Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,196

he might not even be your father yet. She wanders time, Kettle, in a manner no-one else can even understand, much less emulate. And this is very much her world. She is the fire that never dies.' He paused, then said, 'She will choose – or has chosen – with great deliberation. Your father was, is, or will be someone of great importance.'

'So how many souls are in me?'

'Two, sharing the flesh and bone of a child corpse. Lass, we shall have to find a way to get you out of that body, eventually.'

'Why?'

'Because you deserve something better.'

'I want to go back. Will you take me back now?'

'I've given up on the eel itself,' Bugg said, ladling out the soup. 'It's still too tough.'

'None the less, my dear manservant, it smells wonderful.'

'That would be the wine. Courtesy of Chief Investigator Rucket, whose request for a meeting with you was for purposes not entirely professional.'

'And how did you fare on my behalf?'

'I ensured that her interest in you only deepened, master.'

'By way of contrast?'

'Indeed.'

'Well, is that a good thing? I mean, she's rather frightening.'

'You don't know the half of it. Even so, she is exceptionally clever.'

'Oh, I don't like that at all, Bugg. You know, I am tasting something fishy. A hint, anyway. Just how dried up was this eel you found?'

The manservant probed with his ladle and lifted the mentioned object into view. Black, wrinkled and not nearly as limp as it should have been.

Tehol leaned closer and studied it for a moment. 'Bugg...'

'Yes, master?'

'That's the sole of a sandal.'

'It is? Oh. I was wondering why it was flatter at one end than the other.'

Tehol settled back and took another sip. 'Still fishy, though. One might assume the wearer, being in the fish market, stepped on an eel, before the loss of his or her sole.'

'I am mildly disturbed by the thought of what else he or she might have stepped in.'

'There are indeed complexities on the palate, suggesting a varied and lengthy history. Now, how was your day and the subsequent evening?'

'Uneventful. Rucket informs me that Gerun Eberict has killed about three thousand citizens this year.'

'Three thousand? That seems somewhat excessive.'

'I thought so, too, master. More soup?'

'Yes, thank you. So, what is his problem, do you think?'

'Gerun's? A taste for blood, I'd wager.'

'As simple as that? How egregious. We'll have to do something about it, I think.'

'And how was your day and evening, master?'

'Busy. Exhausting, even.'

'You were on the roof?'

'Yes, mostly. Although, as I recall, I came down here once. Can't remember why. Or, rather, I couldn't at the time, so I went back up.'

Bugg tilted his head. 'Someone's approaching our door.'

The sound of boots in the alley, the faint whisper of armour.

'My brother, I'd hazard,' Tehol said, then, turning to face the curtained doorway, he raised his voice. 'Brys, do come in.'

The hanging was pulled aside and Brys entered. 'Well, that is an interesting smell,' he said.

'Sole soup,' Tehol said. 'Would you like some?'

'No, thank you. I have already eaten, it being well after the second bell. I trust you have heard the rumours.'

'The war?'

'Yes.'

'I've heard hardly a thing,' Tehol said.

Brys hesitated, glancing at Bugg, then he sighed. 'A new emperor has emerged to lead the Tiste Edur. Tehol, Hull has sworn his allegiance to him.'

'Now, that is indeed unfortunate.'

'Accordingly, you are at risk.'

'Arrest?'

'No, more likely assassination. All in the name of patriotism.'

Tehol set his bowl down. 'It occurs to me, Brys, that you are more at risk than I am.'

'I am well guarded, brother, whilst you are not.'

'Nonsense! I have Bugg!'

The manservant looked up at Brys with a bland smile.

'Tehol, this is not time for jokes—'

'Bugg resents that!'

'I do?'

'Well, don't you? I would, if I were you—'

'It seems you just were.'

'My apologies for making you speak out of turn, then.'

'Speaking on your behalf, master, I accept.'

'You are filled with relief—'

'Will you two stop it!' Brys shouted, throwing up his hands. He began pacing the small confines of the room. 'The threat is very real. Agents of the queen will not hesitate. You are both in very grave danger.'

'But how will killing me change the fact of Hull forsaking our homeland?'

'It won't, of course. But your history, Tehol, makes you a hated man. The queen's investments suffered thanks to you, and she's not the type to forgive and forget.'

'Well, what do you suggest, Brys?'

'Stop sleeping on your roof, for one. Let me hire a few bodyguards—'

'A few? How many are you thinking?'

'Four, at least.'

'One.'

'One?'

'One. No more than that.