The Darkness that Comes Before (34 page)
Read The Darkness that Comes Before Online
Authors: R. Scott Bakker
To the heart of the matter so quickly. It was inelegant. Brutish.
“What do you intend to do, Xerius?” Istriya asked. “It’s not merely your shrewish, sometimes impolitic mother who frets over these portentous events. Even the more dependable Houses of the Congregate are alarmed. One way or another, we must act.”
“I’ve never known you to be impolitic, Mother . . . Only to appear so.”
“Answer me, Xerius. What do you intend to do?”
Xerius sighed audibly. “It’s no longer a question of intent, Mother. The deed has been accomplished. The Conriyan dog, Calmemunis, has sent envoys. He’ll sign the Indenture tomorrow afternoon. He gives his personal assurance that the riots and raids end as of today.”
“Calmemunis!”
his mother hissed, as though surprised. In all likelihood, she’d known this before even Xerius himself. After all the years she’d spent plotting for and against husbands and sons, her network of spies plumbed the Nansurium to the pith. “What of the other Great Names? What of the Ainoni—what’s his name?—Kumrezzer?”
his mother hissed, as though surprised. In all likelihood, she’d known this before even Xerius himself. After all the years she’d spent plotting for and against husbands and sons, her network of spies plumbed the Nansurium to the pith. “What of the other Great Names? What of the Ainoni—what’s his name?—Kumrezzer?”
“I know only that Calmemunis confers with him, Tharschilka, and some of the others today.”
With the air of a bored oracle, Conphas said, “He’ll sign as well.”
“And what makes you so certain of that?” Istriya asked.
Conphas raised his bowl, and one of the ubiquitous slaves scurried forward to refill it. “All the early arrivals will sign. It should’ve occurred to me earlier, but now that I think about it, it seems plain that these fools fear the arrival of the
others
more than anything else. They think themselves invincible. Tell them the Fanim are as terrible in war as the Scylvendi and they laugh, remind you the God Himself rides at their side.”
others
more than anything else. They think themselves invincible. Tell them the Fanim are as terrible in war as the Scylvendi and they laugh, remind you the God Himself rides at their side.”
“So what are you saying?” Istriya asked.
Without thinking, Xerius had leaned forward in his settee. “Yes, Nephew. What are you saying?”
Conphas sipped from his bowl, shrugged. “They think triumph is assured them, so why share it? Or even worse, give it away altogether to their undeserving betters? Think. When Nersei Proyas arrives, Calmemunis will be little more than one of his lieutenants. The same applies to Tharschilka and Kumrezzer. When the main contingents from Galeoth and High Ainon arrive, they’re sure to lose their pre-eminent positions. As of now, the Holy War’s theirs, and they wish to wield—”
“You must delay the distribution of provisions, then, Xerius,” Istriya interrupted. “Prevent them from marching.”
“Perhaps,” Skeaös added, “we can tell them we’ve found weevils in our granaries.”
Xerius stared at his mother and nephew, trying to smooth the sneer from his expression. This was where their knowledge ended, and where his genius began. Not even Conphas, the cunning snake, could anticipate him on this. “No,” he said. “They march.”
Istriya stared at him, her face looking as astonished as her prunish skin would allow.
“Perhaps,” Conphas said, “we should dismiss the slaves.”
With a clap Xerius sent oiled bodies fleeing from the deck.
“What’s the meaning of this, Xerius?” Istriya asked. Her voice quavered, as though robbed of breath by shock.
Conphas studied him, his lips hooked in a mild smile. “I think I know, Grandmother. Could it be, Uncle, that the Padirajah has asked for a . . .
gesture?
”
gesture?
