king.'
'About what?'
'I will not be moved. Any who would try will be blasted into ashes. Ashes, Brys Beddict.'
Brys glanced around. A small crowd had gathered to listen to the exchange. The Finadd scowled. 'Be on your way, all of you.' People scrambled.
Temporarily alone once more, Brys crouched down before the Ceda. 'You had paints and brushes with you last time. What happened to them?'
'Paints and brushes?' The eyes blinked behind the lenses. 'Gone. Gone away. The king wants you now, Finadd. He is ready to begin the procession. Nifadas is coming – he will complain, but no matter. It will be a small audience, won't it. Relevant? Oh yes. Best the king ignore me – explain that to him, Brys.'
The Finadd straightened. 'I shall, Ceda.'
'Excellent. Now, be on your way.'
'This doesn't smell right.'
Trull looked over at the Kenryll'ah demon that had spoken. It was taller than the Tiste Edur on their horses. A face of sharper features than those on Lilac, black as chiselled basalt, the upper and lower canines protruding and glinting silver. A fur-lined collar, a vest of bronze scales, salt-rimed and dark with patination. A heavy leather belt on which was slung a huge scabbarded tulwar. Leather leggings, grey and supple. The other demon, standing at its side, differed only in the choice of weapons, a massive matlock gripped in two gauntleted hands.
This second Kenryll'ah bared its teeth. 'Making me hungry.'
'Split bones,' the other said. 'Marrow.'
The stench the two were referring to was that of rotting corpses. They had reached the edge of the clearing, beyond which was the palisade wall of the town of Brous. In the field were barrows, and one long excavated trench. There was no-one in sight.
'Brothers,' the emperor said, 'dismount and ready your weapons.'
Trull swung down from his horse. He turned. 'K'risnan, can you sense anything?'
The young Arapay warlock's face was sickly. He nodded. 'In the town, I think. It knows we're here.'
Rhulad closed both hands on the grip of his sword and raised it to centre guard position. 'Udinaas, remain with the horses. Fear, on my left. Trull, my right. K'risnan, stay behind us five paces. Demons, out to either side.'
'Can't we eat first?'
'Or pee? I need to pee.'
'You should have thought of that before we left,' the first demon said.
'And you should have eaten. We've plenty of spare horses, you know.'
The emperor hissed. 'Silence, both of you. We've had to listen to you the entire journey. No more, lest I decide to kill you first.'
'That wouldn't be wise,' the second Kenryll'ah said. 'I smell more than meat, I smell the one thing still alive in there, and it isn't pleasant.'
'I taste it,' the first demon said. 'And it makes me want to retch.'
'You should have thought of retching before we left,' the second one said.
'I think of retching every time I look at you.'
'Enough!'
'I apologize for my brother,' the first demon said.
'And I for mine,' the second one added.
Strange tyrants. Trull unslung his spear and strode to Rhulad's side.
They made their way across the clearing. Reaching the pit, they saw the first of the bodies. Broken and tossed at the base of the deep, ragged excavation, like an open mass burial. Workers and soldiers. Flesh dark and bloating in the heat. Flies swarmed.
They skirted the pit and approached the town. The gates opposite them had been knocked down, inward, the heavy doors shattered. Somewhere in the town a dog was barking.
The street was strewn with corpses just inside the wall. The doors of every house and building within sight had been stove in. Ahead and to the right, two horses stood yoked to a wagon that had been knocked over. Exhaustion and the strain of the yokes had driven one of the beasts into an awkward sitting position. Trull hesitated, then walked over to them, drawing the knife at his belt. The others paused and watched as he cut the horses loose. Neither animal was in any condition to flee, but they slowly made their way outside on trembling, uncertain legs.
Trull returned to his position beside Rhulad.
'It's coming,' the first demon said.
Further down the main street a flock of starlings swirled into view, spinning between the buildings. In a mass of black, the birds seemed to boil towards the Tiste Edur and the Kenryll'ah. Striding in the midst of the birds, a tall figure, spectral, its skin white, its hair pallid yellow and hanging in limp strands. It was wearing a leather harness that looked wrinkled and blackened with rot.