Steven Erikson - Forge of Darkness

‘Yes. Inform the kitchens I will eat following my meeting with my father.’

‘Of course, milord.’

Osserc strode inside. The lower floor was crowded with workers — masons and carpenters and their flit-eyed apprentices — and the air was filled with dust, the stone paving underfoot coated in sawdust and the crumbled plaster that was all that remained of the old friezes that had once adorned every wall. He was forced to step round men and women, their tools and the blocks of marble and beams of rare wood, and these obstacles only darkened his mood. When he reached the study, he thumped heavily on the door and entered without awaiting invitation.

His father was standing over his map table, but this scene lost its martial pretensions in the details, since he leaned over an array of fired clay tablets, and the clothing he wore was ink-stained and spotted with dried droplets of amber wax. Urusander was unshaven and his long hair, streaked with grey, hung down in greasy strands.

Osserc strode forward until he stood opposite his father, the broad table between them.

‘You are in need of a bath,’ Urusander said without looking up.

‘I bring word from Hunn Raal, and Commander Calat Hustain.’

Urusander glanced up. ‘Calat Hustain? You were in the Outer Reach? Why did Hunn Raal take you there?’

‘We were visiting, Father. In the company of Kagamandra Tulas and Ilgast Rend, as well as Sharenas Ankhadu.’

Urusander was studying him. ‘Then where is Raal? I think I need a word with him.’

‘He rides in haste to Kharkanas, Father. There is dire news, which sent him to the Citadel, to audience with Mother Dark, and this same news sent me here, to you.’

Urusander’s expression was severe and it seemed to age him. ‘Out with it, then.’

‘A new threat, Father. Invasion — from the Sea of Vitr.’

‘Nothing comes from the Vitr.’

‘Until now,’ Osserc replied. ‘Father, this was of such importance that Sharenas and Kagamandra both rode out across Glimmer Fate to the very shore of the Vitr to see for themselves. Hunn Raal carried the news to the Citadel. Kurald Galain is under threat. Again.’

Urusander looked down but said nothing.

Osserc stepped closer to the table, until he felt its worn edge against his legs. ‘Mother Dark will have no choice,’ he said. ‘She will need the Legion once more. Sevegg, Risp and Serap have all ridden out, to carry word to the garrisons and to the decommissioned. Father, the flag must be raised-’

Urusander was studying the clay tablets, but at that he shook his head and said, ‘I have no interest in doing so.’

‘Then I will stand in your stead-’

‘I — you are not ready.’

‘In your eyes I will never be ready!’

Instead of replying to that accusation, instead of easing Osserc’s deepest fear, Urusander stepped away from the table and walked to the window behind him.

Osserc glared at his father’s back. He wanted to sweep the tablets from the tabletop, send them on to the floor to shatter into dust. For the briefest of instants, he wanted to drive a knife into his father, deep between the shoulder blades, straight down into the heart. But he did none of these things; he but stood, trembling against all that his father’s silence told him. Yes, son. You will never be ready. ‘What must I do to convince you?’ he asked, hating the weakness in his tone.

Urusander folded his hands behind his back but did not turn from whatever he was looking at through the murky window panes. ‘Give me one thought not made in haste, Osserc. Just one.’ He glanced over a shoulder, momentarily, and there was grief in his eyes. ‘And I will cling to it as if it were the Spar of Andii itself.’

Uncomprehending, Osserc shook his head. ‘Will you keep your only son beneath the respect of everyone? Your own soldiers? Why? Why do that to me?’

‘And if I make you commander of the Legion, you will have all the respect you so need?’

‘Yes!’

Urusander had turned back to the window. He now reached up and rubbed a smudge on the frail glass. ‘By title and the burden of responsibility, you will find all you yearn for? You will find this “respect” you’ve heard so much about, from old veterans and drunk fools; from the poets and what you think you see upon the wood panels so finely brushed into likenesses — from historians and other whores of glory?’

Osserc feared for his father’s mind. He struggled to return Urusander to this world, where matters of import needed to be discussed. ‘Father, listen to me. Mother Dark will summon you.’

‘I imagine that she will.’ But when he faced Osserc once more Urusander’s eyes were grave and wounded. ‘And in you, where there was weakness, there will be strength. And where there was strength, there will now be inflexible certainty. Doubts will drown, humility throat-cut and left face down in the mud, and on all sides they will salute you and hang upon your every word — which they must do, since you will hold their lives in your hands, Osserc. Not just your soldiers, but all of Kurald Galain. Every child, every child — do you comprehend any of this?’

‘You think me afraid? I am not, Father.’

‘I know, but I wish you were. Afraid. Terrified.’

‘You would have me frozen as a hare beneath a hawk’s shadow?’

‘I would have you afraid, Osserc. I would see you afraid — here, before me in this moment. I would see you realize that fear, and yet take its vast weight upon your shoulders, and stand strong. Resolute. I would see command humble you.’

‘Then, Father, I ask you. How will you ever see any of that if you do not give me command?’

‘Still you do not understand, do you?’

‘Because you offer, only to take away!’

‘Is it only commanders who know fear? What of the crippled widower who can no longer support his family? Or the widow with too many children to feed? What of the lone wanderer who spends a night without shelter when the wolves are hunting? What of the broken man who must rise to face every morning when all love is dead and all hope is lost? Tell me, who does not live with fear?’

‘Father, you give me nothing with these words. What fears have I faced, when you have kept me locked up here instead of riding with you and your soldiers?’

Urusander sighed. ‘You will find a soldier’s fear in your time, Osserc. I never doubted your courage with blade in hand and self-preservation the wager.’

Even a compliment from his father could sting in its utterance. Before he could muster a reply, however, his father continued. ‘Osserc, why did you ever imagine that I would give you the Legion?’

The question struck like a blow against his chest. Osserc felt his knees weaken and he almost reeled. ‘But — Hunn Raal said-’

Urusander’s brows lifted. ‘Hunn Raal? He’s like a lame dog I can’t keep from under my feet. He’s an Issgin — of course he does nothing but sniff my heels for any scrap he can find. The Issgin yearn for a return to the court, and he’s the closest of their brood to that and no doubt he imagines himself almost within reach of it. He rode to bring word to Mother Dark? He seeks an actual audience with her?’ Urusander shook his head. ‘The man is a drunk with a drunk’s bloated self-image — Abyss knows, drunks think themselves clever, and measure the prowess of their wit by the genius of their rationalizations. Of course, the first fool they deceive is themselves. There will be no audience with Mother Dark. Not for Captain Hunn Raal.’

‘But I am your son! Who else should inherit the Legion?’

‘Inherit? Is Kurald Galain’s only standing army a thing to be inherited? Like a keep, or a precious bauble? Is it a mine? A forge? A fine horse? A throne? Have you understood nothing? One cannot inherit the Legion — one must earn the right to the privilege of commanding it.’