”
Struck mute by astonishment, Xerius gaped at his nephew. How could he have known? Too much penetration, and certainly too much ease of manner. At some level, Xerius had always been terrified of Conphas. It was more than just the man’s wit. There was something dead inside his nephew. No, more than dead—something
smooth
. With others, even with his mother—although she too had seemed so remote lately—there was always the exchange of unspoken expectations, of the small, human needs that crotched and braced all conversation, even silences. But with Conphas there were only sheer surfaces. His nephew was never moved by another. Conphas was moved by Conphas, even if at times in mimicry of being moved by others. He was a man for whom everything was a whim. A perfect man.
smooth
. With others, even with his mother—although she too had seemed so remote lately—there was always the exchange of unspoken expectations, of the small, human needs that crotched and braced all conversation, even silences. But with Conphas there were only sheer surfaces. His nephew was never moved by another. Conphas was moved by Conphas, even if at times in mimicry of being moved by others. He was a man for whom everything was a whim. A perfect man.
But to master such a man! And master him he must.
“Flatter him,” Skeaös had once told Xerius, “and be transformed into part of the glorious story that he sees as his life.” But he could not. To flatter another was to humble oneself.
“How did you know this?” Xerius snapped. His fear added, “Need I send you to Ziek to find out?”
The Tower of Ziek
—who in Nansur failed to shudder when they glimpsed it rising from the congestion of Momemn? His nephew’s eyes hardened for a moment. He had been moved—and why not?
Conphas
had been threatened.
The Tower of Ziek
—who in Nansur failed to shudder when they glimpsed it rising from the congestion of Momemn? His nephew’s eyes hardened for a moment. He had been moved—and why not?
Conphas
had been threatened.
Xerius laughed.
Istriya’s sharp voice interrupted his mirth. “How could you joke about such things, Xerius?”
Had he been joking? Perhaps he had.
“Forgive my uncouth humour, Mother, but Conphas has guessed right, guessed a secret so deadly that it would destroy us, destroy us
all,
if . . .” He paused, turned back to Conphas. “This is why I must know
how
you anticipated this.”
all,
if . . .” He paused, turned back to Conphas. “This is why I must know
how
you anticipated this.”
Conphas was wary now. “Because it’s what I would do. Skauras . . . nay,
Kian
needs to understand that
we’re
not fanatics.”
Kian
needs to understand that
we’re
not fanatics.”
Skauras
. Hawk-faced Skauras. There was an old name. The shrewd Kianene Sapatishah-Governor of Shigek and the first leathery obstacle to be overcome by the Holy War. How little the Men of the Tusk understood the lay of the land between the Rivers Phayus and Sempis! Nansur and Kian had been at intermittent war for centuries. They knew each other intimately, had sealed countless truces with lesser daughters. How many spies, ransoms, even hostages—
. Hawk-faced Skauras. There was an old name. The shrewd Kianene Sapatishah-Governor of Shigek and the first leathery obstacle to be overcome by the Holy War. How little the Men of the Tusk understood the lay of the land between the Rivers Phayus and Sempis! Nansur and Kian had been at intermittent war for centuries. They knew each other intimately, had sealed countless truces with lesser daughters. How many spies, ransoms, even hostages—
Xerius shot forward, scrutinizing his nephew. An image of Skauras’s ghostly face superimposed over that of the Cishaurim emissary floated before his soul’s eye. “Who told you?” he asked with abrupt intensity. As a youth, Conphas had spent four years as a hostage of the Kianene. In Skauras’s court no less!
Conphas looked at the floral mosaics beneath his sandalled feet. “Skauras himself,” he finally said, looking directly at Xerius. There was a playfulness in his demeanour, but that of a game played by oneself. “I’ve never broken off communication with his court. But surely your spies have told you this.”
And Xerius had worried about his mother’s resources!
“You must be wary of such things, Conphas,” Istriya said maternally. “Skauras is one of the old Kianene. A desert man. As ruthless as he’s clever. He would use you to sow dissension among us if he could. Remember always, it’s the
dynasty
that is important. House
Ikurei
.”
dynasty
that is important. House
Ikurei
.”
Those words!
Tremors spilled into Xerius’s hands. He clasped them together. Attempted to gather his thoughts. Looked away from their wolfish faces. All those years ago! Fumbling with a small black vial the size of a child’s finger, pouring the poison into his father’s ear. His
father!
And his mother’s . . . no,
Istriya’s
voice thundering in his thoughts:
The dynasty, Xerius! The dynasty!
