘Trull Sengar, I am his friend. That is all.’
Trull studied the slave for a half-dozen heartbeats. ‘Never betray him, Udinaas. Never.’
The Letherii’s gaze skittered away. He drank more wine.
‘Udinaas-’
‘I heard you,’ the man said in a grating voice.
Trull turned to leave. Then he paused and glanced back. ‘I have no wish to depart on such terms. So, Udinaas, for what you have done, for what you have given him, thank you.’
The slave nodded without looking up. He reached down to retrieve his plate.
Trull returned to the central chamber to find that Hannan Mosag had arrived, and was speaking to Rhulad.
‘… Hull believes it lies near a town downriver from here. A day’s journey, perhaps. But, Emperor, a necessary journey none the less.’
Rhulad looked away, glared at the far wall. ‘The armies must go on. To Brans Keep. No delays, no detours. I will go, and Fear and Trull as well. Hull Beddict, to guide us. Udinaas, of course.’
‘A K’risnan,’ the Warlock King said, ‘and our new demonic allies, the two Kenryll’ah.’
‘Very well, those as well. We shall meet you at Brans Keep.’
‘What is it?’ Trull asked. ‘What has happened?’
‘Something has been freed,’ Hannan Mosag said. ‘And it must be dealt with.’
‘Freed by whom, and for what purpose?’
The Warlock King shrugged. ‘I know not who was responsible. But I assume it was freed to fight us.’
‘A demon of some sort?’
Yes. I can only sense its presence, its will. I cannot identify it. The town is named Brous.’
Trull slowly nodded. ‘Would that Binadas were with us,’ he said.
Rhulad glanced up. ‘Why?’
Trull smiled, said nothing.
After a moment, Fear grunted, then nodded.
Rhulad matched Trull’s smile. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘would that he were.’
Hannan Mosag looked at the three of them in turn. ‘I do not understand.’
The emperor’s laugh was harsh, only slightly bitter. ‘You send us or another quest, Warlock King.’
Hannan Mosag visibly blanched.
Seeing that, Rhulad laughed again, this time in pure amusement.
After a moment, both Fear and Trull joined him, whilst Hannan Mosag stared at them all in disbelief.
They had drunk too much wine, Trull told himself later. That was all. Far too much wine.
Seren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen guided their horses down from the road, across the ditch, and drew rein at the edge of a green field. The vanguard of the Merchants’ Battalion had emerged from the city’s gates, and the Acquitor could see Preda Unnutal Hebaz at the forefront, riding a blue-grey horse, white-maned, that tossed its head in irritation, hooves stamping with impatience.
