‘You are Indebted.’
Rhulad flinched back in his chair, his eyes flashing with sudden rage. ‘We are not the same, slave! Do you understand? I am not one of your Indebted . I am not a Letherii.’ Then he sagged in a rustle of coins. ‘Daughter take me, the weight of this…’
‘I am sorry, Emperor. It is true. You are not an Indebted. Nor, perhaps, are you a slave. Although perhaps it feels that way, at times. When exhaustion assails you.’
‘Yes, that is it. I am tired. That’s all. Tired.’
Udinaas hesitated, then asked, ‘Emperor, does he speak through you now?’
A fragile shake of the head. ‘No. But he does not speak through me. He only whispers advice, helps me choose my words. Orders my thoughts – but the thoughts are mine. They must be. I am not a fool. I possess my own cleverness. Yes, that is it. He but whispers confidence .’
‘You have not eaten,’ Udinaas said. ‘Nor drunk anything. Do you know hunger and thirst, Emperor? Can I get you something to replenish your strength?’
‘Yes, I would eat. And… some wine. Find a servant.’
‘At once, master.’
Udinaas walked to the small curtain covering the entrance to the passage that led to the kitchens. He found a servant huddled in the corridor a dozen paces from the door. Terrified eyes glistened up at him as he approached. ‘On your feet, Virrick. The emperor wants wine. And food.’
‘The god would eat?’
‘He’s not a god. Food and drink, Virrick. Fit for an emperor, and be quick about it.’
The servant scrambled up, seemed about to bolt.
‘You know how to do this,’ Udinaas said in a calm voice. ‘It’s what you have been trained to do.’
‘I am frightened-’
‘Listen to me. I will tell you a secret. You always like secrets, don’t you, Virrick?’
A tentative nod.
‘It is this,’ Udinaas said. ‘We slaves have no reason to fear. It is the Edur who have reason, and that gives us leave to continue laughing behind their backs. Remember doing that, Virrick? It’s your favourite game.’
‘I – I remember, Udinaas.’
‘Good. Now go into the kitchens and show the others. You know the secret, now. Show them, and they will follow. Food, and wine. When you are ready, bring it to the curtain and give the low whistle, as you would do normally. Virrick, we need things to return to normal, do you understand? And that task falls to us, the slaves.’
‘Feather Witch ran-’
‘Feather Witch is young, and what she did was wrong. I have spoken to her and shall do so again.’
‘Yes, Udinaas. You are the emperor’s slave. You have the right of it; there is much wisdom in your words. I think we will listen to you, Indebted though you are. You have been… elevated.’ He nodded. ‘Feather Witch failed us-’
‘Do not be so harsh on her, Virrick. Now, go.’
He watched the servant hurry off down the corridor, then Udinaas swung about and returned to the throne chamber.
‘What took you so long?’ Rhulad demanded in near panic. ‘I heard voices.’
‘I was informing Virrick of your requirements, Emperor.’
‘You are too slow. You must be quicker, slave.’
‘I shall, master.’
‘Everyone must be told what to do. No-one seems capable of thinking for themselves.’
Udinaas said nothing, and did not dare smile even as the obvious observation drifted through his mind.
‘You are useful to us, slave. We will need… reminding… again. At unexpected times. And that is what shall you do for us. That, and food and drink at proper times.’
‘Yes, master.’
‘Now, stand in attendance, whilst we rest our eyes for a time.’
‘Of course, master.’
He stood, waiting, watching, a dozen paces away.
The distance between emperor and slave.
As he made his way onto the bridge, Trull Sengar saw the Acquitor. She was standing midway across the bridge, motionless as a frightened deer, her gaze fixed on the main road leading through the village. Trull could not see what had snared her attention.
He hesitated. Then her head turned and he met her eyes. There were no words for what passed between them at that instant. A gaze that began searchingly, then swiftly and ineffably transformed into something else. That locked contact was mutually broken in the next moment, instinctive reactions from them both.
In the awkward wake, nothing was said for a half-dozen heartbeats. Trull found himself struggling against a sense of vast emptiness deep in his chest.