Tremors spilled into Xerius’s hands. He clasped them together. Attempted to gather his thoughts. Looked away from their wolfish faces. All those years ago! Fumbling with a small black vial the size of a child’s finger, pouring the poison into his father’s ear. His
father!
And his mother’s . . . no,
Istriya’s
voice thundering in his thoughts:
The dynasty, Xerius! The dynasty!
Her husband, she’d decided, had neither claw nor fang enough to keep the dynasty alive.
What was happening here? What were they doing? Plotting? He glanced at the old, adulterate witch, wanting to
want
to have her killed. But for as long as he could remember, she had been the totem, the sacred fetish that held the mad machinery of power in place. The old, insatiable Empress alone was indispensable. Those times, in his youth, when she had awakened him in the heart of night, stroking his cock, tormenting him with pleasure, cooing into his tongue-wet ear:
“Emperor Xerius . . . Can you feel it, my lovely, godlike son?”
She had been so beautiful then.
want
to have her killed. But for as long as he could remember, she had been the totem, the sacred fetish that held the mad machinery of power in place. The old, insatiable Empress alone was indispensable. Those times, in his youth, when she had awakened him in the heart of night, stroking his cock, tormenting him with pleasure, cooing into his tongue-wet ear:
“Emperor Xerius . . . Can you feel it, my lovely, godlike son?”
She had been so beautiful then.
It had been across her hand that he’d first come, and she’d taken his seed and bid him taste it.
“The future,”
she had said,
“tastes of salt . . . And it stings, Xerius, my lovely child . . .”
That warm laugh that had wrapped cold marble with comfort.
“Taste how it stings . . .”
“The future,”
she had said,
“tastes of salt . . . And it stings, Xerius, my lovely child . . .”
That warm laugh that had wrapped cold marble with comfort.
“Taste how it stings . . .”
“Do you see?” Istriya was saying. “Do you see how it troubles him? This is what Skauras hopes for.”
Conphas had been watching him carefully. “I’m not a fool, Grandmother. And no heathen living could make me a fool, either.
Especially
Skauras. Nevertheless, I do apologize, Uncle. I should’ve told you this earlier.”
Especially
Skauras. Nevertheless, I do apologize, Uncle. I should’ve told you this earlier.”
Xerius looked at both of them blankly. Outside the sun was fierce, bright enough to press the patterns stitched into the red canopy across the interior: animals entwined in circles around the Black Sun seal of Nansur. Everywhere—throughout the sanguine shade of the canopy, across furniture, floor, and limb—the Sun of the Empire ringed by incestuous beasts.
A thousand suns,
he thought, feeling himself calm.
Across all the old provinces, a thousand suns! Our ancient strongholds will be retaken. The Empire will be restored!
he thought, feeling himself calm.
Across all the old provinces, a thousand suns! Our ancient strongholds will be retaken. The Empire will be restored!
“Compose yourself, my son,” Istriya was saying. “I know you’re not so foolish as to suggest that Calmemunis and the others march against the Kianene, or that sacrificing all the Men of the Tusk gathered so far is the ‘gesture’ my grandson refers to. That would be madness, and the Emperor of Nansur is not mad. Is he, Xerius?”
During this time, the shouts they’d heard earlier had been growing nearer. Xerius stood and walked to the starboard rail. Leaning, he saw the first of the barge-towing longboats creep from behind the distant banks. He glimpsed the rowers, like the spine of a centipede. Their backs flashed in the sun.
Soon . . .
He turned to his mother and nephew, then glanced at Skeaös, who was wooden in the way of accidental interlopers. “The Empire covets what it has lost,” Xerius said wearily. “Nothing more. And it will sacrifice anything, even a Holy War, to gain what it covets.” So easily said! Such words were the world in small.
“You
are
mad!” Istriya cried. “So you’ll send these first outlanders to their deaths, halve the Holy War, simply to show thrice-damned Skauras you’re not a religious lunatic? You squander fortune, Xerius, and you tempt the endless wrath of the Gods!”
are
mad!” Istriya cried. “So you’ll send these first outlanders to their deaths, halve the Holy War, simply to show thrice-damned Skauras you’re not a religious lunatic? You squander fortune, Xerius, and you tempt the endless wrath of the Gods!”
