time otherwise occupied. The man's rage would be apoplectic in no time.
She watched as Gerun stormed into his house, guards scrambling after him, then she lowered herself along the slope, rolled onto her back and slid towards the edge.
There was a balcony directly below—
No, not any more.
She fell, struck a clothes line that snapped with her weight, cannoned off the side of a ledge thick with pigeon droppings, and landed spread-eagled on a heap of rubbish. Where she lay for a time, unmoving.
That was the problem with cities. Nothing ever stayed the same. She'd used that balcony at least a half-dozen times before, when staking out the estate. She lifted an arm. Then the other. Drew her legs beneath her. Nothing broken thus far. And, after a careful examination, nothing overly damaged. Fortunately, she concluded, the dead did not suffer much from pride, said wounding being minimal.
It was then that she discovered the bar of rusty iron projecting from her forehead. Perfumed liquids were leaking out, blurring her vision. She probed the offending object with her fingertips. Punched right through the bone, all the way, in fact, to the back of her skull, if the grating noises the bar made when she wriggled it were any indication.
'I've made a mess of my brain,' she said. 'But was I really using it? Probably not. Still, was I in the habit of talking to myself before? I don't think so.'
She stood, knee-deep in the refuse, contemplating physically removing the bar. But that might make things even messier. Less than a hand's width projected out, after all. Hard not to notice, but far less egregious than, say, an arm's length. A visit to Tehol Beddict seemed incumbent, if only for endless advice she could take pleasure in rejecting.
Alas, she realized, she would have to wait for night, since there was no way she could get to his home without being seen. There had been a time, long ago, when she liked attention. Admiring regards and all that, and it was always satisfying to flaunt her qualities. But a bar in the head took fashion sense to excess by any standard of measure. People would notice, and not in a good way.
Disconsolate, Shurq Elalle sat down in the rubbish. To await the coming of night.
'What happened to the legs of my bed?'
'We needed the wood, master.'
'Yes, but why only three of them?'
'I was saving the other one for later. I found a bag of something that might be tea.'
'Well.' Tehol sat up. 'I'm just amazed I slept through it.'
'You were clearly very tired, master.'
'Yes, which is very understandable, given how busy I've been. I have been busy, haven't I?'
'I could not say, having been too busy myself to take much notice. But I have faith in your proclamations, master. You certainly slept like a man who'd been busy.'
'Seems proof enough, I would say. I'm convinced. Now, while I've been working myself senseless, you make claim to having had many things on your table. Let's hear about them.'
'Very well, master. We're more or less done with the wings of the Eternal Domicile. Dry, foundations restored, my crews cleaning up. There have been some complaints about the cold draughts in the Fifth Wing, but that's not my problem, strictly speaking.'
'Why the cold draughts, Bugg?'
'Presumably related to the shoring methods I employed, but they don't know that.'
'And why should your shoring methods make it cold? Bugg, do I detect some discomfort in your demeanour?'
'Discomfort, master? Not at all. Are you certain you want the details of this matter?'
'When you put it that way, probably not. So, is that all you've been doing?'
'I've also been here and there, working through all the rumours to see if I could glean some truth. I have accordingly assembled a list of facts.'
'A list. Wonderful. I love lists. They're so ... ordered.'
'Indeed, master. Shall I proceed? Well, the northern frontier belongs to the Tiste Edur, as do all the coastal cities all the way down to Height and possibly Old Gedure. It is believed the Edur fleets are in the Ouster Sea, opposite Lenth and therefore on the edge of Gedry Bay. From this one must assume they intend to sail up Lether River. Possibly with the aim of arriving in concert with the land armies. It is clear that the Tiste Edur are marching on Letheras and are planning to conquer it and take the throne. Whether this will succeed in triggering the capitulation of the entire kingdom remains to be