About the Book In the western sky, the bright emerald banner of the Visitor descends like a portent of annihilation On the continent of Jacuruku, the Thaumaturgs have mounted another expedition to tame the wild jungle that is their neighbour Yet this is no normal wilderness Named Himatan, it is said to be both of the spirit realm and of the earth It is also said that it is ruled over by a powerful entity some call the Queen of Witches and others the ancient goddess Ardata Saeng has grown up knowing only life under the Thaumaturgs – but it is the voices of her country’s forgotten past that speak to her And when these magician rulers begin their invasion of Himatan, the voices strengthen – urging Saeng and her brother to undertake a desperate mission To the south, the desert tribes are united by the arrival of a foreign war leader, a veteran commander in battered mail His men call him the Grey Ghost and he will lead these tribes on a raid like none that has gone before – deep into the heart of Thaumaturg lands And then the mercenary Crimson Guard are issued a contract against a renegade of their ranks Skinner has returned to Jacuruku and is rumoured to want to reclaim a kingdom he once held And who are the Guard to refuse the command of a god? Contents Cover About the Book Title Page Dedication Acknowledgements Map Dramatis Personae Prologue Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Epilogue Glossary About the Author Also by Ian C Esslemont Copyright This novel is dedicated to the memory of my father, John Roy Esslemont, 1934–1989 You are greatly missed ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS It is with gratitude that I acknowledge my time at the University of Minnesota, where I was encouraged to pursue my interest in nineteenthcentury travel writing, colonial texts, and the myths of imperialism I hope to return to this rich material some day Truth is indeed stranger than fiction DRAMATIS PERSONAE Thaumaturg Villagers Saeng A descendant of local priestesses Hanu Her brother Himatan Villagers Oroth-en Village headman Ursa A female warrior The Mountain Bandits Kenjak Ashevajak The Bandit Lord Loor-San Myint Thet-mun Of the Thaumaturg Golan Commander of the Army of Righteous Chastisement U-Pre Second in Command Thorn Principal Scribe of the army Waris An officer of the army Pon-lor A newly trained Thaumaturg Tun An overseer of the army (similar to a sergeant) Surin The Prime Master of the ruling Circle of Masters Servants of Ardata Rutana A witch Nagal A warrior Citravaghra The ‘man-leopard’ Varakapi The ‘man-ape’ Of the Tribes of the Adwami Jatal A prince of the Hafinaj Andanii Princess of the Vehajarwi Ganell A chief of the Awamir Sher’ Tal Horsemaster of the Saar Pinal Horsemaster of the Hafinaj The Warleader A mercenary commander Scarza His lieutenant Of the Crimson Guard Avowed K’azz D’Avore Commander Shimmer A captain Gwynn A mage, once of Skinner’s company Lor-sinn A mage Turgal Cole Amatt Of the Disavowed Skinner Captain Jacinth Lieutenant Mara A mage Petal A mage Red A mage Shijel Weaponmaster Black the Lesser Hist Leuthan Of the Malazan Mercenaries Yusen Captain Burastan Lieutenant Murk A mage Sour A mage Ostler A soldier Tanner A soldier Dee A soldier Sweetly A scout Others Ardata The Queen of Dreams Ina Also known as the Queen of Witches Also known as the Enchantress, T’riss A Seguleh, of the top thousand fighters, the Jistarii The Witch Queen Also known as the Queen of Monsters, Ardata Old Man Moon An elder Ripan One of his offspring Sister Spite Daughter of Draconus Osserc A Tiste Liosan, worshipped by some as a sky god L’oric Son of Osserc Gothos A Jaghut He could never learn *** The clouds had cleared from the sky The layer of pulverized stone, soot, and ash lay as a smooth blanket With evening, rainclouds swept in from the east and a light drizzle fell It dimpled the ash and hissed where it met heated rock beneath A swirl of wind emerged from nowhere with a gust of displaced air that blew the ash in all directions A man now stood amid the dispersing dust He brushed it from his green cloak as he set off walking with a brisk purposeful stride The ground he trod