The violence of her response shocked him. But it mattered little what she thought of his plans. It was Conphas he needed . . . Xerius watched him.
After a stern moment of deliberation, Conphas slowly nodded and said, “I see.”
“You see
reason
in this?” Istriya hissed.
reason
in this?” Istriya hissed.
Conphas shot Xerius an appraising look. “Think, Grandmother. Far more men are set to arrive than those who’ve gathered so far—true Great Names such as Saubon, Proyas, even Chepheramunni, King-Regent of High Ainon! But more important, it would seem the vulgar masses have been the first to answer Maithanet’s call, those ill-prepared, stirred by sentiment more than the sober spirit of war. To lose this rabble would be to our advantage in innumerable ways: fewer stomachs to feed, a more cohesive army in the field . . .” He paused and turned to Xerius with what could only be described as wonder in his eyes—or something near to it. “And it would teach the Shriah, and those who follow, to
fear
the Fanim. Their dependence upon us, upon those who already respect the heathen, will grow with the measure of their fear.”
fear
the Fanim. Their dependence upon us, upon those who already respect the heathen, will grow with the measure of their fear.”
“Madness!”
Istriya spat, unmoved by her grandson’s defection. “What? Do we then war against the Kianene under the conditions of some secret treaty? Why should we give them anything now, when we’re at last in a position to seize? To break the back of a hated foe! And you would parlay with them? Say, ‘I will lop off this and this limb but no other’?
Madness!
”
Istriya spat, unmoved by her grandson’s defection. “What? Do we then war against the Kianene under the conditions of some secret treaty? Why should we give them anything now, when we’re at last in a position to seize? To break the back of a hated foe! And you would parlay with them? Say, ‘I will lop off this and this limb but no other’?
Madness!
”
“But are ‘we’ in such a position, Grandmother?” Conphas replied, the filial deference now absent from his tone. “Think! Who’s ‘we’ here? Certainly not the Ikurei. ‘We’ means the Thousand Temples.
Maithanet
swings this hammer—or have you forgotten?—while we merely scramble to pocket the pieces. Maithanet beggars us, Grandmother! So far he’s done everything in his power to geld us. That’s why he invited the Scarlet Spires, is it not? To avoid paying the price we’d demand for the Imperial Saik?”
Maithanet
swings this hammer—or have you forgotten?—while we merely scramble to pocket the pieces. Maithanet beggars us, Grandmother! So far he’s done everything in his power to geld us. That’s why he invited the Scarlet Spires, is it not? To avoid paying the price we’d demand for the Imperial Saik?”
“Spare me your picture-book explanations, Conphas. I’m not yet such an old, doddering fool.” She turned to Xerius, glared at him with scathing eyes. His amusement must have been plain. “So, Calmemunis, Tharschilka, and countless thousands of others are destroyed. The herd is culled. What then, Xerius?”
Xerius could not help smiling. Such a plan! Even the great Ikurei Conphas was in awe! And Maithanet . . . The thought made Xerius want to chortle like a imbecile.
“What then? Our Shriah learns
fear
. Respect. All his mummery—all his sacrifices, hymns, and wheedling—will have been for naught. As you said earlier, Mother, the Gods cannot be bribed.”
fear
. Respect. All his mummery—all his sacrifices, hymns, and wheedling—will have been for naught. As you said earlier, Mother, the Gods cannot be bribed.”
“But you can.”
Xerius laughed. “Of course I can. If Maithanet commands the Great Names to sign my Indenture, to swear the return of all the old provinces to the Empire, then I will give them”—he turned to his nephew and lowered his head—“the Lion of Kiyuth.”
“Splendid!” Conphas cried. “Why didn’t I see it? Thrash them with one hand in order to soothe them with the other. Brilliant, Uncle! The Holy War
will
be ours. The Empire will be restored!”
will
be ours. The Empire will be restored!”
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