Neither replied.

There were four compartments within, divided by thick-clothed walls fixed to free-standing bronze frames. The foremost chamber was shallow but ran the breadth of the tent. Benches had been placed along the sides. The area to the right was crowded with supplies of various sorts, casks and crates and earthen jars. Passage into the main room beyond was between two dividers.

He entered to see the emperor standing before his raised throne. Mayen lounged on a looted couch to the left of the wooden dais, her expression strangely dulled. Feather Witch stood in the shadows against the wall behind the empress, her face swollen and bruised almost beyond recognition. Hannan Mosag and Hull Beddict were facing the emperor, their backs to Udinaas. The Warlock King’s wraith bodyguard was not present.

Hannan Mosag was speaking. ‘… of that there is no doubt, sire.’

Coins had fallen from Rhulad’s forehead, where the soldier’s palm had struck when it broke his neck. The skin revealed was naught but scar tissue, creased where the skull’s frontal bone had caved inward – that internal damage had healed, since the dent was now gone. The emperor’s eyes were so bloodshot they seemed nothing but murky red pools. He studied Hannan Mosag for a moment, apparently unaware of the spasms crossing his ravaged features, then said, ‘Lost kin? What does that mean?’

‘Tiste Edur,’ Hannan Mosag replied in his smooth voice. ‘Survivors, from when our kind were scattered, following the loss of Scabandari Bloodeye.’

‘How are you certain of this?’

‘I have dreamed them, Emperor. In my mind I have been led into other realms, other worlds that lie alongside this one-’

‘Kurald Emurlahn.’

‘That realm is broken in pieces,’ Hannan Mosag said, ‘but yes, I have seen fragment-worlds. In one such world dwell the Kenyll’rah, the demons we have bound to us. In another, there are ghosts from our past battles.’

Hull Beddict cleared his throat. ‘Warlock King, are these realms the Holds of my people?’

‘Perhaps, but I think not.’

‘That is not relevant,’ Rhulad said to Hull as he began pacing. ‘Hannan Mosag, how fare these lost kin?’

‘Poorly, sire. Some have lost all memory of past greatness. Others are subjugated-’

The emperor’s head swung round. ‘Subjugated?’

‘Yes.’

‘We must deliver them,’ Rhulad said, resuming his pacing, the macabre clicking sounds of coin edges snapping together the only sound to follow his pronouncement.

Udinaas moved unobtrusively to stand behind the throne. There was something pathetic, to his mind, about the ease with which the Warlock King manipulated Rhulad. Beneath all those coins and behind that mottled sword was a marred and fragile Edur youth. Hannan Mosag might have surrendered the throne in the face of Rhulad’s power, but he would not relinquish his ambition to rule.

‘We will build ships,’ the emperor resumed after a time. ‘In the Letherii style, I think. Large, seaworthy. You said there were Tiste Andii enclaves as well? We will conquer them, use them as slaves to crew our ships. We shall undertake these journeys once Lether has fallen, once our empire is won.’

‘Sire, the other realms I spoke of – some will allow us to hasten our passage. There are… gateways. I am seeking the means of opening them, controlling them. Provided there are seas, in those hidden worlds, we can achieve swift travel-’

‘Seas?’ Rhulad laughed. ‘If there are no seas, Hannan Mosag, then you shall make them!’

‘Sire?’

‘Open one realm upon another. An ocean realm, released into a desert realm.’

The Warlock King’s eyes widened slightly. ‘The devastation would be… terrible.’

‘Cleansing, you mean to say. After all, why should the Edur empire confine itself to one world? You must shift your focus, Hannan Mosag. You are too limited in your vision.’ He paused, winced at some inner tremor, then continued in a strained tone, ‘It is what comes of power. Yes, what comes. To see the vastness of… things. Potentials, the multitude of opportunities. Who can stand before us, after all?’ He spun round. ‘Udinaas! Where have you been?’

‘At the harbour front, Emperor.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Watching the sharks feeding.’

‘Hah! You hear that, Hannan Mosag? Hull Beddict? He is a cold one, is he not? This slave of ours. We chose well indeed. Tell us, Udinaas, do you believe in these secret realms?’

‘Are we blind to hidden truths, Emperor? I cannot believe otherwise.’

A start from Hannan Mosag, his eyes narrowing.

Mayen suddenly spoke, in a low drawl. ‘Feather Witch says this one is possessed.’

No-one spoke for a half-dozen heartbeats. Rhulad slowly approached Udinaas. ‘Possessed? By what, Mayen? Did your slave yield that detail?’

‘The Wyval. Do you not recall that event?’

Hannan Mosag said, ‘Uruth Sengar examined him, Empress.’

‘So she did. And found nothing. No poison in his blood.’

Rhulad’s eyes searched his slave’s face. ‘Udinaas?’

‘I am as you see me, master. If there is a poison within me, I am not aware of it. Mistress Uruth seemed certain of her conclusion, else she would have killed me then.’

‘Then why should Feather Witch make such accusations?’

Udinaas shrugged. ‘Perhaps she seeks to deflect attention so as to lessen the severity of the beatings.’

Rhulad stared at him a moment, then swung round. ‘Beatings? There have been no beatings. An errant sorcerous attack…’

‘Now who is seeking to deflect attention?’ Mayen said, smiling. ‘You will take the word of a slave over that of your wife?’

The emperor seemed to falter. ‘Of course not, Mayen.’ He looked across to Hannan Mosag. ‘What say you?’

The Warlock King’s innocent frown managed the perfect balance of concern and confusion. ‘Which matter would you have me speak of, sire? The presence of Wyval poison within this Udinaas, or the fact that your wife is beating her slave?’

Mayen’s laughter was harsh. ‘Oh, Rhulad, I really did not think you believed me. My slave has been irritating me. Indeed, I am of a mind to find another, one less clumsy, less… disapproving. As if a slave has the right to disapprove of anything.’

‘Disapprove?’ the emperor asked. ‘What… why?’

‘Does a Wyval hide within Udinaas or not?’ Mayen demanded, sitting straighten ‘Examine the slave, Hannan Mosag.’

‘Who rules here?’ Rhulad’s shriek froze everyone. The emperor’s sword had risen, the blade shivering as shudders rolled through him. ‘You would all play games with us?’

Mayen shrank back on the divan, eyes slowly widening in raw fear.

The emperor’s fierce gaze was fixing on her, then the Warlock King, then back again. ‘Everyone out,’ Rhulad whispered. ‘Everyone but Udinaas. Now.’

Hannan Mosag opened his mouth to object, then changed his mind. Hull Beddict trailing, the Warlock King strode from the tent. Mayen, wrapping herself in the silk-stitched blanket from the couch, hurried in their wake, Feather Witch stumbling a step behind.

‘Wife.’

She halted.

‘The family of the Sengar have never believed there was value in beating slaves. You will cease. If she is incompetent, then find another. Am I understood?’

‘Yes, sire,’ she said.

‘Leave us.’

As soon as they were gone, Rhulad lowered the sword and studied Udinaas for a time. ‘We are not blind to all those who would seek advantage. The Warlock King sees us as too young, too ignorant, but he knows nothing of the truths we have seen. Mayen – she is as a dead thing beneath me. We should have left her to Fear. That was a mistake.’ He blinked, as if recovering himself, then regarded Udinaas with open suspicion. ‘And you, slave. What secrets do you hide?’

Udinaas lowered himself to one knee, said nothing.

‘Nothing will be hidden from us,’ Rhulad said. ‘Look up, Udinaas.’

He did, and saw a wraith crouched at his side.