Brys needed to warn Tehol.
****
The Rat Catchers’ Guild Chief Investigator sat at a courtyard table beneath torchlight. A small heap of delicate bones sat in the centre of the large plate before her. Within reach was a crystal carafe of white wine. An extra goblet waited in front of the empty chair opposite her.
‘You’re not Tehol,’ she said as Bugg arrived and sat down. ‘Where’s Tehol and his immodest trousers?’
‘Not here, alas, Chief Investigator, but you can be certain that, wherever they are, they are together.’
‘Ah, so he has meetings with people more important than me? After all, were he sleeping, he would not be wearing the trousers, would he?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Rucket. Now, you requested this meeting?’
‘With Tehol.’
‘Ah, so this was to be romantic?’
She sniffed and took a moment to glare at the only other occupants of this midnight restaurant, a husband and wife clearly not married to each other who were casting suspicious glances their way, punctuated with close leaning heads and heated whispers. ‘This place serves a specific clientele, damn you. What’s your name again?’
‘Bugg.’
‘Oh yes. I recall being unsurprised the first time it was mentioned. Well, you kept me waiting, you little worm, and what’s that smell?’
Bugg withdrew a blackened, wrinkled strip, flat and slightly longer than his hand. ‘I found an eel in the fish market. Thought I’d make soup for myself and the master.’
‘Our financial adviser eats discarded eels?’
‘Frugality is a virtue among financiers, Chief Investigator.’ He tucked the dried strip back into his shirt. ‘How is the wine? May I?’
‘Well, why not? Here, care to pick the bones?’
‘Possibly. What was it originally?’
‘Cat, of course.’
‘Cat. Oh yes, of course. Well, I never liked cats anyway. All those hair balls.’ He drew the plate over and perused it to see what was left.
‘You have a fascination for feline genitalia? That’s disgusting, although I’ve heard worse. One of our minor catchers once tried to marry a rat. I myself possess peculiar interests, I freely admit.’
‘That’s nice,’ Bugg said, popping a vertebra into his mouth to suck out the marrow.
‘Well, aren’t you curious?’
‘No,’ he said around the bone. ‘Should I be?’
Rucket slowly leaned forward, as if seeing Bugg for the first time. ‘You… interest me now. I freely admit it. Do you want to know why?’
‘Why you freely admit it? All right.’
‘I’m a very open person, all things considered.’
‘Well, I am considering those things, and so consequently admit to being somewhat surprised.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least, Bugg. What are you doing later tonight, and what’s that insect? There, on your shoulder?’
He pulled the vertebra out and reached for another. ‘It’s of the two-headed variety. Very rare, for what I imagine are obvious reasons. I thought my master would like to see it.’
‘So you permit it to crawl all over you?’
‘That would take days. It’s managed to climb from halfway up my arm to my shoulder and that’s taken over a bell.’
‘What a pathetic creature.’
‘I suspect it has difficulty making up its minds.’
‘You’re being funny, aren’t you? I have a thing for funny people. Why don’t you come home with me after you’ve finished there.’
‘Are you sure you don’t have any business to discuss with me? Perhaps some news for Tehol?’
‘Well, there’s a murderous little girl who’s undead, and she’s been killing lots of people, although less so lately. And Gerun Eberict has been far busier than it would outwardly seem.’
‘Indeed? But why would he hide that fact?’
‘Because the killings do not appear to be politically motivated.’
‘Oh? Then what are his motivations?’
‘Hard to tell. We think he just likes killing people.’
‘Well, how many has he killed this past year?’
‘Somewhere between two and three thousand, we think.’
Bugg reached with haste for his goblet. He drank the wine down, then coughed. ‘Errant take us!’
‘So, are you coming home with me or not? I have this cat-fur rug—’
‘Alas, my dear, I have taken a vow of celibacy.’
‘Since when?’
‘Oh, thousands of years… it seems.’
‘I am not surprised. But even more intrigued.’
