the chamber's grand entranceway. A half-dozen more Tiste Edur had appeared, tremulous in their furtive motions, their uncertainty at what they were witnessing. A hissed command from Hannan Mosag sent two into the room, each one drawing up the burlap over the mangled forms of Janall and Quillas, her son. The sound as they dragged the two flesh-filled sacks from the chamber was, to Nisall's ears, more grisly than anything else she had yet heard on this fell day.
'At the same time,' the Emperor went on after a moment, 'the title and its attendant privileges . . . remain, should you so desire.'
She blinked, feeling as if she was standing on shifting sand. 'You free me to choose, Emperor?'
A nod, the bleary, red-shot eyes still fixed on the chamber's entranceway. 'Udinaas,' he whispered. 'Betrayer. You . . . you were not free to choose. Slave – my slave – I should never have trusted the darkness, never . . .' He flinched once more on the throne, eyes suddenly glittering. 'He comes.'
She had no idea whom he meant, but the raw emotion in his voice frightened her anew. What more could come on this terrible day?
Voices outside, one of them sounding bitter, then diffident.
She watched as a Tiste Edur warrior strode into the throne room. Rhulad's brother. One of them. The one who had left Rhulad lying on the tiles. Young, handsome in that way of the Edur – both alien and perfect. She tried to recall if she had heard his name—
'Trull,' said the Emperor in a rasp. 'Where is he? Where is Fear?'
'He has . . . left.'
'Left? Left us?'
'Us. Yes, Rhulad – or do you insist I call you Emperor?'
Expressions twisted across Rhulad's coin-studded face, one after another, then he grimaced and said, 'You left me, too, brother. Left me bleeding . . . on the floor. Do you think yourself different from Udinaas? Less a betrayer than my Letherii slave?'
'Rhulad, would that you were my brother of old—'
'The one you sneered down upon?'
'If it seemed I did that, then I apologize.'
'Yes, you see the need for that now, don't you?'
Trull Sengar stepped forward. 'It's the sword, Rhulad. It is cursed – please, throw it away. Destroy it. You've won the throne now, you don't need it any more—'
'You are wrong.' He bared his teeth, as if sickened by self-hatred. 'Without it I am just Rhulad, youngest son of Tomad. Without the sword, brother, I am nothing.'
Trull cocked his head. 'You have led us to conquest. I will stand beside you. So will Binadas, and our father. You have won that throne, Rhulad – you need not fear Hannan Mosag—'
'That miserable worm? You think me frightened of him?' The sword-tip made a snapping sound as its point jumped free of the tiles. Rhulad aimed the weapon at Trull's chest. 'I am the Emperor!'
'No, you're not,' Trull replied. 'Your sword is Emperor – your sword and the power behind it.'
'Liar!' Rhulad shrieked.
Nisall saw Trull flinch back, then steady himself. 'Prove it.'
The Emperor's eyes widened.
'Shatter the sword – Sister's blessing, just let it fall from your hand. Even that, Rhulad. Just that. Let it fall!'
'No! I know what you want, brother! You will take it – I see you tensed, ready to dive for it – I see the truth!' The weapon was shuddering between them, as if eager for blood, anyone's blood.
Trull shook his head. 'I want it shattered, Rhulad.'
'You cannot stand at my side,' the Emperor hissed. 'Too close – there is betrayal in your eyes – you left me! Crippled on the floor!' He raised his voice. 'Where are my warriors? Into the chamber! Your Emperor commands it!'
A half-dozen Edur warriors suddenly appeared, weapons out.
'Trull,' Rhulad whispered. 'I see you have no sword. Now it is for you to drop your favoured weapon, your spear. And your knives. What? Do you fear I will slay you? Show me the trust you claim in yourself. Guide me with your honour, brother.'
She did not know it then; she did not understand enough of the Edur way of life, but she saw something in Trull's face, a kind of surrender, but a surrender that was far more complicated, fraught, than simply disarming himself there before his brother. Levels of resignation, settling one upon another, the descent of impossible burdens – and the knowledge shared between the two brothers, of what such a surrender signified. She did not realize at the time what Trull's answer would mean, the way it