Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,806

expect it to survive much longer.

After a time, he sensed a presence behind him, but did not turn. 'Emperor,' he said in his quiet voice, 'it has been a long time, hasn't it?'

Shadowthrone's whisper reached out to him, like a chilling caress. 'Must this be your way, Tayschrenn? Each and every time.' A soft snort, the voice drawing closer as it continued, 'You've let yourself be caged. Again. You drive me mad.'

'You have had a busy night,' the Imperial High Mage observed.

'Ah, you sensed my ... activities? Of course you did. So, not as caged as it would seem.'

'I endeavour,' said Tayschrenn, 'to take the long view on such matters.' He paused, then added, 'As do you.' He glanced over at the insubstantial smear of darkness at his side. 'Your new role would not have changed you that much, I suspect.'

'You schemed with Quick Ben and Kalam,' Shadowthrone said. 'You travelled all the way to Seven Cities to do it, yet what have your plans achieved? The Empress on shifting sands, a Jhistal priest waddling unfettered in the corridors of power, the Claw infiltrated and decimated and my loyal Wickans assailed – but tell me this, Tayschrenn, could you have ever predicted D'rek's answer to the betrayal of the priests and priestesses?'

'Betrayal?'

'D'rek slaughtered your kin! Every temple!'

The High Mage was silent for a dozen heartbeats, as the god at his side grew ever more agitated. Then Tayschrenn said, 'A year ago, an old friend of mine set out, in haste, from here – sailing to the Grand Temple of D'rek in Kartool City.'

'You knew all that?'

Tayschrenn half-smiled. 'The ship he hired was mine. Alas, he was unaware of that detail.'

'I knew it!' Shadowthrone hissed. 'You never left the cult!'

'The Worm of Autumn is the harbinger of death, and death comes to us all. Us mortals, that is. How can one leave the acceptance of that? What would be the point?'

'This empire was mine! Not D'rek's! Not yours!'

'Emperor, your paranoia always disturbed me more than your acquisitiveness. In any case, Laseen now rules ... for the moment. Unless,' he squinted at the god, 'you are planning a triumphant return?'

'To save everyone from themselves? I think not. Hate is the world's most pernicious weed ... especially when people like you do nothing.'

'Every garden I have tended is either dead or wild, Emperor.'

'Why did you agree to be Quick Ben's shaved knuckle in the hole, Tayschrenn?'

The High Mage blinked in surprise.

'And why didn't he call on you when I sent him into that nightmare?'

'I would have been disappointed indeed,' Tayschrenn slowly said, 'had he called on me so soon. As I said earlier, Emperor, I hold to the long view on matters of this realm.'

'Why didn't D'rek kill you?'

'She tried.'

'What?'

'I talked her out of it.'

'Abyss take me, how I hate you!'

'Even gods must learn to control their tempers,' Tayschrenn said, 'lest they set a bad example.'

'You said that to D'rek?'

'I am saying that to you, Shadowthrone.'

'My temper is fine! I am perfectly calm – seething with fury and hatred, mind you, but calm!'

Neither spoke for a time after that, until the god murmured, 'My poor Wickans ...'

'They are not as vulnerable as you fear, Emperor. They will have Nil and Nether. They will have Temul, and when Temul is old, decades from now, he will have a young warrior to teach, whose name shall be Coltaine.' He clasped his hands behind his back, frowning down at the smoke-wreathed city as the first greying of dawn approached. 'If you would fear,' he said, 'fear for your own child.'

'I fear nothing—'

'Liar. You heard Temper step out of Coop's – and you fled.'

'Expedience!'

'Unquestionably.'

'You're in a nest of vipers here – I am happy to leave you to it.'

Tayschrenn sketched a modest bow. 'Emperor. Please convey my greetings to Cotillion.'

'Tell him yourself, if you dare.'

'It was not me who stole Kalam from him – tell me, does the assassin live?'

'He's in the Deadhouse – isn't that answer enough?'

'Not really.'

'I know!' Shadowthrone cackled in glee, then vanished like mist in the wind.

The morning was bright, the sun already warm, as the Master Investigator paused outside the Imperial Domicile in the city of Kartool. He adjusted his uniform, ensuring that every wrinkle was smoothed away. Then he licked the palms of his hands and carefully, tenderly, eased back his unruly hair – unruly in his own mind, at least. A last glance down at his boots, reassured by their unmarred polish, then he smartly ascended the steps and entered