She stood, knee-deep in the refuse, contemplating physically removing the bar. But that might make things even messier. Less than a hand’s width projected out, after all. Hard not to notice, but far less egregious than, say, an arm’s length. A visit to Tehol Beddict seemed incumbent, if only for endless advice she could take pleasure in rejecting.
Alas, she realized, she would have to wait for night, since there was no way she could get to his home without being seen. There had been a time, long ago, when she liked attention. Admiring regards and all that, and it was always satisfying to flaunt her qualities. But a bar in the head took fashion sense to excess by any standard of measure. People would notice, and not in a good way.
Disconsolate, Shurq Elalle sat down in the rubbish. To await the coming of night.
‘What happened to the legs of my bed?’
‘We needed the wood, master.’
‘Yes, but why only three of them?’
‘I was saving the other one for later. I found a bag of something that might be tea.’
‘Well.’ Tehol sat up. ‘I’m just amazed I slept through it.’
‘You were clearly very tired, master.’
‘Yes, which is very understandable, given how busy I’ve been. I have been busy, haven’t I?’
‘I could not say, having been too busy myself to take much notice. But I have faith in your proclamations, master. You certainly slept like a man who’d been busy.’
‘Seems proof enough, I would say. I’m convinced. Now, while I’ve been working myself senseless, you make claim to having had many things on your table. Let’s hear about them.’
‘Very well, master. We’re more or less done with the wings of the Eternal Domicile. Dry, foundations restored, my crews cleaning up. There have been some complaints about the cold draughts in the Fifth Wing, but that’s not my problem, strictly speaking.’
‘Why the cold draughts, Bugg?’
‘Presumably related to the shoring methods I employed, but they don’t know that.’
‘And why should your shoring methods make it cold? Bugg, do I detect some discomfort in your demeanour?’
‘Discomfort, master? Not at all. Are you certain you want the details of this matter?’
‘When you put it that way, probably not. So, is that all you’ve been doing?’
‘I’ve also been here and there, working through all the rumours to see if I could glean some truth. I have accordingly assembled a list of facts.’
‘A list. Wonderful. I love lists. They’re so… ordered.’
‘Indeed, master. Shall I proceed? Well, the northern frontier belongs to the Tiste Edur, as do all the coastal cities all the way down to Height and possibly Old Gedure. It is believed the Edur fleets are in the Ouster Sea, opposite Lenth and therefore on the edge of Gedry Bay. From this one must assume they intend to sail up Lether River. Possibly with the aim of arriving in concert with the land armies. It is clear that the Tiste Edur are marching on Letheras and are planning to conquer it and take the throne. Whether this will succeed in triggering the capitulation of the entire kingdom remains to be seen. Personally, I believe it will. Nor do I think the protectorates will go much beyond restlessness. To do otherwise would be suicidal.’
‘If you say so, Bugg. Are the Tiste Edur that formidable, then?’
The manservant ran a hand through his thinning hair, then glanced over at the bodyguard who was standing, silent as ever, near the hatch. ‘Again, master, countless rumours. I would hazard the following observations regarding the Tiste Edur. Their new emperor is in possession of terrible power, but the sorcery the Edur are using does not come from their traditional sources. Not Kurald Emurlahn, although it remains part of their arsenal. In the battles thus far, they have been profligate in their use of shadow wraiths and KenylPrah demons, both of whom are reluctant participants.’
‘Kurald what? Kenyll who? Who’s whispering these rumours anyway?’
‘Ah, that brings me to my third set of observations. Having to do with the dead.’
‘The dead. Of course. Go on, please.’
‘This subcontinent, the region ranging from Tiste Edur lands to the north, Bluerose and Awl’d’an to the east, and Descent and D’aliban to the south – it is a rather peculiar region, master, and has been since, well, since the earliest times. There are, uh, no pathways. For the dead, I mean. For their spirits.’
‘I don’t quite understand you, Bugg,’ Tehol said, rising from the rickety bed and beginning to pace along the rooftop. The bodyguard’s gaze tracked him. ‘The dead are just dead. Ghosts linger because they have nowhere else to go and are disinclined to go sightseeing in any case. What kind of pathways are you talking about?’