Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,10

know of that?'

Fear was at his side now, and Trull sensed his shrug. 'Visions have guided the Warlock King since he was a child,' Fear said after a moment. 'He carries blood memories all the way back to the Dark Times. Father Shadow stretches before him with every stride he takes.'

The notion of visions made Trull uneasy. He did not doubt their power – in fact, the very opposite. The Dark Times had come with the rivening of Tiste Edur, the assault of sorceries and strange armies and the disappearance of Father Shadow himself. And, although the magic of Kurald Emurlahn was not denied to the tribes, the warren was lost to them: shattered, the fragments ruled by false kings and gods. Trull suspected that Hannan Mosag possessed an ambition far vaster than simply unifying the six tribes.

'There is reluctance in you, Trull. You hide it well enough, but I can see where others cannot. You are a warrior who would rather not fight.'

'That is not a crime,' Trull muttered, then he added: 'Of all the Sengar, only you and Father carry more trophies.'

'I was not questioning your bravery, brother. But courage is the least of that which binds us. We are Edur. We were masters of the Hounds, once. We held the throne of Kurald Emurlahn. And would hold it still, if not for betrayal, first by the kin of Scabandari Bloodeye, then by the Tiste Andii who came with us to this world. We are a beset people, Trull. The Letherii are but one enemy among many. The Warlock King understands this.'

Trull studied the glimmer of starlight on the placid surface of the bay. 'I will not hesitate in fighting those who would be our enemies, Fear.'

'That is good, brother. It is enough to keep Rhulad silent, then.'

Trull stiffened. 'He speaks against me? That unblooded ... pup?'

'Where he sees weakness ...'

'What he sees and what is true are different things,' Trull said.

'Then show him otherwise,' Fear said in his low, calm voice.

Trull was silent. He had been openly dismissive of Rhulad and his endless challenges and postures, as was his right given that Rhulad was unblooded. But more significantly, Trull's reasons were raised like a protective wall around the maiden that Fear was to wed. Of course, to voice such things now would be unseemly, whispering as they would of spite and malice. After all, Mayen was Fear's betrothed, not Trull's, and her protection was Fear's responsibility.

Things would be simpler, he ruefully reflected, if he had a sense of Mayen herself. She did not invite Rhulad's attention, but nor did she turn a shoulder to it. She walked the cliff-edge of propriety, as self-assured as any maiden would – and should – be when privileged to become the wife of the Hiroth's Weapons Master. It was not, he told himself once again, any of his business. 'I will not show Rhulad what he should already see,' Trull growled. 'He has done nothing to warrant the gift of my regard.'

'Rhulad lacks the subtlety to see your reluctance as anything but weakness—'

'His failing, not mine!'

'Do you expect a blind elder to cross a stream's stepping stones unaided, Trull? No, you guide him until in his mind's eye he finally sees that which everyone else can see.'

'If everyone else can see,' Trull replied, 'then Rhulad's words against me are powerless, and so I am right to ignore them.'

'Brother, Rhulad is not alone in lacking subtlety.'

'Is it your wish, Fear, that there be enemies among the sons of Tomad Sengar?'

'Rhulad is not an enemy, not of you nor of any other Edur. He is young and eager for blood. You once walked his path, so I ask that you remember yourself back then. This is not the time to deliver wounds sure to scar. And, to an unblooded warrior, disdain delivers the deepest wound of all.'

Trull grimaced. 'I see the truth of that, Fear. I shall endeavour to curtail my indifference.'

His brother did not react to the sarcasm. 'The council is gathering in the citadel, brother. Will you enter the King's Hall at my side?'

Trull relented. 'I am honoured, Fear.'

They turned away from the black water, and so did not see the pale-winged shape gliding over the lazy waves a short distance offshore.

Thirteen years ago Udinaas had been a young sailor in the third year of his family's indenture to the merchant Intaros of Trate, the northernmost city of Lether. He was aboard the whaler Brunt and on the return run from