Behind Varat, a wordless cry, and the Letherii flinched as someone scrambled past him – Taralack VeedThe unhuman female had crouched beside the fallen form of Icarium.
Softly stroking the slayer's forehead, as the amber glow began to fade, and with that fading, the female herself grew indistinct, then dissolved into gold light, which flickered, then vanished.
Taralack Veed turned his head and met Varat's eyes. 'Help me!' he hissed.
'Do what?' the Letherii demanded.
'The gate behind you – it fades! We need to drag Icarium back through!
We need to get him out of here!'
'Are you insane?'
The Gral's face twisted. 'Don't you understand? Icarium – he is for your Emperor!'
A sudden chill, sweeping away the last vestiges of that healing warmth, and then, in its wake, a flood of emotion – scalding his mind.
Varat Taun pushed himself upright, clambered to join Taralack Veed.
For Rhulad. Gods. Yes, I see now. Yes. For Rhulad – even Rhulad – even that sword – yes, I see, I see!
The entranceway to the throne room was unoccupied once more, as the Tiste Edur had pulled the Ceda into the sanctity of that chamber – now was their chance – he and Taralack reached the prostrate form of Icarium.
The Gral collected the sword and sheathed it beneath his belt, then grasped one arm. 'Take the other,' he commanded in a hiss. 'Hurry!
Before they realize – before that damned gate slams shut!'
And Varat grasped the other arm, and they began dragging Icarium back.
The slickness of what lay beneath the Jhag made it easier than expected.
Kneeling, Trull Sengar wiped blood from the mage's face, cautiously, gentle round the closed eyes. From beyond the archway, a profound silence. Within this chamber, the sounds of weeping, muted, hopeless.
'Will he live?'
The Tiste Edur started, then looked up. 'Cotillion. You said you'd send help. Is this him?'
The god nodded.
'He wasn't enough.'
'I know that.'
'So who would you have sent next?'
'Myself, Trull Sengar.'
Ah. He looked back down at the unconscious mage. 'The Eres'al… she did what no-one else could do.'
'So it would seem.'
'Unanticipated, her arrival, I presume.'
'Most unexpected, Trull. It is unfortunate, nonetheless, that her power of healing did not reach through, into this chamber.'
The Tiste Edur frowned, then looked back up at the god. 'What do you mean?'
Cotillion could not meet his eyes. 'Onrack. Even now he rises. Mended, more or less. I think she feels for him…'
'And who feels for us?' Trull demanded. He turned his head aside and spat out blood.
There was no answer from the god.
The Tiste Edur slumped down into a ragged sitting position. 'I'm sorry, Cotillion. I don't know if you deserved that. Probably not.'
'It has been an eventful night,' the god said. Then sighed. 'Such is convergence. I asked you earlier, will Quick Ben live?'
Quick Ben. Trull nodded. 'I think so. The blood's stopped flowing.'
'I have called Shadowthrone. There will be healing.'
Trull Sengar glanced over to where Panek sat beside his mother – one of his mothers – 'Shadowthrone had best hurry, before those children become orphans once again.'
A scuffling sound from the portal, and Onrack shuffled into view.
'Trull Sengar.'
He nodded, managed a broken smile. 'Onrack. It seems you and I are cursed to continue our pathetic existence for a while longer.'
'I am pleased.'
No-one spoke for a moment, and then the T'lan Imass said, 'Lifestealer is gone. He was taken away, back through the gate.'
Cotillion hissed in frustration. 'The damned Nameless Ones! They never learn, do they?'
Trull was staring at Onrack. 'Taken? He lives? Why – how? Taken?'
But it was the god who answered. 'Icarium – Lifestealer – is their finest weapon, Trull Sengar. The Nameless Ones intend to fling him against your brother, the Emperor of Lether.'
As comprehension reached through the numbness of exhaustion, Trull slowly closed his eyes. Oh no, please… 'I see. What will happen then, Cotillion?'
'I don't know. No-one does. Not even the Nameless Ones, although in their arrogance they would never admit to it.'
A squeal from Panek drew their attention – and there was Shadowthrone, crouching down over Minala, settling a hand on her forehead.