lay as a broad shallow bowl, or crater It crackled beneath his boots, flash-heated to a thin glass-like layer of sintered earth The man scanned the flattened surroundings: a plain of emptiness apart from the gusting curtains of ash and pulverized stone He brushed the powder from his arms and shoulders and continued on A distance off, a humped shape revealed another occupant of this otherworld of drifting flakes of falling soot The man hurried forward He found a woman, mostly naked, kneeling over a prostrate body in blackened and seared trousers and shirt The woman straightened and pushed back her unkempt mane of tousled hair She wore a wrap at her breasts and loins To one side lay a small chest, like a jewellery case Ignoring the woman, the man knelt at the body’s side, pressed a hand to its neck to check for a pulse ‘Greetings, L’oric, son of Osserc,’ the woman said, backing away ‘And you, Spite, daughter of Draconus,’ the man answered, and he let out a breath of relief as he kept his hand on the fallen one’s neck ‘He lives.’ ‘Yes,’ Spite answered as she continued to back away ‘Astonishingly He lives still Despite all this He lives still.’ With some effort, L’oric managed to turn the prostrate figure over, revealing the pale hair and skin of a Tiste Liosan ‘You are surprised?’ he asked, eyeing the woman ‘By his survival? Or by his actions?’ ‘The latter more,’ L’oric mused ‘As I am.’ ‘Yes.’ She frowned down at the unconscious man ‘Your father … interceded … took it upon himself.’ ‘Yes.’ She raised her puzzled gaze to L’oric ‘Why?’ ‘I not know at this time Perhaps he will eventually explain.’ He shook his head ‘But more likely not.’ He pointed aside ‘And that?’ Spite grunted a harsh exhalation, muttering beneath She picked up the small chest and opened the top, tipping it Black powder spilled forth to disperse in the weak wind ‘A failed errand Wishful thinking.’ She cast the box into the distance ‘Will you aid me in another errand?’ L’oric asked, eyeing the dust as it swirled into nothingness ‘Which is?’ The tall wiry mage indicated his unconscious father ‘To put him where he belongs.’ The daughter of Draconus arched one shapely brow ‘Indeed … that I should like very much.’ ‘Very well.’ The mage knelt, and, grunting his effort, arose with his father in his arms Spite backed away, her face betraying surprise and amazement The mage commanded through clenched teeth: ‘Open us a way to the border regions of Kurald Thyrllan.’ Spite’s brows rose even higher ‘But it is closed.’ She pointed to Osserc ‘By his very hand.’ ‘We shall see then,’ L’oric grunted ‘As close as possible – if you would.’ Spite gave a quick nod and turned, extending her arms The air tore before her Blinding golden light burst forth through a jagged rent The two figures, mere dark silhouettes in the roaring conflagration of brilliance, stepped through and disappeared The rent snapped shut L’oric and Spite faced a blasted landscape of twisting narrow canyons all shimmering in heat waves Overhead, energies streamed as rippling auroras of power in banners, curtains and multicoloured scarves They both hunched beneath the punishing heat and glare L’oric adjusted his burden, hugging his father tighter to his chest ‘Now what?’ Spite growled, shielding her eyes with an arm L’oric cast about, searching He lifted his chin to the left ‘There! You see the tall landmark?’ Spite squinted Some sort of spire or tower rose atop a butte ‘Yes.’ ‘Get us over there.’ She swept her arms again and they disappeared L’oric stumbled as he walked to emerge upon a heap of loose baked shards of talus that shifted beneath his feet He ended up at the bottom of the slope deep within a narrow canyon of crumbling layers of shale, sandstone and silts Spite awaited him She pointed up L’oric nodded and hefted his burden once again, wincing ‘Get us up there,’ he shouted over the roar of energies streaming overhead Spite grumbled something under her breath and wiped the sweat now dripping down her face and naked limbs She cast about, scanning the surroundings She gestured, pushing and kneading with her hands The wall of a nearby canyon shuddered Rocks clattered Then, with