‘Ah, it’s the lure of the unattainable.’
‘Are you truly unattainable?’
‘Extraordinary, but yes, I am.’
‘What a terrible loss for womanhood.’
‘Now you are being funny.’
‘No, I am being serious, Bugg. I think you are probably a wonderful lover.’
‘Aye,’ he drawled, ‘the very oceans heaved. Can we move on to some other subject? You want any more wine? No? Great.’ He collected the carafe, then drew a flask from under his shirt and began the delicate task of pouring the wine into it.
‘Is that for your eel soup?’
‘Indeed.’
‘What happens now that I’ve decided to like you? Not just like you, I freely admit, but lust after you, Bugg.’
‘I have no idea, Rucket. May I take the rest of these bones?’
‘You certainly may. Would you like me to regurgitate my meal for you as well? I will, you know, for the thought that you will take into you what was previously in me—’
Bugg was waving both hands in the negative. ‘Please, don’t put yourself out for me.’
‘No need to look so alarmed. Bodily functions are a wonderful, indeed sensual, thing. Why, the mere blowing clear of a nose is a potential source of ecstasy, once you grasp its phlegmatic allure.’
‘I’d best be going, Rucket.’ He quickly rose. ‘Have a nice night, Chief Investigator.’ And was gone.
Alone once more, Rucket sighed and leaned back in her chair. ‘Well,’ she sighed contentedly, ‘it’s always been a sure-fire way of getting rid of unwanted company.’ She raised her voice. ‘Servant! More wine, please!’ That bit about clearing the nose was especially good, she decided. She was proud of that one, especially the way she disguised the sudden nausea generated by her own suggestion.
Any man who’d cook that … eel had surely earned eternal celibacy.
Outside the restaurant, Bugg paused to check the contents of his shirt’s many hidden pockets. Flask, eel, cat bones. A successful meeting, after all. Moreover, he was appreciative of her performance. Tehol might well and truly like this one, I think. It was worth considering.
He stood for a moment longer, then allowed himself a soft laugh.
In any case, time to head home.
****
Tehol Beddict studied the three sad, pathetic women positioned variously in the chamber before him: Shand slumped behind the desk, her shaved pate looking dull and smudged; Rissarh lying down on a hard bench as if meditating on discomfort, her red hair spilled out and hanging almost to the floor; and Hejun, sprawled in a padded chair, refilling her pipe’s bowl, her face looking sickly and wan. ‘My,’ Tehol said with a sigh, his hands on his hips, ‘this is a tragic scene indeed.’
Shand looked up, bleary-eyed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Hardly the greeting I was anticipating.’ He strode into the room.
‘He’s gone,’ Hejun said, face twisting as she jabbed a taper into the coals of the three-legged brazier at her side. ‘And it’s Shand’s fault.’
‘As much yours as mine,’ Shand retorted. ‘And don’t forget Rissarh! “Oh, Ublala! Carry me around! Carry me around!” Talk about excess!’
‘Ublala’s departure is the cause for all this despond?’ Tehol shook his head. ‘My dears, you did indeed drive him away.’ He paused, then added
with great pleasure, ‘Because none of you was willing to make a commitment. A disgusting display of self-serving objectification. Atrocious behaviour by each and every one of you.’
‘All right all right, Tehol,’ Shand muttered. ‘We could have been more… compassionate.’
‘Respectful,’ Rissarh said.
‘Yes,’ Hejun said. ‘How could one not respect Ublala’s—’
‘See?’ Tehol demanded, then flung up his hands. ‘I am led to despair!’
‘You’ll have company here,’ Shand said.
‘He was to have been your bodyguard. That was the intent. Instead, you abused him—’
‘No we didn’t!’ Hejun snapped. ‘Well, only a little. All in good fun, anyway.’
‘And now I have to find you a new bodyguard.’
