"Not as easy as you think." Her tone was genuine in its bitterness. He . . . baffles me."

Frightens you, you mean. "Silchas Ruin will demand the Finnest."

"Yes, he will! And we both know what he will do with it – and that must not be permitted!"

Are you sure of that, Mother? Because, you see, I am not. Not any more. "Silchas Ruin may well demand. He may well make dire threats, Mother. You have said so often enough."

"And if we stand side by side, my son, he cannot hope to get past us."

"Yes."

"But who will be guarding your back?"

"Enough, Mother. I warned them to silence and I do not think they will attempt anything. Call it faith – not in the measure of their fear. Instead, my faith rests in the measure of . . . wonder."

She stared at him, clearly confused.

He felt no inclination to elaborate. She would see, in time. "I would go to welcome these new ones," he said, eyes returning to the approaching strangers. "Will you join me, Menandore?"

"You must be mad." Words filled with affection – yes, she could never rail at him for very long. Something of his father's ethereal ease, perhaps – an ease even Rud himself could remember from that single, short visit. An ease that would slip over the Letherii's regular, unimpressive features, whenever the wave of pain, dismay – or indeed any harsh emotion – was past and gone, leaving not a ripple in its wake.

That ease, Rud now understood, was the true face of Udinaas. The face of his soul.

Father, I do so look forward to seeing you again.

he’s a slave, he owes Rhulad nothing, certainly not loyalty, nobody could blame him if he ran away when he got the chance...

...but he didn’t. he didn’t run away by choice, he was forced, and that makes everything several levels more fucked up because as a reader you kinda wish he’d stayed (or at least I wish) because things might have been slightly less awful if Rhulad had him...

Naught but bones, bound by fire.

The huge skeletal beast tossed its head as it wheeled round. The woman was masked in flat, featureless gold. A headdress of arching, gilt scales rose like hackles about her head. Weapons lifted.

And Udinaas stared into her eyes.

He flinched away, scrabbling to his feet, then running.

Hoofs pounded behind him.

Daughter Dawn. Menandore-

Before him were sprawled the warriors that had walked alongside the one dragging him. Flames licking along wounds, dull smoke rising from torn flesh. None moved. They keep dying, don't they? Again and again. They keep dying-

He ran.

Then was struck. A wall of ridged bone smashing into his right shoulder, spinning him through the air. He hit the ground, tumbled and rolled, limbs flopping.

His eyes stared up into swirling dust, the sky behind it spinning.

A shape appeared in its midst, and a hard-soled boot settled on his chest.

When she spoke, her voice was like the hissing of a thousand snakes. "The blood of a Locqui Wyval… in the body of a slave. Which heart, mortal, will you ride?"

"A slave."

"But I am Tiste Edur."

"Yes, Emperor."

A scowl. "The gift of a life returned."

"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."

The Travellers