a crack of stone, the entire wall came crashing down in an avalanche of broken rock, raising a cloud of dust that Spite waved from her face L’oric turned his head away, hunching a shoulder The dust dispersed quickly, driven off by the blasting power coursing across the landscape A slope of shattered dry rock was revealed Spite started up; she used all fours, pulling and dragging herself along L’oric followed ‘Not exactly how I would have handled that,’ he muttered to himself At the top, he winced again, turning his face away from the blasting wild energies punishing the landscape Spite had run ahead to the shadow side of a tower that somehow remained standing against the streaming power L’oric followed He lurched against the brick wall only to flinch away: the stones nearly glowed with heat ‘Now what?’ Spite shouted into his ear He raised his chin to the tower ‘Go on up.’ She grumbled once more: something about ‘this better be worth it’, and pushed on, dodging ahead L’oric followed Within, stairs encircled the outer walls, leading up The interior was empty but for the rippling heat of a kiln L’oric staggered up the stairs He was nearing the end of his strength The stairs ended at an open trapdoor into a chamber at the tower’s top It was enclosed but for a single narrow slit window facing the source of the glaring energies Spite stood aside, her arms crossed ‘And now?’ she demanded He set his father down and straightened his sweat-soaked shirt ‘Now we shall see.’ He approached the slit window A beam of light came in through the slit and crossed the chamber, cutting it in half L’oric knew that it seemed that this was a world facing a cruel sun that at a fraction of the distance of the one most humans knew But in truth, it was not like that at all The source of the unleashed brilliance was in fact much smaller, and much closer, than imagined He extended a hand into the wall of light then yanked it back as the beam seared his flesh To Spite’s questioning look he explained: ‘Now we wait.’ ‘Who built this?’ ‘Jaghut, I believe.’ ‘To study Thyrllan?’ ‘I believe it may extend back much further than that.’ Spite grunted something non-committal L’oric eyed her; her limbs seemed to glow as well, gleaming with sweat He cleared his throat and quickly looked away Spite smiled almost cruelly ‘What are we waiting for?’ ‘We’ll know it when we see it,’ he replied, still looking away The beam of light rippled and they both flinched backwards Something appeared to be blocking the slit from the outside, hovering there ‘Who comes?’ a voice whispered It somehow penetrated the crackling and snarling energies though it came gently, soft and melodious ‘Liosan!’ L’oric called ‘Entreat us no more,’ the thing answered ‘The way is closed.’ ‘He who closed it is come,’ L’oric shouted ‘For him we have been waiting all this time Where is he? We sense him not.’ ‘He is injured.’ ‘We will discern the truth of this.’ The light streaming across the room rippled again, writhing as if something were moving within it Then a pillar of flame burst to life within the chamber L’oric and Spite flinched all the way back to press themselves against the walls The sizzling presence scoured the brick floor leaving a black scar behind as it wavered about It passed over Osserc’s unconscious body and halted, flickering L’oric tensed, his Warren raised ‘It is him!’ came the melodious call, somehow conveying disbelief and joy ‘Returned as he promised us Open the way!’ The grating of stone pulled L’oric’s attention from his father The narrow slit window in the far wall appeared to be changing Dust and ground stone fell in a fine powder that flared incandescent as it drifted into the beam of blazing light That beam cutting through the slit took on a deeper hue of gold until L’oric could no longer see through it It might have been that light, but when he studied the slit window, his hand before his eyes, it appeared to be widening As if it were opening He grabbed Spite’s arm and brought his head next to hers ‘We must go!’ he shouted through the burgeoning roar ‘Why?’ she yelled, and brushed his hand away He pointed ‘The window! I believe it is the gate! A gate opening directly into Kurald Thyrllan.’ ‘So what?’ She waved at him ‘Aren’t you resistant, or whatever, to its manifestation?’ ‘No more than Mother Dark could encompass Darkness itself!’ he shouted back ‘Come!’ ‘Your father?’ ‘They will take him! Come!’ He attempted again to grab her arm but she easily brushed his hand away He started backing away towards the stairs regardless The slit was definitely wider now, and lengthening, extending down to the floor The solid bar of light was filling the chamber and it was this that pushed Spite back as it ate up the floor space finger by finger like shimmering poured gold She joined L’oric on the stairs, which they descended backwards So bright was the presence above, L’oric had to turn his face away Spots danced before his punished eyes On the ground floor Spite bumped into him, cursing and wiping at her eyes ‘Damn it to Night!’ she snarled ‘I can’t see a damned thing.’ ‘Thryllan has taken him,’ L’oric said, studying the stairs ‘He will hardly be missed,’ Spite growled ‘You are harsh.’ ‘It is the truth.’ He took a fold of cloth and dabbed his eyes ‘We will not know the truth of this until sufficient time has passed.’ ‘Sufficient time for the lies to take hold.’ ‘I think you hold too hard to bitterness.’ Spite studied him for a time ‘Our alliance is nearly at an end, L’oric Do not tempt me to any rash act following it.’ He sketched a courtier’s bow ‘As m’lady would have it Shall we go?’ ‘Gladly I loathe this place.’ ‘That is not so strange I rather like it.’ *** On the western slope of the Gangrek Mounts a woman descended a slim trail It was no more than a rocky animal track occasionally used by locals to climb the mount for game or to collect firewood or plants Her shirt was tattered, stained and worn to mere threads, while her skirt merely to her knees Her hair was an unkempt cloud about her heart-shaped features Yet she walked the trail with the assurance and ease of an experienced jungle tracker Halfway down she stopped to peer back up the path After a time another figure came descending behind He came slowly as he used a sturdy stick as a crutch One arm tied to his side, he dragged one foot, and a cloth was wrapped around his head covering one eye His hair long and loose but did not completely hide the odd shape of the left side of his head He wore the torn and hard-travelled robes of a Thaumaturg The young woman took his arm to help him down the more difficult sections of the steep track He offered her a strange one-sided smile that made her blush and turn her face away As the trail levelled she kept his arm to walk along beside him Together, they retraced their steps back into Thaumaturg territory They were returning because someone had to rebuild, and if they did not others would She had a reborn faith to guide and shape anew and he would all he could to clear its way into the world *** Far off on the eastern coast of Jacuruku, a gentle surf kissed a stretch of desert strand A dense jungle verge crowded the shore The empty sands descended steeply to the sapphire waves Above, clear blue sky echoed the pale blue of the shallow waters White seabirds hovered and gave their harsh calls in the weak wind Crabs searched among the foam and cast-up seaweed A man came staggering out of the jungle to stand weaving drunkenly and blinking in the bright sunlight A shirt from him in tatters, as did his trousers Sores, bites and scratches dotted his limbs His beard and hair were ragged and filthy Another emerged, no different from the first He, too, stopped as if dumbfounded, or completely uncertain of what to next A giant emerged next It carried a man in its stone arms that it gently set down to stand in the sands This man tapped a blackwood rod chased in silver to his shoulder while he stood staring out to sea More men, a bare few handfuls, came staggering out to fall or sit in the sands and stare wordlessly at the bright leagues of empty sea A scrawny old man wearing only a loincloth came limping from the jungle He carried a bag over one shoulder and he walked down to the man holding the blackwood rod After studying the sea for a time, Principal Scribe Thorn turned to his commander, Master Golan, and said, ‘Congratulations, Golan the Great.’ Master Golan blinked as if coming out of a dream and peered down at his scribe ‘I’m sorry,’ he croaked ‘Congratulations?’ ‘The Army of Righteous Chastisement has emerged triumphant, m’lord It has crushed the jungle into abasement Dealt it a final decisive blow! Your march has proved victorious.’ ‘You will write that down, won’t you?’ ‘Of course!’ The old man, all skin and bones, his hair standing as a thinning white rim about his skull, bent his head down to search within the loose bag He searched, then searched again, becoming more and more agitated Finally, he pulled the bag from his side and overturned it, waving and flapping it A single sheet flew free to flutter out over the waves and disappear into the distance Golan watched it fly off ‘Nothing important, I trust,’ he offered, rather drily He peered curiously at the empty bag ‘Misplaced your records? What has become of them?’ ‘Food has been rather scarce of late,’ Principal Scribe Thorn confessed, looking guilty Golan studied the man, frowning ‘My glorious campaign has disappeared down your gullet, been digested, and shat out your other end?’ ‘I have merely done the job of the historians for them, m’lord.’ Golan tilted his head, thinking about it, then nodded, conceding the point ‘True enough, Principal Scribe True enough You have merely saved everyone a great deal of time.’ ‘I try to serve in my own small way.’ He suddenly raised a finger as if in inspiration He yanked the nub of a quill from behind one blackened ear, licked the end, and poised it over the leather bag ‘Your orders?’ Golan looked to the surf, the blue sea rolling onward to the horizon He rubbed his fingers across his brow – they came away slick with grime and sweat He sighed heavily ‘Second,’ he called in a raised voice Shortly after this, Second in Command Waris emerged from the jungle verge He wore a long stained shirt that was at one time the underpadding of leather armour A weapon belt over one shoulder and he bore a scrap of cloth tied about his head He came to Golan and saluted ‘Second Waris,’ Golan began Then he paused He eyed the cloth on the man’s head ‘Not regulation, I should think, Second.’ ‘Keeps the sun off, sir,’ the man replied, his voice flat Still a man of few words Somehow reassuring, that Golan cleared his throat ‘We will camp here Perhaps there are foodstuffs that the troops may collect On the morrow we head north around the coast Eventually we will reach our borders.’ Waris bowed and headed off to convey the orders Golan started pacing the shore, slowly, meditatively He held the blackwood Rod of Execution behind his back in both hands, tapping it with his thumbs Principal Scribe Thorn followed behind He licked the quill and began scratching on the bag He mouthed as he walked: ‘Having utterly crushed the jungle leagues of Jacuruku, Golan the Great vanquishes the Eastern Ocean then casts his victor’s eyes onward to new conquests! He orders the beginning of a grand new campaign against the Northern Wastes The glorious Army of Righteous Chastisement springs to its feet to follow its inspiring leader onward to new triumphs no doubt as rewarding and glorious as those they have known …’ Master Golan suddenly halted He raised his face to the clear sky while exhaling mightily through clenched teeth He raised the Rod of Execution, then regarded the surf restlessly surging up the steep strand For a moment it appeared as if he were considering throwing the baton into the sea He lowered it, however, and turned to study the bedraggled survivors of his army as they slumped down together to sit listless and exhausted, staring out at the vast unbroken horizon before them His gaze fell to Principal Scribe Thorn who watched him expectantly, quill poised He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, blinking, then quickly turned his face out to sea After a time he murmured, as if more to himself: ‘You are right, Thorn Posterity will wonder at your perspicacity You have assured my due place in history.’ The scribe swallowed, his bulging Adam’s apple bobbing ‘It is my duty, Master Golan.’ GLOSSARY Elder Races Tiste Andii: Children of Darkness Tiste Edur: Children of Shadow Tiste Liosan: Children of Light Imass: an ancient race of which only the undead army, the T’lan Imass, remain Trell: an ancient race of nomadic pastoralists Jaghut: an ancient race of recluses Thelomen / Toblakai: an ancient race, pre-agriculturalists The Warrens Kurald Galain: The Elder Warren of Darkness, Elder Night Kurald Emurlahn: The Elder Warren of Shadow, Elder Shadow Kurald Thyrllan: The Elder Warren of Light: Elder Light, also known as Liosan Omtose Phellack: The Elder Jaghut Warren of Ice Tellann: The Elder Imass Warren of Fire Starvald Demelain: The Eleint Warren Thyr: The Path of Light Denul: The Path of Healing Hood’s Path: The Path of Death Serc: The Path of the Sky Meanas: The Path of Shadow and Illusion D’riss: The Path of the Earth Ruse: The Path of the Sea Rashan: The Path of Darkness Mockra: The Path of the Mind Telas: The Path of Fire Terms and Places The Adwami: the nomadic tribes of southern Jacuruku Agon: an order of priests for whom good and evil are illusions Ammanas: also known as Shadowthrone, ruler of the Shadow Realm Anditi Pura: capital city of the Thaumaturgs Chanar Keep: a ruined keep in the Gangrek Mounts on the border of Himatan The Dolmens of Tien: site of an ancient ‘Chaining’ of the Crippled God High King / God-King: ancient title of legendary ruler of most of Jacuruku, Kallor Himatan: an enchanted jungle said to be ruled by Ardata Isana Pura: southern capital of the Thaumaturgs Isturé: a term for the Avowed that extends to the Disavowed as well Jakal Viharn: rumoured great city in the jungle, ‘city of gold’, paved in jewels Khun-Sen: an old general, once ruler of Chanar Keep The Meckros: name for floating cities and the people who occupy them The Nak-ta: the restless dead of Jacuruku Phalam: a unit within the Thaumaturg army, roughly equivalent to a squad The Shaduwam: shaman-like priests of southern Jacuruku Thaumaturgs / Theurgists: ruling mages of a nation in Jacuruku The Yakshaka: their statue-like stone soldiers, manufactured by alchemy and magery About the Author IAN CAMERON ESSLEMONT has worked as an archaeologist and has taught and travelled in South East Asia and the Far East He now lives in Fairbanks, Alaska with his wife and children His previous novels, Night of Knives, Return of the Crimson Guard, Stonewielder and Orb Sceptre Throne are all set in the epic fantasy world he co-created with Steven Erikson Also by Ian C Esslemont NIGHT OF KNIVES RETURN OF THE CRIMSON GUARD STONEWIELDER ORB SCEPTRE THRONE For more information on Ian C Esslemont and his books, see his website at www.malazanempire.com TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS 61–63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA A Random House Group Company www.transworldbooks.co.uk BLOOD AND BONE A BANTAM BOOK: 9780593064467 Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781409043379 Published in Great Britain in 2012 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers Copyright © Ian Cameron Esslemont 2012 Ian Cameron Esslemont has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly Addresses for Random House Group Ltd companies outside the UK can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk The Random House Group Ltd Reg No 954009 Table of Contents Cover About the Book Title Page Dedication Acknowledgements Map Dramatis Personae Prologue Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Epilogue Glossary About the Author Also by Ian C Esslemont Copyright ... Servants of Ardata Rutana A witch Nagal A warrior Citravaghra The ‘man-leopard’ Varakapi The ‘man-ape’ Of the Tribes of the Adwami Jatal A prince of the Hafinaj Andanii Princess of the Vehajarwi... Ganell A chief of the Awamir Sher’ Tal Horsemaster of the Saar Pinal Horsemaster of the Hafinaj The Warleader A mercenary commander Scarza His lieutenant Of the Crimson Guard Avowed K’azz D’Avore... Ursa A female warrior The Mountain Bandits Kenjak Ashevajak The Bandit Lord Loor-San Myint Thet-mun Of the Thaumaturg Golan Commander of the Army of Righteous Chastisement U-Pre Second in Command