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Shand said, sitting straighter. ‘Don’t even think it. We’ve been corrupted enough—’
Tehol’s brows rose. ‘In any case,’ he said, ‘Ublala has now found someone who cares deeply for him—’
‘You idiot. She’s dead. She’s incapable of caring.’
‘Not true. Or, rather, there’s something inside her that does care. A lot. My point is, it’s time to get over it. There’s work to be done.’
‘We tried following up on that list you gave us. Half those companies don’t even exist. You tricked us, Tehol. In fact, we think this whole thing is a lie.’
‘What an absurd accusation. Granted, I padded the list somewhat, but only because you seemed to need to stay busy. Besides which, you’re now rich, right? Wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. My investment advice has been perfect thus far. How many money-lending institutions do you now hold interest in?’
‘All the big ones,’ Shand admitted. ‘But not controlling interest—’
‘Wrong. Forty per cent is sufficient and you’ve acquired that.’
‘How is forty per cent enough?’
‘Because I hold twenty. Or, if not me, then my agents, Bugg included. We are poised, dear ladies, to loose chaos upon the Tolls.’
He had their attention now, he saw. Even Rissarh sat up. Eyes fixed upon him, eyes in which the gleam of comprehension was dawning.
‘When?’ Hejun asked.
‘Ah, well. That is entirely another matter. There is news on the wind, which, had any of you been in a proper state, would already be known to you. It seems, my sweet friends, that Lether is at war.’
‘The Tiste Edur?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Perfect!’ Shand barked, thumping the desktop with a fist. ‘We strike now and it’ll all come down!’
‘Likely,’ Tehol said. ‘And also, disastrous. Do you want the Edur to march in and burn everything to the ground?’
‘Why not? It’s all corrupt anyway!’
‘Because, Shand, bad as it is – and we’re all agreed it’s bad – matters can get a whole lot worse. If, for example, the Tiste Edur win this war.’
‘Hold on, Tehol! The plan was to bring about a collapse! But now you’re going back on it. You must be a fool to think the Edur would win this war without our help. No-one wins against Lether. Never have, never will. But if we strike now…’
‘All very well, Shand. For myself, however, I am not convinced the Edur will prove ideal conquerors. As I said, what is to stop them from putting every Letherii to the sword, or enslaving everyone? What’s to stop them from razing every city, every town, every village? It’s one thing to bring down an economy, and so trigger a reformation of sorts, a reconfiguring of values and all that. It’s entirely another to act in a way that exposes the Letherii to genocide.’
‘Why?’ Rissarh demanded. ‘They’ve not hesitated at committing genocide of their own, have they? How many Tarthenal villages were burned to the ground? How many children of the Nerek and the Faraed were spitted on spears, how many dragged into slavery?’
‘Then you would descend to their level, Rissarh? Why emulate the worst behaviours of a culture, when it is those very behaviours that fill you with horror? Revulsion at babes spitted on spears, so you would do the same in return?’ He looked at each of them in turn, but they made no reply. Tehol ran a hand through his hair. ‘Consider the opposite. A hypothetical situation, if you will. Letheras declares a war in the name of liberty and would therefore assert the right of the moral high ground. How would you respond?’
‘With disgust,’ Hejun said, relighting her pipe, face disappearing behind blue clouds.
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s not liberty they want, not the kind of liberty that serves the people in question. Instead, it’s the freedom of Letherii business interests to profit from those people.’
‘And if they act to prevent genocide and tyranny, Hejun?’
‘Then no moral high ground at all, for they have committed their own acts of genocide. As for tyranny, tyrannies are only reprehensible to the Letherii when they do not operate in collusion with Letherii business interests. And, by that definition, they make their claims of honour suspect to everyone else.’
‘All very well. Now, I have considered each and every one of those arguments. And could only conclude one thing: the Letherii, in that situation, are damned if they do and damned if they don’t. In other words, the issue is one of trust. In the past lies the evidence leading one to mistrust. In the present may be seen efforts to reacquire trust, whilst in the future awaits the proof of either one or the other.’
