Reaper's Gale (The Malazan Book of the Fallen 7) - Page 469

From a side entrance, the new Chancellor entered in a swirl of gaudy robes. Brys hid his wince. Who would have thought she’d plunge right into bad taste like a grub into an apple?

‘Ah,’ Tehol said, ‘doesn’t my Chancellor look lovely this morning?’

Janath’s expression remained aloof. ‘Chancellors are not supposed to look lovely. Competence and elegance will suffice.’

‘No wonder you stand out so in here,’ Bugg muttered.

‘Besides,’ Janath continued, ‘such descriptions are better suited to the role of First Concubine, which tells me precisely which brain you’re thinking with, beloved husband. Again.’

Tehol held up his hands as if in surrender, then he said in his most reasonable tone-one Brys recognized with faint dismay-‘I still see no reason why you can’t be First Concubine as well.’

‘I keep telling you,’ Bugg said. ‘Wife to the Emperor means she’s Empress.’ He then turned to Janath. ‘Giving you three legitimate titles.’

‘Don’t forget scholar,’ Tehol observed, ‘which most would hold cancels out all the others. Even wife.’

‘Why,’ said Bugg, ‘now your lessons will never end.’

Another moment of silence, as everyone considered all this.

Then Tehol stirred on his throne. ‘There’s always Rucket! She’d make a fine First Concubine! Goodness, how the blessings flow over.’

Janath said, ‘Careful you don’t drown, Tehol.’

‘Bugg would never let that happen, sweetness. Oh, since we’re discussing important matters before the Adjunct arrives to say goodbye, I was thinking that Preda Varat Taun needs an able Finadd to assist his reconstruction efforts and all that.’

Brys straightened. Finally, they were getting to genuine subjects. ‘Who did you have in mind?’

‘Why, none other than Ublala Pung!’

Bugg said, ‘I’m going for a walk.’ * * *

Using an iron bar as a lever, Seren Pedac struggled with the heavy pavestones at the entrance to her house. Sweat glistened on her bared arms and her hair had come loose from its ties-she would get it cut short soon. As befitted her life now.

But on this morning, this task remained before her, and she set about it with unrelenting diligence, using her body without regard to the consequences. Prying loose the heavy stones, dragging and pushing them to one side with scraped and bleeding hands.

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From a side entrance, the new Chancellor entered in a swirl of gaudy robes. Brys hid his wince. Who would have thought she’d plunge right into bad taste like a grub into an apple?

‘Ah,’ Tehol said, ‘doesn’t my Chancellor look lovely this morning?’

Janath’s expression remained aloof. ‘Chancellors are not supposed to look lovely. Competence and elegance will suffice.’

‘No wonder you stand out so in here,’ Bugg muttered.

‘Besides,’ Janath continued, ‘such descriptions are better suited to the role of First Concubine, which tells me precisely which brain you’re thinking with, beloved husband. Again.’

Tehol held up his hands as if in surrender, then he said in his most reasonable tone-one Brys recognized with faint dismay-‘I still see no reason why you can’t be First Concubine as well.’

‘I keep telling you,’ Bugg said. ‘Wife to the Emperor means she’s Empress.’ He then turned to Janath. ‘Giving you three legitimate titles.’

‘Don’t forget scholar,’ Tehol observed, ‘which most would hold cancels out all the others. Even wife.’

‘Why,’ said Bugg, ‘now your lessons will never end.’

Another moment of silence, as everyone considered all this.

Then Tehol stirred on his throne. ‘There’s always Rucket! She’d make a fine First Concubine! Goodness, how the blessings flow over.’

Janath said, ‘Careful you don’t drown, Tehol.’

‘Bugg would never let that happen, sweetness. Oh, since we’re discussing important matters before the Adjunct arrives to say goodbye, I was thinking that Preda Varat Taun needs an able Finadd to assist his reconstruction efforts and all that.’

Brys straightened. Finally, they were getting to genuine subjects. ‘Who did you have in mind?’

‘Why, none other than Ublala Pung!’

Bugg said, ‘I’m going for a walk.’ * * *

Using an iron bar as a lever, Seren Pedac struggled with the heavy pavestones at the entrance to her house. Sweat glistened on her bared arms and her hair had come loose from its ties-she would get it cut short soon. As befitted her life now.

But on this morning, this task remained before her, and she set about it with unrelenting diligence, using her body without regard to the consequences. Prying loose the heavy stones, dragging and pushing them to one side with scraped and bleeding hands.

Once done, she would take a shovel to the underfill, as far down as she could manage.

For the moment, however, the centre stone was defeating her, and she feared she would not have the strength to move it.

‘Pardon my intrusion,’ said a man’s voice, ‘but it looks as if you need help.’

She looked up from where she leaned on the bar. Squinted sceptically. ‘Not sure you want to risk that, sir,’ she said to the old man, and then fell silent. He had a mason’s wrists, with large, well-worked hands. She wiped sweat from her brow and frowned down at the pavestone. ‘I know, this must look.,. unusual. Where everywhere else in the city people are putting things back, here I am…’

The old man approached. ‘Not in the least, Acquitor-you were an Acquitor, were you not?’

‘Uh, yes. I was. Not any more. I’m Seren Pedac’

‘No, not in the least, then, Seren Pedac’

She gestured at the centre stone. ‘This one defeats me, I’m afraid.’

‘Not for long, I suspect, no matter what. You seem very determined.’

She smiled, and was startled by how odd it felt. When had she last smiled-no, she would not think back to that.

‘But you should be careful,’ the old man continued. ‘Here, let me try.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, stepping back to give him room.

The old man promptly bent the bar.

She stared.

Cursing, he set it aside, then crouched down to dig his fingers into one side of the enormous stone block.

And pulled it into its edge, then, hands going out to the sides, he lifted it with a grunt, pivoted, staggered two steps, and laid it down atop the others. He straightened, brushing dust from his hands. ‘Hire a couple of young men to put it back when you’re done.’

‘How-no, well. But. How do you know I intend to put it back?’

He glanced across at her. ‘Do not grieve overlong, Seren Pedac. You are needed. Your life is needed.’

And then he bowed to her and left.

She stared after him.

She needed to go inside now, to collect the stone spear and his sword, to bury the weapons beneath the threshold of her home, her terribly empty home.

Tags: Steven Erikson The Malazan Book of the Fallen Fantasy
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