Dust of dreams

Dust of Dreams Also by Steven Erikson Gardens of the Moon Dead house Gates Memories of Ice House of Chains Midnight Tides The Bonehunters Reaper’s Gale Toll the Hounds STEVEN ERIKSON Dust of Dreams BOOK NINE OF THE MALAZAN BOOK OF THE FALLEN A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK NEW YORK This is a work of fiction All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously DUST OF DREAMS: BOOK NINE OF THE MALAZAN BOOK OF THE FALLEN Copyright © 2009 by Steven Erikson First published in Great Britain by Bantam Press, a division of Transworld Publishers All rights reserved Map by Neil Gower A Tor Book Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC 175 Fifth Avenue New York, NY 10010 www.tor-forge.com Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Erikson, Steven Dust of dreams / Steven Erikson — 1st ed p cm —(The Malazan book of the fallen ; bk 9) “A Tom Doherty Associates book.” ISBN 978-0-7653-1009-5 (hardcover) ISBN 978-0-7653-1655-4 (trade paperback) I Title PR9199.4.E745D87 2010 813'.6—dc22 2009040411 First U.S Edition: January 2010 Printed in the United States of America Ten years ago I received an endorsement from a most unexpected source, from a writer I respected and admired The friendship born in that moment is one I deeply treasure With love and gratitude, I dedicate this novel to Stephen R Donaldson Contents ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AUTHOR’S NOTE MAP DRAMATIS PERSONAE PROLOGUE BOOK ONE The Sea Does Not Dream Of You BOOK TWO Eaters of Diamonds and Gems BOOK THREE Only the Dust Will Dance BOOK FOUR The Path Forever Walked Acknowledgments Commenting on the first half of a very long, two-volume novel is not an easy task My thanks (and sympathy) go to William Hunter, Hazel Kendall, Bowen Thomas-Lundin, and Aidan-Paul Canavan for their percipience and forbearance Appreciation also goes to the staff at The Black Stilt and Café Macchiato in Victoria who were very understanding in my surrender to caffeine-free coffee Thanks too to Clare Thomas; and special gratitude goes to my students in the writing workshop I have been conducting for the past few months Shannon, Margaret, Shigenori, Brenda, Jade, and Lenore: you have helped remind me what fiction writing is all about The concussions of the two impacts shook the earth The hills to the west were crushed flat The remnants of the keeps blew apart in vast clouds of dust and rock At this same moment the wave passed directly over Kalyth and the three K’Chain Che’Malle, carrying with it air so cold it stunned her lungs Gasping, agony convulsing her chest, she did not see the wave strike the three sky keeps above the battlefield The explosions deafened her—darkness rushed in, even as Gunth Mach staggered The arrival of a second Che’Malle keep filled the sky with a storm of violence Above them, Gesler could see nothing but churning clouds and deathly flashes—even the bulks of the keeps had vanished It seemed as if the sky itself burned, raining white-hot stones that snapped as they shot down through bitterly cold air Impossibly, snow swirled down amidst ashes and rubble Nah’ruk keeps crowded the warren’s gate, as if seeking to break through to bring succour to those dying before the stranger’s onslaught, but wave after wave slammed into them, and the unknown Uprooted was bulling ever closer, as if to drive down the very throat of the warren Lightning lashed into it, tore huge gashes in its flanks Death poured down from the sky Gesler’s mount towered amidst the K’ell Hunters crowded in on all sides— he knew the K’ell were providing a cordon around them—though nothing could defend any of them against the deadly deluge from above He could see the rear Nah’ruk Furies committing to the battle—they had been and were still being decimated by falling wreckage Even so, sheer numbers alone were beginning to tell Stormy’s Ve’Gath had ceased their advance, but Gesler could see his friend, the battle lust upon him, his face red as his hair, his eyes blazing with madness ‘Stormy! Stormy! Androjan Redarr, you brainless bastard!’ The head swung round The man smiled Gods below, Stormy ‘We’re encircled!’ ‘And we’re cutting ’em to pieces!’ ‘We need to break out—the sky’s killing us!’ ‘Withdraw your K’ell! Regroup and set up a charge!’ ‘Which side?’ ‘Whatever’s behind Kalse!’ Kalse I ain’t been paying attention ‘And you?’ ‘Back-to-back wedges—we’re driving out to the fucking sides! You watch ’em pour into the gap and then you charge ’em! We about face and close the vice!’ Stormy, you Hood-damned genius ‘Agreed!’ The pain was overwhelming He bled from wounds sheathing his body Blow after blow hammered into him Blind, deafened, he struck back, not even knowing if his sorcery found the enemy He felt himself tearing loose, moments from being ripped from his flesh of cracked stone, his bones of tortured iron I shall become a ghost again Lost Where are my children? You have abandoned me—there are too many of them, they close like wolves—my children—help me— ‘You must close the gate.’ Breath? ‘Yes Feather Witch The Errant drowned me I took his eye, he took my life Never bargain with gods His eye—I give it to you, Lifestealer The gate —do you see it? You are drawing nearer—Lifestealer, not stop—’ Another voice spoke ‘They killed a dragon for this power, Icarium.’ Taxilian? ‘Its blood burned this hole—if you fail, the sky shall fill with the enemy machines—and the Nah’ruk will triumph this day See the K’Chain Che’Malle, Icarium? They can win this—if you stop the Gath’ran Citadels, if you stop them from entering this realm Seal the gate!’ He could see it now He held in his hand the eye of an Elder God Slick, soft, smeared with blood The wound between the realms was vast—even Kalse Uprooted could not — ‘You must build a wall—’ ‘A prison!’ Feather Witch hissed, ‘Root and Blueiron, Lifestealer! Ice Haunt is not enough! You must awaken the warrens within you! Root to the rock and earth Blueiron to hold life in your machines Command the breach!’ ‘I cannot hold I am dying.’ ‘There are children in the world, Icarium.’ ‘Asane? You not understand You are not enough—’ ‘There are children in the world The warrens you have made from your own blood—’ Feather Witch snarled ‘Our blood!’ ‘And ours, yes The warrens, Icarium—did you imagine they belonged to you and none other? It is too late for that This day is the day of fire, Icarium The children wait The children hear.’ In his mind, even as it crumbled on all sides, he could hear a new voice, a sweet voice, one he had never heard before ‘I dream we are three Rutt who is not Rutt and Held Who cannot be held— The girl knows silence Is a game The boy knows the kiss Of the Eres’al The mother of wheeling stars Who seeds all time Through me they hear your need I am the voice of the unborn In crystal I see fire and I see smoke I see lizards and Fathers In crystal I see the boy and the girl Heal the wound, God, Your children are close—’ Rautos whispered—the last words Icarium would remember ‘Icarium, in the name of a blessed wife have faith.’ Faith He took hold of that word His hand closed about the eye and he heard the shriek of an Elder God, as he transformed the eye into what he needed For Root A seed A Finnest Kalyth saw Kalse Uprooted plunge into the maw, and then halt as a storm of lightning tore into it The very sky seemed to tremble, and then the ground began to shake, and as she stared, she saw stone burst upward from the plain, directly beneath Kalse The bedrock lifted like gnarled arms, as if an enormous upended tree was flinging roots into the air Those roots rose yet higher, touched the base of Kalse Uprooted, and then spread in a frenzy outward Branches of rock twisted, crowded against the edges of the gate, where fires flared only to vanish The Wastelands seemed to grow ashen on all sides, as if the very last drops of its lifeblood were being drawn into this savage growth The four surviving Nah’ruk sky keeps on this side of the portal unleashed a frenzied assault upon Kalse Stone exploded Massive fissures ripped through, spewing molten rock—the entire city was moments from bursting apart The stranger fails—but, such glory! To see this! To witness such courage! The stone tree—if that was what it was—did not cease its mad growth, and she saw roots curl into the wounds in the city’s flanks Where the lightning struck the writhing stone, the sound of the impacts boomed deeper than any thunder, but everywhere that wounds broke open stone swarmed in to heal the damage All at once the attacks ceased Sudden heat washed down upon Kalyth and she cried out in pain The four Nah’ruk sky keeps were engulfed in flames, reeling away from the gate The fires brightened, and then, in a flash, burst incandescent white at their cores As she watched, in horror, in wonder, the keeps seemed to be vaporizing before her eyes Churning, the towering pillars of fire pitched eastward, beneath them the ground blackening with scorching heat Gunth Mach spoke in her mind ‘Destriant See through my eyes Do you see?’ ‘Yes,’ she whispered Two figures stood upon a torn, ruined ridge to the northwest Sorcery poured from them in terrible waves A boy A girl He didn’t care The world could be moments from being swallowed by the Abyss itself, Stormy was finally in the midst of war’s sharpest truths and nothing else—nothing—mattered Laughing, he slashed and hacked at the Nah’ruk as they pressed in, as the dead-eyed lizards sought to clamber over the Ve’Gath, sought by numbers alone to overwhelm this savage wall of denial Gesler’s charge down the pocket had pierced the bastards like a boarsticker, forcing them into the narrow spaces between the frenzied K’ell and the shield-locked Ve’Gath They fought with appalling ferocity, and died in chilling silence His mount was wounded His mount was probably dying—who could tell? All these lizards fought until their last breath But its defences had slowed, weakened There was blood everywhere and he could feel its chest heaving with shuddering cadence A short-snouted maw lunged at his face Cursing, he pitched back to avoid the snapping dagger teeth, struggled to draw close his short-handled axe—but the damned Nah’ruk surged still closer, clawing its way up the Ve’Gath’s shoulder His mount staggered— He chopped with his axe, but the range was too tight, and though the edge bit into the side of the lizard’s head the wound it delivered was not enough to sway the creature The jaws opened wide The head snapped forward— Something snarling struck the Nah’ruk, a knotted mass of mottled, scarseamed hide and muscle, savage canines sinking deep into the lizard’s neck Disbelieving, Stormy kicked his boots free of the stirrups to roll further back— A fucking dog? Bent? That you? Oh, but it surely was Greenish blood spilled from the Nah’ruk’s mouth The eyes dulled, and a heartbeat later dog and lizard pitched down from the Ve’Gath At that moment, Stormy saw the burning sky keeps And the storm was gone, the thunder vanished, the world filling with sounds of iron, flesh and bone The song of ten thousand battles, made eerily surreal by there being not a single scream, not a single cry of agony or shriek begging mercy The Nah’ruk were falling Battle halted Slaughter commenced No song lives upon a single note But to a soldier, who had faced death for an eternity since the dawn, this grisly music was the sweetest music of all Slaughter! For my brave Ve’Gath! Slaughter! For Gesler and his K’ell! Slaughter, for the Bonehunters—my friends—SLAUGHTER! As if some fulcrum had been irrevocably destroyed, Ampelas Uprooted slowly rolled upside down The entire edifice was burning now, spilling sheets of flaming oil that splashed bright upon rubble, corpses and wounded drones directly below Gesler knew it was now dead, a lifeless hulk slowly tumbling in the sky Two sky keeps still raged in death-throes behind it, leaning like drunks, moments from colliding with one another The smoke column from a third was shredding apart to high winds, but of the keep itself there was no sign The rest were but ashes on the black wind Before them rose a mountain of gnarled rock, enclosing the wreckage that had once been Kalse Uprooted, holding it up as if it was a gem, or a giant shattered eye Something about the stone was familiar, but for the moment, he could not place it The manifestation reached stunningly high, piercing through the dust and smoke Stormy’s hunt for the last fleeing Nah’ruk had taken him and a thousand or so Ve’Gath beyond the hills to the southeast Exhausted, numbed beyond all reason, Gesler leaned back in the strange saddle Some damned dog was yapping at his mount’s ankles He saw Kalyth, Sag’Churok, Gunth Mach and the J’an Sentinel, and beyond them, approaching at a careless walk, two children Grub Sinn Gesler leaned forward and glared down at the yapping dog ‘Gods below, Roach,’ he said in a hoarse voice, ‘you returning the favour?’ He drew a shuddering breath ‘Listen, rat, cos I’m only going to say this once—I guarantee it But right now, your voice is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.’ The miserable thing snarled up at him It had never learned how to smile Slipping down from the Ve’Gath, Gesler sagged on aching legs Kalyth was kneeling, facing the direction from which Sinn and Grub were approaching ‘Get up, Destriant,’ he said, finding himself leaning against the Ve’Gath’s hip ‘Those two got heads so swelled it’s a wonder a mortal woman pushed ’em out.’ She looked over and he saw the muddy streaks of tears on her cheeks ‘She had faith In us humans.’ The woman shook her head ‘I did not.’ The two children walked up Gesler scowled ‘Stop looking so smug, Sinn You two are in a lot of trouble.’ ‘Bent and Roach found us,’ said Grub, scratching in the wild thatch of hair on his head It looked as though neither of them had bathed in months ‘We were safe, Sergeant Gesler.’ ‘Happy for you,’ he said in a growl ‘But they needed you—both of you The Bonehunters were in the Nah’ruk’s path—what you think happened to them?’ Grub’s eyes widened Sinn walked up to the Ve’Gath and set a hand on its flank ‘I want one for myself,’ she said ‘Didn’t you hear me, Sinn? Your brother—’ ‘Is probably dead We were in the warrens—the new warrens We were on the path, we could taste the blood—so fresh, so strong.’ She looked up at Gesler with bleak eyes ‘The Azath has sealed the wound.’ ‘The Azath?’ She shrugged, facing the tree of rock, its lone knot gripping Kalse Uprooted She bared her teeth in something that might have been a smile ‘Who is in there, Sinn?’ ‘He’s gone.’ ‘Dead stone can’t seal a gate—not for long—even an Azath needs a life force, a living soul—’ She shot him a quick look ‘That’s true.’ ‘So what seals it—if he’s gone—’ ‘An eye.’ ‘A what?’ Kalyth spoke in the trader tongue ‘Mortal Sword, the One Daughter is now the Matron of Mach Nest Bre’nigan stands as her J’an Sentinel Sag’Churok is the bearer of the seed She will speak to you now.’ He turned to face the K’Chain Che’Malle ‘Mortal Sword The Shield Anvil returns Shall we await him?’ Don’t bother, Matron, it’s not like he’s smart or anything ‘I can, even from this distance, breach the defences he has raised.’ Do that He deserves the headache ‘Mortal Sword Shield Anvil Destriant You three stand, you three are the mortal truths of my mother’s faith New beliefs are born What is an eternity spent in sleep? What is this morning of our first awakening? We honour the blood of our kin spilled this day We honour too the fallen Nah’ruk and pray that one day they will know the gift of forgiveness.’ You must have seen it for yourself, Matron, Gesler said, that those Nah’ruk are bred down, past any hope of independent thought Those sky keeps were old They can repair, but they cannot make anything new They are the walking dead, Matron You can see it in their eyes Kalyth said, ‘I believed I saw the same in your eyes, Mortal Sword.’ He grunted and then sighed Too tired for this I have grieving to ‘You might have been right, Destriant But we shed things like that like snake skin You wear what you need to get through, that’s all.’ ‘Then perhaps we can hope for the Nah’ruk.’ ‘Hope all you like Sinn—can they burn another gate through?’ ‘Not for a long time,’ she replied, reaching down to collect up Roach She cradled the foul thing in her arms, scratching it behind the ears The ugly rat’s pink tongue slid in and out as it panted Its eyes were demonic with witless malice Gesler shivered The Matron spoke: ‘We are without a Nest But the need must wait Wounds must heal, flesh must be harvested Mortal Sword, we now pledge ourselves to you We now serve Among your friends, there will be survivors We shall find them.’ Gesler shook his head ‘We led your army, Matron We had our battle, but it’s over now You don’t owe us anything And whatever your mother believed, she never asked us, did she? Me and Stormy, we’re not priests We’re soldiers and nothing more Those titles you gave us—well, we’re shedding that skin too.’ Stormy’s voice rumbled through his mind, ‘Same for me, Matron We can find our friends on our own—you need a city to build, or maybe some other Rooted you can find Besides, we got Grub and Sinn, and Bent here—gods, he’s almost wagging that stub of a tail and I ain’t never seen that before Must be all the gore on his face.’ Kalyth laughed, even as tears streamed down her lined cheeks ‘You two— you cannot shed your titles They are branded upon your souls—will you just leave me here?’ ‘You’re welcome to come with us,’ said Gesler ‘Where?’ ‘East, I think.’ The woman flinched ‘You’re from there, aren’t you? Kalyth?’ ‘Yes,’ she whispered ‘Elan But the Elan are no more I am the last Mortal Sword, you must not choose that direction You will die—all of you.’ She pointed at Grub and Sinn ‘Even them.’ The Matron said, ‘Then we see the path before us We shall guard you all Ve’Gath K’ell J’an Gu’Rull who still lives, still serves We shall be your guardians It is the new way our mother foresaw The path of our rebirth ‘Humans, welcome us The K’Chain Che’Malle have returned to the world.’ Sulkit heard her words and something stirred within her She had been a J’an Sentinel in the time of her master’s need, but her master was gone, and now she was a Matron in her own right The time had not yet come when she would make herself known Old seeds grew within her: the first born would be weak, but that could not be helped In time, vigour would return Her master was gone The throne was empty, barring a lone eye, embedded in the headrest She was alone within Kalse Life was bleeding into the Rooted’s stone Strange, alien life Its flesh and bone was rock Its mind and soul was the singular imposition of belief But then, what else are any of us? She would think on this matter He was gone She was alone But all was well ‘I have lost him Again We were so close, but now gone.’ With these words the trek staggered to a halt, as if in Mappo’s private loss all other desires had withered, blown away The twins had closed on the undead wolf Faint had a fear that death had somehow addicted them to its hoary promise They spoke of Toc They closed small fingers tight in the ratty fur of Baaljagg The boy slept in Gruntle’s arms—now who could have predicted that bond? No matter, there was something in that huge man that made her think he should have been a father a hundred times by now—to the world’s regret, since he was not anything of the sort No, Gruntle had broken loves behind him Hardly unique, of course, but in that man the loss belonged to everyone Ah, I think I just yearn for his shadow Me and half the lasses here Oh well Silly Faint Setoc, who had been conversing with Cartographer, now walked over ‘The storm to the south’s not getting any closer—we have that, at least.’ Faint rubbed the back of her neck and winced at the pressure ‘Could have done with the rain.’ ‘If there was rain.’ She glanced at the girl ‘Saw you meet Gruntle’s eyes a while back A look passed between you when we were talking about that storm So, out with it.’ ‘It was a battle, not a storm Sorcery, and worse But now it’s over.’ ‘Who was fighting, Setoc?’ She shook her head ‘It’s far away We don’t have to go there.’ ‘Seems like we’re not going anywhere right now.’ ‘We will For now, let’s leave him be,’ she said, eyes on Mappo, who stood a short distance away, motionless as a statue—as he had been for some time Amby had been walking alongside the horse-drawn travois carrying his brother—Jula was still close to death Precious Thimble’s healing was a paltry thing The Wastelands could not feed her magic, she said There was still the chance that Jula would die Amby knelt, shading his brother’s face with one hand He suddenly looked very young Setoc walked back to the horse Sighing, Faint looked around And saw a rider approaching ‘Company,’ she said, loud enough to catch everyone’s attention All but Mappo reacted, turning or rising and following her gaze From Setoc: ‘I know him! That’s Torrent!’ More lost souls to this pathetic party Welcome A single flickering fire marked the camp, and occasionally a figure passed in front of it The wind carried no sound from those gathered there Among the travellers, sorrow and joy, grief and the soft warmth of newborn love So few mortals, and yet all of life was there, ringing the fire Faint jade light limned the broken ground, as if darkness itself could be painted into a mockery of life The rider who sat upon a motionless, unbreathing horse, was silent, feeling like a creature too vast to approach any shore—he could look on with one dead eye or the other dead eye He could remember what it was like to be a living thing among other living things The heat, the promise, the uncertainties and all the hopes to sweeten the bitterest seas But that shore was for ever beyond him now They could feel the warmth of that fire He could not And never again The figure that rose from the dust beside him said nothing for a time, and when she spoke it was in the spirit language—her voice beyond the ears of the living ‘We all as we must, Herald.’ ‘What you have done, Olar Ethil ’ ‘It is too easy to forget.’ ‘Forget what?’ ‘The truth of the T’lan Imass Did you know, a fool once wept for them?’ ‘I was there I saw the man’s barrow—the gifts ’ ‘The most horrid of creatures—human and otherwise—are so easily, so carelessly recast Mad murderers become heroes The insane wear the crown of geniuses Fools flower in endless fields, Herald, where history once walked.’ ‘What is your point, bonecaster?’ ‘The T’lan Imass Slayers of Children from the very beginning Too easy to forget Even the Imass themselves, the First Sword himself, needed reminding You all needed reminding.’ ‘To what end?’ ‘Why you not go to them, Toc the Younger?’ ‘I cannot.’ ‘No,’ she nodded, ‘you cannot The pain is too great The loss you feel.’ ‘Yes,’ he whispered ‘Nor should they yield love to you, should they? Any of them The children ’ ‘They should not, no.’ ‘Because, Toc the Younger, you are the brother of Onos T’oolan His true brother now And for all the mercy that once dwelt in your mortal heart, only ghosts remain They must not love you They must not believe in you For you are not the man you once were.’ ‘Did you think I needed reminding, too, Olar Ethil?’ ‘I think yes.’ She was right He felt inside for the pain he’d thought—he’d believed—he had lived with for so long As if lived was even the right word When he found it, he saw at last its terrible truth A ghost A memory I but wore its guise The dead have found me I have found the dead And we are the same ‘Where will you go now, Toc the Younger?’ He gathered the reins of his horse and looked back at the distant fire It was a spark It would not last the night ‘Away.’ Snow drifted down, the sky was at peace The figure on the throne had been frozen, lifeless, for a long, long time A fine shedding of dust from the corpse marked that something had changed Ice then crackled Steam rose from flesh slowly thickening with life The hands, gripping the arms of the throne, suddenly twitched, fingers uncurling Light flickered in its pitted eyes And, looking out from mortal flesh once more, Hood, who had once been the Lord of Death, found arrayed before him fourteen Jaghut warriors They stood in the midst of frozen corpses, weapons out but lowered or resting across shoulders One spoke ‘What was that war again?’ The others laughed The first one continued, ‘Who was that enemy?’ The laughter this time was louder, longer ‘Who was our commander?’ Heads rocked back and the thirteen roared with mirth The first speaker shouted, ‘Does he live? Do we?’ Hood slowly rose from the throne, melted ice streaming down his blackened hide He stood, and eventually the laughter fell away He took one step forward, and then another The fourteen warriors did not move Hood lowered to one knee, head bowing ‘I seek penance.’ A warrior far to the right said, ‘Gathras, he seeks penance Do you hear that?’ The first speaker replied ‘I do, Sanad.’ ‘Shall we give it, Gathras?’ another asked ‘Varandas, I believe we shall.’ ‘Gathras.’ ‘Yes, Haut?’ ‘What was that war again?’ The Jaghut howled The Errant was lying on wet stone, on his back, unconscious, the socket of one eye a pool of blood Kilmandaros, breathing hard, stepped close to look down upon him ‘Will he live?’ Sechul Lath was silent for a moment, and then he sighed ‘Live is such a strange word We know nothing else, after all Not truly Not intimately.’ ‘But will he?’ Sechul turned away ‘I suppose so.’ He halted suddenly, cocked his head and then snorted ‘Just what he always wanted.’ ‘What you mean?’ ‘He’s got an eye on a Gate.’ Her laughter rumbled in the cavern, and when it faded she turned to Sechul and said, ‘I am ready to free the bitch Beloved son, is it time to end the world?’ Face hidden from her view, Sechul Lath closed his eyes Then said, ‘Why not?’ This ends the Ninth Tale of The Malazan Book of the Fallen Table of Contents Dust of Dreams Contents Acknowledgments Author’s Note Dramatis Personae The Malazans The Squads The Khundryl The Perish Grey Helms The Letherii The Barghast The Snake Imass T’lan Imass K’Chain Che’malle Others Prologue Book One The Sea Does Not Dream of You Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Book Two Eaters of Diamonds and Gems Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Book Three Only the Dust Will Dance Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Book Four The Path Forever Walked Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four .. .Dust of Dreams Also by Steven Erikson Gardens of the Moon Dead house Gates Memories of Ice House of Chains Midnight Tides The Bonehunters Reaper’s Gale Toll the Hounds STEVEN ERIKSON Dust of. .. events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously DUST OF DREAMS: BOOK NINE OF THE MALAZAN BOOK OF THE FALLEN Copyright © 2009 by Steven Erikson... registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Erikson, Steven Dust of dreams / Steven Erikson — 1st ed p cm —(The Malazan book of the fallen