Dust of Dreams: Book Nine of The Malazan Book of the Fallen - By Steven Erikson Page 0,23

You are essentially retired, and will receive your full pension for the rest of your life, Acquitor. In any case,’ he added, ‘I am not visiting this night in that capacity.’

‘Oh? Then, sir, what is it you want?’

‘May I enter?’

She stepped back, and once he’d come inside she shut the door, edged past him in the narrow corridor, and led him into the sparsely furnished main room. ‘Please sit, Chancellor. Having never seen you, I’m afraid I made no connection with the kind gentleman who helped me move a few stones.’ She paused, and then said, ‘If rumours are correct, you were once the King’s manservant, yes?’

‘Indeed I was.’ He waited until she’d settled into her chair before seating himself in the only other chair. ‘Acquitor, you are in your sixth month?’

She started. ‘Yes. And which file did you read to discover that?’

‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘I am feeling unusually clumsy tonight. In, uh, your company, I mean.’

‘It has been some time since I last intimidated anyone, Chancellor.’

‘Yes, well, perhaps . . . well, it’s not quite you, Acquitor.’

‘Should I be relieved that you have retracted your compliment?’

‘Now you play with me.’

‘I do. Chancellor, please, what is all this about?’

‘I think it best you think of me in a different capacity, Acquitor. Rather than “chancellor”, may I suggest “Ceda”.’

Her eyes slowly widened. ‘Ah. Very well. Tehol Beddict had quite the manservant, it seems.’

‘I am here,’ said Bugg, eyes dropping momentarily to the swell of her belly, ‘to provide a measure of . . . protection.’

She felt a faint twist of fear inside. ‘For me, or my baby? Protection from what?’

He leaned forward, hands entwined. ‘Seren Pedac, your child’s father was Trull Sengar. A Tiste Edur and brother to Emperor Rhulad. He was, however, somewhat more than that.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he was my love.’

His gaze shied away and he nodded. ‘There is a version of the Tiles, consisting of Houses, a kind of formal structure imposed on various forces at work in the universe. It is called the Deck of Dragons. Within this Deck, the House of Shadow is ruled, for the moment, not by the Tiste Edur who founded that realm, but by new entities. In the House, there is a King, no Queen as yet, and below the King of High House Shadow there are sundry, uh, servants. Such roles find new faces every now and then. Mortal faces.’

She watched him, her mouth dry as sun-baked stone. She watched as he wrung his hands, as his eyes shifted away again and again. ‘Mortal faces,’ she said.

‘Yes, Acquitor.’

‘Trull Sengar.’

‘The Knight of Shadow.’

‘Cruelly abandoned, it would seem.’

‘Not by choice, nor neglect, Acquitor. These Houses, they are engaged in war, and this war escalates—’

‘Trull did not choose that title, did he?’

‘No. Choice plays little part in such things. Perhaps even the Lords and Ladies of the Houses are in truth less omnipotent than they would like to believe. The same, of course, can be said for the gods and goddesses. Control is an illusion, a deceptive one that salves thin-skinned bluster.’

‘Trull is dead,’ Seren said.

‘But the Knight of Shadow lives on,’ Bugg replied.

The dread had been building within her, an icy tide rising to flood every space within her, between her thoughts, drowning them one by one, and now cold fear engulfed her. ‘Our child,’ she whispered.

Bugg’s eyes hardened. ‘The Errant invited the murder of Trull Sengar. Tonight, Acquitor, the Deck of Dragons will be awakened, in this very city. This awakening is in truth a challenge to the Errant, an invitation to battle. Is he ready? Is he of sufficient strength to counter-attack? Will this night end awash in mortal blood? I cannot say. One thing I mean to prevent, Seren Pedac, is the Errant striking his enemies through the child you carry.’

‘That’s not good enough,’ she whispered.

His brows rose. ‘Acquitor?’

‘I said it’s not good enough! Who is this King of High House Shadow? How dare he claim my child! Summon him, Ceda! Here! Now!’

‘Summon? Acquitor, even if I could, that would be . . . please, you must understand. To summon a god—even if naught but a fragment of its spirit—will be to set afire the brightest beacon—one that will be seen by not just the Errant, but other forces as well. On this night, Acquitor, we must do nothing to draw attention to ourselves.’

‘It is you who needs to understand, Ceda. If the Errant wants to harm my child . . . you may well be a Ceda, but