‘This is a hypothetical situation, Tehol,’ Shand said wearily. ‘What is your point?’
‘My point is, nothing is as simple as it might at first seem. And paradigms rarely shift through an act of will. They change as a consequence of chaos, in stumbling over a threshold, and all that is most reprehensible in our nature waits in the wings, eager to invade and so give shape to the reforging of order. It falls to every one of us to be mindful.’
‘What in the Errant’s name are you talking about?’ Shand demanded.
‘What I am saying, Shand, is that we cannot in good conscience trigger a collapse of the Letherii economy right now. Not until we determine how this war is going to play out.’
‘Good conscience? Who cares about that? Our motive was revenge. The Letherii are poised to annihilate yet another people. And I want to get them!’
‘Do not dismiss the Tiste Edur just yet, Shand. Our priority right now must be the secret evacuation of destitute and Indebted Nerek, Faraed and Tarthenal. Out to the islands. To my islands. The rest can wait, should wait, and will wait. Until I say otherwise.’
‘You’re betraying us.’
‘No, I’m not. Nor am I having second thoughts. I am not blind to the underlying motives of greed upon which my civilization is founded, for all its claims of righteous destiny and unassailable integrity.’
‘What makes you think,’ Hejun asked, ‘the Tiste Edur might succeed where everyone else has failed?’
‘Succeed? That word makes me uneasy. Might they prove a difficult and at times devastating enemy? I think they will. Their civilization is old, Hejun. Far older than ours. Their golden age was long, long ago. They exist now in a state of fear, seeing the influence and material imposition of Letheras as a threat, as a kind of ongoing unofficial war of cultures. To the Edur, Lether is a poison, a corrupting influence, and in reaction to that the Edur have become a people entrenched and belligerent. In disgust at what they see ahead of them, they have turned their backs and dream only of what lay behind them. They dream of a return to past glories. Even could the Letherii offer a helping hand, they would view it as an invitation to surrender, and their pride will not permit that. Or, conversely, that hand represents an attack on all they hold dear, and so they will cut it and dance in the blood. The worst scenario I can imagine, for the Edur, is if they win this war. If they somehow conquer us and become occupiers.’
‘Won’t happen, and what if it did? They couldn’t be worse.’
Tehol studied Hejun briefly, then he shrugged. ‘All of this awaits resolution. In the me
antime, remain vigilant. There are still things that need doing. What happened to that Nerek mother and her children I sent you?’
‘We shipped them to the islands,’ Shand said. ‘They ate more than she cooked. Started getting fat. It was all very sad.’
‘Well, it’s late and I’m hungry, so I will take my leave now.’
‘What about Ublala?’ Rissarh demanded.
‘What about him?’
‘We want him back.’
‘Too late, I’m afraid. That’s what happens when you won’t commit.’
Tehol quickly made his way out.
Walking the quiet streets back to his abode, Tehol considered his earlier words. He had to admit to himself that he was troubled. There was sufficient mystery in some of the rumours to suggest that the impending war would not be like all the others Letherii had waged. A collision of wills and desires, and beneath it a host of dubious assumptions and suspect sentiments. In that alone, no different from any other war. But in this case, the outcome was far from certain, and even the notion of victory seemed confused and elusive.
He passed through Burl Square and came to the entrance to the warehouse storage area, beyond which was the alley leading to his home. Pausing to push up his lopsided sleeves and cinch tight his trousers, he frowned. Was he losing weight? Hard to know. Wool stretched, after all.
A figure stepped from the nearby shadows of an alley mouth. ‘You’re late.’
Tehol started, then said, ‘For what?’
Shurq Elalle came to within two paces of him. ‘I’ve been waiting. Bugg made soup. Where have you been?’
‘What are you doing out?’ Tehol asked. ‘You’re supposed to be holed up right now. This is dangerous—’
‘I needed to talk to you,’ she cut in. ‘It’s about Harlest.’
Midnight Tides Page 50
