Malazan 6 the bonehunters

The Bonehunters Malazan Book of the Fallen Book VI StEVEN ERIKSON Tom Doherty, Associates, LLC Pub Date: September 2007 ISBN-13: 9780765316523 Content The Age Descending Prologue Book One Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Book Two Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Book Three Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Book Four Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Epilogue For all that is made real In this age descending Where heroes leave naught But the iron ring of their names From bardic throats I stand in this silent heart Yearning the fading beat Of lives fallen to dust And the sifting whisper Proclaims glory’s passing As the songs fail In dwindling echoes For all that is made real The chambers and halls Yawn empty to my cries – For someone must Give answer Give answer To all of this Someone The Age Descending Torbora Fethena Prologue 1164 Burn’s Sleep Istral’fennidahn, the season of D’rek, Worm of Autumn Twenty-four days since the Execution of Sha’ik in Raraku The webs between the towers were visible in glistening sheets far overhead, and the faint wind coming in from the sea shivered the vast threads so that a mist of rain descended on Kartool City, as it did every morning in the Clear Season Most things a person could get used to, eventually, and since the yellow-banded paralt spiders had been the first to occupy the once infamous towers following the Malazan conquest of the island, and that was decades past now, there had been plenty of time to become inured to such details Even the sight of gulls and pigeons suspended motionless between the score of towers every morning, before the fist-sized spiders emerged from their upper-floor dens to retrieve their prey, yielded little more than faint revulsion among the citizens of Kartool City Sergeant Hellian of the Septarch District city guard, alas, was an exception to this There were gods, she suspected, convulsed in perpetual hilarity at her wretched fate, for which they were no doubt responsible Born in the city, cursed with a fear of all manner of spiders, she had lived the entirety of her nineteen years in unrelieved terror Why not just leave? A question asked by comrades and acquaintances more times than she cared to count But it wasn’t that simple It was impossible, in fact The murky waters of the harbour were fouled with moult-skins and web-fragments and sodden, feather-tufted carcasses bobbing here and there Inland, things got even worse The young paralt, upon escaping their elders in the city, struggled to maturity among the limestone cliffs ringing Kartool And though young, they were no less aggressive or virulent While traders and farmers told her that one could walk the trails and roads all day without encountering a single one, Hellian didn’t care She knew the gods were waiting Just like the spiders When sober, the sergeant noticed things, in a proper and diligent manner suited to a city guard And while she was not consistently drunk, cold sobriety was an invitation to hysteria, so Hellian endeavoured to proceed steadily on the wobbly rope of not-quite-drunk Accordingly, she had not known of the odd ship now moored in the Free Docks, that had arrived before sunrise, its pennons indicating that it had come from Malaz Island Ships hailing from Malaz Island were not of themselves unusual or noteworthy; however, autumn had arrived, and the prevailing winds of the Clear Season made virtually all lanes to the south impossible to navigate for at least the next two months Were things less bleary, she might also have noticed – had she taken the time to head down to the docks, which perhaps could have been managed at sword-point – that the ship was not the usual barque or trader, nor a military dromon, but a sleek, gracile thing, styled in a manner not employed in the past fifty years by any shipbuilders of the empire Arcane carvings adorned the blade-like prow, minuscule shapes detailing serpents and worms, the panels sweeping back along the gunnels almost halfway down the length of the ship The stern was squared and strangely high, with a side-mounted steering oar The crew numbered about a dozen, quiet for sailors, and disinclined to leave the ship as it lolled alongside the dock A lone figure had disembarked as soon as the gangplank had settled, shortly before dawn For Hellian, these details came later The runner that found her was a local brat who, when he wasn’t breaking laws, loitered around the docks in the hopes of being hired as a guide for visitors The fragment of parchment he handed her was, she could feel, of some quality On it was written a terse message, the contents of which made her scowl ‘All right, lad, describe the man gave this to you.’ ‘I can’t.’ Hellian glanced back at the four guards standing behind her on the street corner One of them stepped behind the boy and picked him up, one-handed, gripping the back of the ratty tunic A quick shake ‘Loosed your memory some?’ Hellian asked ‘I hope so, because I ain’t paying coin.’ ‘I can’t remember! I looked right into his face, Sergeant! Only I can’t remember what it looked like!’ She studied the boy for a moment, then grunted and turned away The guard set the lad down but did not release his grip ‘Let him go, Urb.’ The lad scampered away With a vague gesture for her guards to follow, she set off The Septarch District was the city’s most peaceful area, not through any particular diligence on Hellian’s part, however There were few commercial buildings, and those residences that existed served to house acolytes and support staff of the dozen temples commanding the district’s main avenue Thieves who wanted to stay alive did not steal from temples She led her squad onto the avenue, noting once again how decrepit many of the temples had become The paralt spiders liked the ornate architecture and the domes and lesser towers, and it seemed the priests were losing the battle Chitinous rubbish crackled and crunched underfoot as they walked Years ago, the first night of Istral’fennidahn, just past, would have been marked with an island-wide fete, filled with sacrifices and propitiations to Kartool’s patron goddess, D’rek, the Worm of Autumn, and the archpriest of the Grand Temple, the Demidrek, would lead a procession through the city on a carpet of fecund rubbish, his bared feet sweeping through maggot- and worm-ridden refuse Children would chase lame dogs down the alleys, and those they cornered they would stone to death whilst shrieking their goddess’s name Convicted criminals sentenced to execution would have their skins publicly flailed, their long-bones broken, then the hapless victims would be flung into pits aswarm with carrion beetles and red fireworms, that would devour them over the course of four or five days All of this was before the Malazan conquest, of course The Emperor’s principal target had been the cult of D’rek He’d well understood that the heart of Kartool’s power was the Grand Temple, and the island’s master sorcerors were the priests and priestesses of D’rek, ruled over by the Demidrek Further, it was no accident that the night of slaughter that preceded the naval battle and the subsequent invasion, a night led by the infamous Dancer and Surly, Mistress of the Claw, had so thoroughly obliterated the cult’s sorcerors, including the Demidrek For the archpriest of the Grand Temple had only recently gained his eminence via an internal coup, and the ousted rival had been none other than Tayschrenn, the Emperor’s new – at the time – High Mage Hellian had but heard tales of the celebrations, since they had been outlawed as soon as the Malazan occupiers settled the imperial mantle upon the island, but she had been told often enough about those glorious days of long ago, when Kartool Island had been at the pinnacle of civilization The present sordid condition was the fault of the Malazans, everyone agreed Autumn had in truth arrived upon the island and its morose inhabitants More than the cult of D’rek had been crushed, after all Slavery was abolished, the execution pits had been scoured clean and permanently sealed There was even a building hosting a score of misguided altruists who adopted lame dogs They passed the modest temple of the Queen of Dreams and, squatting on the opposite side, the muchhated Temple of Shadows There had once been but seven religions permitted upon Kartool, six subservient to D’rek – hence the district’s name Soliel, Poliel, Beru, Burn, Hood and Fener Since the conquest, more had arrived – the two aforementioned, along with Dessembrae, Togg and Oponn And the Grand Temple of D’rek, still the largest of all the structures in the city, was in a pathetic state of disrepair The figure standing before the broad-stepped entrance wore the garb of a Malazan sailor, faded waterproofed leathers, a worn shirt of thin, ragged linen His dark hair was in a queue, hanging down between his shoulders and otherwise unadorned As he turned at their approach, the sergeant saw a middle-aged face with even, benign features, although there was something odd about the man’s eyes, something vaguely fevered Hellian drew a deep breath to help clear her sodden thoughts, then raised the parchment between them ‘This is yours, I presume?’ The man nodded ‘You are the guard commander in this district?’ She smiled ‘Sergeant Hellian The captain died last year of a septic foot We’re still waiting for a replacement.’ Brows rose with irony ‘Not a promotion, Sergeant? One presumes, therefore, that sobriety would be a decisive virtue for a captain.’ ‘Your note said there’s trouble at the Grand Temple,’ Hellian said, ignoring the man’s rudeness and turning to study the massive edifice The double doors, she noted with a frown, were closed On this day of all days, this was unprecedented ‘I think so, Sergeant,’ the man said ‘Had you come to pay your respects to D’rek?’ Hellian asked him, as faint unease struggled through the alcoholic haze ‘Are the doors locked? What’s your name and where are you from?’ ‘I am named Banaschar, from Malaz Island We arrived this morning.’ A grunt from one of the guards behind her, and Hellian thought about it Then she shot Banaschar a more careful look ‘By ship? At this time of year?’ ‘We made what haste we could Sergeant, I believe we need to break into the Grand Temple.’ ‘Why not just knock?’ ‘I have tried,’ Banaschar replied ‘No-one comes.’ Hellian hesitated Break into the Grand Temple? The Fist will have my tits on a fry pan for this ‘There are dead spiders on the steps,’ Urb said suddenly They turned ‘Hood’s blessing,’ Hellian muttered, ‘lots of them.’ Curious now, she walked closer Banaschar followed, and after a moment the squad fell in ‘They look ’ She shook her head ‘Decayed,’ Banaschar said ‘Rotting Sergeant, the doors, please.’ Still she hesitated A thought occurred to her and she glared at the man ‘You said you made all haste to get here Why? Are you an acolyte of D’rek? – You don’t look it What brought you here, Banaschar?’ ‘A presentiment, Sergeant I was many years past a priest of D’rek, in the Jakatakan temple on Malaz Island.’ ‘A presentiment brought you all the way to Kartool? Do you take me for a fool?’ Anger flashed in the man’s eyes ‘Clearly you’re too drunk to smell what I can smell.’ He eyed the guards ‘Do you share your sergeant’s failings, or am I alone in this matter?’ Urb was frowning, then he said, ‘Sergeant, we should kick in these doors, I think.’ ‘So it then, damn you!’ She watched as her guards battered away at the door The noise attracted a crowd, and Hellian saw, threading to the forefront, a tall, robed woman who was clearly a priestess from one of the other temples Oh, now what? But the woman’s eyes were fixed on Banaschar, who had in turn noted her approach and stared steadily back, his expression setting hard ‘What are you doing here?’ the woman demanded ‘Have you sensed nothing, High Priestess? Complacency is a disease fast spreading, it seems.’ The woman’s gaze shifted to the guards kicking at the doors ‘What has happened?’ The door on the right splintered, then was knocked back by a final kick Hellian gestured for Urb to enter then followed, Banaschar behind her The stench was overwhelming, and in the gloom was visible great splashes of blood on the walls, fragments of meat scattered on the polished tiles, and pools of bile, blood and faeces, as well as scraps of clothing and clumps of hair Urb had taken no more than two steps and now stood, staring down at what he was standing in Hellian edged past him, her hand of its own accord reaching for the flask tucked in her belt Banaschar’s hand stayed her ‘Not in here,’ he said She roughly shook him off ‘Go to Hood,’ she growled, pulling the flask loose and tugging free the stopper She drank three quick mouthfuls ‘Corporal, go find Commander Charl We’ll need a detachment to secure the area Have word sent to the Fist, I want some mages down here.’ ‘Sergeant,’ said Banaschar, ‘this is a matter for priests.’ ‘Don’t be an idiot.’ She waved at her remaining guards ‘Conduct a search See if there’s any survivors—’ ‘There are none,’ Banaschar pronounced ‘The High Priestess of the Queen of Dreams has already left, Sergeant Accordingly, all of the temples will be informed Investigations will begin.’ ‘What sort of investigations?’ Hellian demanded He grimaced ‘Priestly sorts.’ ‘And what of you?’ ‘I have seen enough,’ he said ‘Monok Ochem has failed,’ the undead warrior intoned ‘Move from the portal, Trull Sengar I will now meet the Lifestealer.’ Trull pulled his friend to one side, then knelt and settled a hand on Ahlrada Ahn’s spattered forehead To his surprise, the eyes flickered open ‘Ahlrada ’ The dying warrior sought to speak, mouth opening then filling with bubbles of blood A savage cough sprayed it into Trull’s face, then a single word slurred free, a moment before Ahlrada Ahn died A single word ‘Home.’ **** Ibra Gholan strode out to meet the one he called Lifestealer Four paces from the Jhag, who had finally managed to tear free the Aptorian’s death-grip, the T’lan Imass charged Stone and iron, sparks at the heart of the roaring winds, and on those winds spun fragments of flesh, bone splinters, clumps of sodden hair and pieces of armour Collecting a spear from the scatter of weapons on the floor, Trull limped to place himself in the entranceway Ibra Gholan’s attack had driven the Jhag back a step, then another— A harsh cracking sound and the T’lan Imass reeled, its flint sword shattered Lifestealer’s weapon whirled down, tore through the undead warrior’s left shoulder – another chop, ribs bursting, pieces caught on the wind – Ibra Gholan staggered back— And the sword connected with the side of the warrior’s head The skull exploded into a mass of shards— Another swing ripped through the body, just above the hip, straight across, through the spine, out the other side, severing the T’lan Imass in half Four more blows before what was left of the undead warrior could even reach the floor Bone fragments skirling in every direction Lifestealer tilted his head back and roared, the sound slamming Trull to the ground, driving all breath from his lungs – he stared, helpless, as the monstrosity took a step closer, then another **** A flash, solid ripping of the air, and a figure stumbled as if from nowhere into the Jhag’s path A figure who hissed, ‘Damn you, Shadowthrone!’ Trull saw it look up, take in the approaching apparition, manage a single step back, then, as the Jhag raised his sword, sorcery burst from the figure – blinding – and when it dispelled, the wind was racing with a banshee shriek back down the ragged corridor – and Lifestealer was nowhere to be seen **** Varat Taun watched Icarium annihilate the T’lan Imass, and saw once more the lone Tiste Edur, readying a spear moments before that triumphant roar battered the warrior from his feet The captain saw a gate open before Icarium, saw the unleashing of magic, and then Varat Taun ducked, as if to squeeze beneath more bodies, as the concussion that erupted when the sorcery struck the Jhag shook the very stone – the floor, the walls – and in an instant, a momentary flash, he saw Icarium wheeling through the air, towards him, then over, then past – and the furious wind plunged into the Jhag’s wake Only to return with renewed force, and Varat felt the sodden bodies around him jostle and press down, as Icarium strode back over the dead, tilted forward, raising his sword once more The Ceda, dark-skinned, lithe, watched the Jhag’s approach, and then released another thunderous gout of magic— —and Icarium flew back— **** The storm winds seemed to twist as if in berserker rage, howling, tearing at the stone walls, ripping huge chunks away The bodies of the fallen were plucked into the air, the flesh scouring away from the bones, the bones thinning then splitting apart – weapons sailed past, withering into nothing And Trull Sengar, on his knees, watched as the stranger hammered Lifestealer Again and again, each trembling detonation punching the Jhag back through the air, spinning, flailing, striking some distant obstruction with deep, rattling impacts And then, each time, the terrible slayer regained his feet, and marched forward once more Only to be struck again In the interval following the last one, the stranger turned and saw Trull Sengar, and, in Malazan, he yelled, ‘Who in Hood’s name is that man?’ Trull blinked, shook his head Wrong question Who in Hood’s name are you? Roaring, Lifestealer clambered closer, and this time, he withstood the sorcerous blast, was pushed back but a few steps, and as the wild blaze faded, he shook his head, and lifted his sword And came forward again Another eruption, but the Jhag leaned against it— And Trull saw the mage jolt as if he had been punched Skin split on the back of the man’s hands, blood spurting Lifestealer stepped back, then surged forward yet again And the mage seemed to half-vanish in a mist of blood, flung back, stumbling, then, with a snarl, finding his balance once more— In time for the Jhag’s next assault And Trull found the mage skidding to a halt directly in front of him No skin was visible that was not sheathed in blood Ruptures marred every limb, the face, the neck; the eyes were deep red, streaming crimson tears One trembling hand lifted, and through torn lips, the mage seemed to smile as he said, ‘That’s it for me All yours, Edur, and tell Shadowthrone and Cotillion, I’ll be waiting for them on the other side of Hood’s Gate.’ Trull looked up, then straightened, readying his spear Lifestealer’s eyes blazed, and in that incandescence, Trull imagined he saw recognition Yes, me again All at once the roaring wind stuttered, seemed to rip into itself, sending fragments of detritus flying against the walls – and there was heat, warm, sultry heat, flowing from behind the Jhag – who raised his sword and tottered closer— **** Clawing part-way free of the bodies, Varat Taun felt the shattering of the storm His breath caught, as a golden glow seemed to rise, suffusing the air – and in that glow, warmth, life Furtive movement to his left and he twisted his head round – a figure, furred, as if wearing a skin-tight brown pelt – no, naked, a woman – no, a female – not human at all Yet— In a half-crouch, moving lithe, sinuous, filled with trepidation, approaching Icarium from behind, as the Jhag began walking towards the lone Tiste Edur Then, a swift dart forward – Icarium heard and began his spin round – but she had reached out, a long-fingered hand – no weapon, reaching out, and Varat Taun saw the finger tips brush Icarium, just above the Jhag’s right hip – the slightest of touches — And the Slayer crumpled to the ground Behind Varat, a wordless cry, and the Letherii flinched as someone scrambled past him – Taralack Veed— The unhuman female had crouched beside the fallen form of Icarium Softly stroking the slayer’s forehead, as the amber glow began to fade, and with that fading, the female herself grew indistinct, then dissolved into gold light, which flickered, then vanished Taralack Veed turned his head and met Varat’s eyes ‘Help me!’ he hissed ‘Do what?’ the Letherii demanded ‘The gate behind you – it fades! We need to drag Icarium back through! We need to get him out of here!’ ‘Are you insane?’ The Gral’s face twisted ‘Don’t you understand? Icarium – he is for your Emperor!’ A sudden chill, sweeping away the last vestiges of that healing warmth, and then, in its wake, a flood of emotion – scalding his mind Varat Taun pushed himself upright, clambered to join Taralack Veed For Rhulad Gods Yes, I see now Yes For Rhulad – even Rhulad – even that sword – yes, I see, I see! The entranceway to the throne room was unoccupied once more, as the Tiste Edur had pulled the Ceda into the sanctity of that chamber – now was their chance – he and Taralack reached the prostrate form of Icarium The Gral collected the sword and sheathed it beneath his belt, then grasped one arm ‘Take the other,’ he commanded in a hiss ‘Hurry! Before they realize – before that damned gate slams shut!’ And Varat grasped the other arm, and they began dragging Icarium back The slickness of what lay beneath the Jhag made it easier than expected **** Kneeling, Trull Sengar wiped blood from the mage’s face, cautiously, gentle round the closed eyes From beyond the archway, a profound silence Within this chamber, the sounds of weeping, muted, hopeless ‘Will he live?’ The Tiste Edur started, then looked up ‘Cotillion You said you’d send help Is this him?’ The god nodded ‘He wasn’t enough.’ ‘I know that.’ ‘So who would you have sent next?’ ‘Myself, Trull Sengar.’ Ah He looked back down at the unconscious mage ‘The Eres’al she did what no-one else could do.’ ‘So it would seem.’ ‘Unanticipated, her arrival, I presume.’ ‘Most unexpected, Trull It is unfortunate, nonetheless, that her power of healing did not reach through, into this chamber.’ The Tiste Edur frowned, then looked back up at the god ‘What you mean?’ Cotillion could not meet his eyes ‘Onrack Even now he rises Mended, more or less I think she feels for him ’ ‘And who feels for us?’ Trull demanded He turned his head aside and spat out blood There was no answer from the god The Tiste Edur slumped down into a ragged sitting position ‘I’m sorry, Cotillion I don’t know if you deserved that Probably not.’ ‘It has been an eventful night,’ the god said Then sighed ‘Such is convergence I asked you earlier, will Quick Ben live?’ Quick Ben Trull nodded ‘I think so The blood’s stopped flowing.’ ‘I have called Shadowthrone There will be healing.’ Trull Sengar glanced over to where Panek sat beside his mother – one of his mothers – ‘Shadowthrone had best hurry, before those children become orphans once again.’ A scuffling sound from the portal, and Onrack shuffled into view ‘Trull Sengar.’ He nodded, managed a broken smile ‘Onrack It seems you and I are cursed to continue our pathetic existence for a while longer.’ ‘I am pleased.’ No-one spoke for a moment, and then the T’lan Imass said, ‘Lifestealer is gone He was taken away, back through the gate.’ Cotillion hissed in frustration ‘The damned Nameless Ones! They never learn, they?’ Trull was staring at Onrack ‘Taken? He lives? Why – how? Taken?’ But it was the god who answered ‘Icarium – Lifestealer – is their finest weapon, Trull Sengar The Nameless Ones intend to fling him against your brother, the Emperor of Lether.’ As comprehension reached through the numbness of exhaustion, Trull slowly closed his eyes Oh no, please ‘I see What will happen then, Cotillion?’ ‘I don’t know No-one does Not even the Nameless Ones, although in their arrogance they would never admit to it.’ A squeal from Panek drew their attention – and there was Shadowthrone, crouching down over Minala, settling a hand on her forehead Trull spat again – the insides of his mouth were lacerated – then grunted and squinted up at Cotillion ‘I will not fight here again,’ he said ‘Nor Onrack, nor these children – Cotillion, please—’ The god turned away ‘Of course not, Trull Sengar.’ Trull watched Cotillion walk through the archway, and the Tiste Edur’s gaze fell once more on the body of Ahlrada Ahn As Shadowthrone approached Quick Ben, Trull climbed to his feet and made his way to where his friend was lying Ahlrada Ahn I not understand you – I have never understood you – but I thank you nonetheless I thank you He stepped to the entranceway, looked out, and saw Cotillion, the Patron of Assassins, the god, sitting on a shelf of stone that had slipped down from one wall, sitting, alone, with his head in his hands Epilogue In a journey through the wastes, I found a god kneeling as it pushed its hands into the sand again and again, each time lifting them up to watch the lifeless grains stream down Dismounting from my weary horse, I walked to stand before this apparition and its dusty hands and watched for a time the cycles of their motion when at last up it looked, eyes beseeching ‘Where,’ asked this god, ‘are my children?’ The Lost Believers Fisher The bite, then the blessed numbness of smoke in her lungs, slowly released as Scillara moved up to lean on the rail at Cutter’s side ‘You look far away,’ she said, scanning the endless seas He sighed, then nodded ‘Thinking of her, were you? What was her name again?’ ‘Apsalar.’ She smiled, mostly to herself, drew in more smoke, watched it whirl away from her nostrils and her pursed lips, three streams becoming one ‘Tell me about her.’ Cutter glanced back over a shoulder, and Scillara, to be companionable, did the same Barathol was at the stern, Chaur seated almost at the huge blacksmith’s boots Iskaral Pust and Mogora were nowhere in sight, likely in the cabin below, arguing over supper’s mysterious ingredients The black mule had vanished days ago, probably over the side although Iskaral simply smiled at their enquiries Mappo was at the bow, crouched down, knees drawn up Rocking, weeping He had been that way since morning and no-one seemed able to get through to find out what assailed him Cutter turned and stared back over the seas Scillara happily did the same, pulling hard on her pipe And the Daru spoke ‘I was remembering back After the big fête in Darujhistan, there was another one, a smaller one, celebrating the withdrawal of Malazan interests for the time being Anyway, it was in Coll’s estate, just before we left the city – gods below, it seems so long ago now ’ ‘You’d just met, then.’ ‘Yes Well, there was music And Apsalar she danced.’ He looked across at her ‘She danced so beautifully, all conversation stopped, everyone watched.’ Cutter shook his head ‘I couldn’t even draw breath, Scillara ’ And yours is a love that will not die So be it ‘A good memory, Cutter Hold on to it Me, I could never dance well, unless drunk or otherwise softened up.’ ‘Do you miss those days, Scillara?’ ‘No It’s more fun this way.’ ‘What way?’ ‘Well now, you see, I don’t miss a thing any more Not a thing That’s very satisfying.’ ‘You know, Scillara, I envy your happiness.’ She smiled across at him once more, a simple act that took all her will, all her strength So be it Cutter said, ‘I think I think I need to lie in your arms right now, Scillara.’ For all the wrong reasons But there’s this – in this Hood-damned world, it’s worth taking what you can get Whatever you can get Three streams Into one **** Karsa Orlong turned about as Samar Dev moved up beside him and settled down – a fierce gale was busy ripping off the surface of the waves in the sea beyond, and the hammering against the hull was incessant, as if eager spirits sought to tear the craft to pieces ‘Well, woman, what has got you looking so excited?’ ‘Something’s happened,’ she said ‘Here, give me some of that fur cloak, I’m chilled to the bone.’ He yielded the bear fur ‘Take it.’ ‘I bless your martyrdom, Karsa Orlong.’ ‘A wasted effort, then,’ he rumbled in reply ‘I will be martyr to no-one, not even the gods.’ ‘Just a saying, you thick-skulled oaf But listen, something happened There was an assault Hundreds of Edur warriors and Letherii auxiliaries And, another champion.’ Karsa grunted ‘Plenty of those in this fleet.’ ‘But only that champion and his servant returned And one Letherii The rest were slaughtered.’ ‘Where was this battle? We have seen no other ships.’ ‘Through a warren, Karsa Orlong In any case, I heard the name of the champion And this is why you have to listen to me We have to get off this damned ship – if we even come in sight of land between here and that empire, we should go over the side You said I was excited? Wrong I am terrified.’ ‘And who is this terrifying champion, then?’ ‘He is named Icarium The Slayer—’ ‘Whose servant is a Trell.’ She frowned ‘No, a Gral Do you know Icarium? Do you know the awful legends surrounding him?’ ‘I know nothing of legends, Samar Dev But we fought, once, Icarium and I It was interrupted before I could kill him.’ ‘Karsa—’ But the Toblakai was smiling ‘Your words please me, woman I will face him again, then.’ She stared at him in the gloom of the hold, but said nothing **** On another ship in the fleet, Taralack Veed was curled up in the hold, back to the sloping, sweating hull, as shivers racked through him Icarium stood before him, and was speaking: ‘ difficult to understand The Letherii seemed so contemptuous of me before, so what has changed? Now I see worship and hope in their eyes, their deference unnerves me, Taralack Veed.’ ‘Go away,’ the Gral mumbled ‘I’m not well Leave me.’ ‘What ails you is not physical, I fear, my friend Please, come up on deck, breathe deep this enlivening air – it will soothe you, I am certain of it.’ ‘No.’ Icarium slowly crouched until his grey eyes were level with Taralack’s belligerent stare ‘I awoke that morning more refreshed, more hopeful than I have ever been – I feel the truth of that claim A warmth, deep within me, soft and welcoming And it has not diminished since that time I not understand it, friend—’ ‘Then,’ the Gral said in a grating voice, bitter with venom, ‘I must tell you once more Who, what you are I must tell you, prepare you for what you must You leave me no choice.’ ‘There is no need,’ Icarium said in a soft tone, reaching out one hand and resting it on Taralack Veed’s shoulder ‘You fool!’ the Gral hissed, twisting away from that touch ‘Unlike you,’ he spat, ‘I remember!’ Icarium straightened, looked down on his old friend ‘There is no need,’ he said again, then turned away You not understand There is no need **** He stood on the highest tower of Mock’s Hold, expressionless eyes on the chaos in the city below The Adjunct’s ships were drawing away from the harbour, out into the unlit waters of the bay beyond To his right, less than three strides away, was the fissure that gave the far side of the platform an alarming cant The crack was recent, no more than a year old, reaching all the way down the keep into the cellars below, and the repairs by the engineers seemed desultory, verging on incompetent The old heart of the Malazan Empire was wounded, and he did not expect it to survive much longer After a time, he sensed a presence behind him, but did not turn ‘Emperor,’ he said in his quiet voice, ‘it has been a long time, hasn’t it?’ Shadowthrone’s whisper reached out to him, like a chilling caress ‘Must this be your way, Tayschrenn? Each and every time.’ A soft snort, the voice drawing closer as it continued, ‘You’ve let yourself be caged Again You drive me mad.’ ‘You have had a busy night,’ the Imperial High Mage observed ‘Ah, you sensed my activities? Of course you did So, not as caged as it would seem.’ ‘I endeavour,’ said Tayschrenn, ‘to take the long view on such matters.’ He paused, then added, ‘As you.’ He glanced over at the insubstantial smear of darkness at his side ‘Your new role would not have changed you that much, I suspect.’ ‘You schemed with Quick Ben and Kalam,’ Shadowthrone said ‘You travelled all the way to Seven Cities to it, yet what have your plans achieved? The Empress on shifting sands, a Jhistal priest waddling unfettered in the corridors of power, the Claw infiltrated and decimated and my loyal Wickans assailed – but tell me this, Tayschrenn, could you have ever predicted D’rek’s answer to the betrayal of the priests and priestesses?’ ‘Betrayal?’ ‘D’rek slaughtered your kin! Every temple!’ The High Mage was silent for a dozen heartbeats, as the god at his side grew ever more agitated Then Tayschrenn said, ‘A year ago, an old friend of mine set out, in haste, from here – sailing to the Grand Temple of D’rek in Kartool City.’ ‘You knew all that?’ Tayschrenn half-smiled ‘The ship he hired was mine Alas, he was unaware of that detail.’ ‘I knew it!’ Shadowthrone hissed ‘You never left the cult!’ ‘The Worm of Autumn is the harbinger of death, and death comes to us all Us mortals, that is How can one leave the acceptance of that? What would be the point?’ ‘This empire was mine! Not D’rek’s! Not yours!’ ‘Emperor, your paranoia always disturbed me more than your acquisitiveness In any case, Laseen now rules for the moment Unless,’ he squinted at the god, ‘you are planning a triumphant return?’ ‘To save everyone from themselves? I think not Hate is the world’s most pernicious weed especially when people like you nothing.’ ‘Every garden I have tended is either dead or wild, Emperor.’ ‘Why did you agree to be Quick Ben’s shaved knuckle in the hole, Tayschrenn?’ The High Mage blinked in surprise ‘And why didn’t he call on you when I sent him into that nightmare?’ ‘I would have been disappointed indeed,’ Tayschrenn slowly said, ‘had he called on me so soon As I said earlier, Emperor, I hold to the long view on matters of this realm.’ ‘Why didn’t D’rek kill you?’ ‘She tried.’ ‘What?’ ‘I talked her out of it.’ ‘Abyss take me, how I hate you!’ ‘Even gods must learn to control their tempers,’ Tayschrenn said, ‘lest they set a bad example.’ ‘You said that to D’rek?’ ‘I am saying that to you, Shadowthrone.’ ‘My temper is fine! I am perfectly calm – seething with fury and hatred, mind you, but calm!’ Neither spoke for a time after that, until the god murmured, ‘My poor Wickans ’ ‘They are not as vulnerable as you fear, Emperor They will have Nil and Nether They will have Temul, and when Temul is old, decades from now, he will have a young warrior to teach, whose name shall be Coltaine.’ He clasped his hands behind his back, frowning down at the smokewreathed city as the first greying of dawn approached ‘If you would fear,’ he said, ‘fear for your own child.’ ‘I fear nothing—’ ‘Liar You heard Temper step out of Coop’s – and you fled.’ ‘Expedience!’ ‘Unquestionably.’ ‘You’re in a nest of vipers here – I am happy to leave you to it.’ Tayschrenn sketched a modest bow ‘Emperor Please convey my greetings to Cotillion.’ ‘Tell him yourself, if you dare.’ ‘It was not me who stole Kalam from him – tell me, does the assassin live?’ ‘He’s in the Deadhouse – isn’t that answer enough?’ ‘Not really.’ ‘I know!’ Shadowthrone cackled in glee, then vanished like mist in the wind **** The morning was bright, the sun already warm, as the Master Investigator paused outside the Imperial Domicile in the city of Kartool He adjusted his uniform, ensuring that every wrinkle was smoothed away Then he licked the palms of his hands and carefully, tenderly, eased back his unruly hair – unruly in his own mind, at least A last glance down at his boots, reassured by their unmarred polish, then he smartly ascended the steps and entered the squat building A nod rather than an answering salute to the guards stationed just within, then down the hallway to the door of the Commander’s office A knock, sharp and sure, and, upon hearing a muffled invitation to enter, he opened the door and marched inside, halting before the desk, behind which sat the Commander Who now looked up, and scowled ‘All right, you pompous ass, let’s have it.’ The slight deflation was involuntary on the Master Investigator’s part, but he managed to mask it as best as possible ‘I have the following to report, sir, regarding the investigation I rigorously undertook on the mysterious deaths of the acolytes and priests of the temple dedicated to D’rek on the Street of—’ ‘Will you shut up! You want to report your conclusions, yes? Then just that!’ ‘Of course, sir Given lack of evidence to the contrary, sir, only one conclusion is possible The devotees of D’rek have, one and all, committed a thorough orgy of suicide in the span of a single night.’ Lizard eyes regarded him for an uncomfortably long time Then he said, ‘Sergeant Hellian, the original investigator, said precisely the same thing.’ ‘Clearly a perceptive woman, sir.’ ‘A drunk I shipped her to the Fourteenth.’ ‘The Fourteenth ?’ ‘Write up your conclusions,’ the Commander then said, ‘and close the investigation Now get out of here.’ The Master Investigator saluted and escaped with as much dignity as he could manage Along the corridor, another nod to the guards, then out through the main doors, onto the landing, then down the steps Where he paused, looked up The sunlight was glistening from the magnificent webs of the paralt spiders now resident in the towers of Kartool A skein of crystal beauty, scintillating like threads of diamond against the stunning blue sky Optimism returning, he sighed, deciding that he had never before seen such a wondrous, breathtaking sight And so he set off with a lighter step, boots ringing smartly on the cobbles While a score of huge spiders, crouched in their small caves dug into the walls of the towers, looked with cold, multifaceted eyes Looked down upon all that crawled below, occasionally curious, ever patient, even as the sweet whispers of hunger flitted through their liquid brains The webs were set And the traps, in their elaborate elegance, were never empty for long This ends the sixth tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen ScannedandproofedbyNizhny(version1) Proofed against DT by billbo196 (version2.0) - added missing pages, italics, fixed split paras, still missing glossary and dramatis personae-feb 2008 ... Tayschrenn, the Emperor’s new – at the time – High Mage Hellian had but heard tales of the celebrations, since they had been outlawed as soon as the Malazan occupiers settled the imperial mantle upon the. .. yet the locations known nonetheless Upon taking their positions, a long moment of stillness passed, then the first of the Nameless Ones spoke ‘We stand once more before necessity These are the. .. purpose They assert distinction, they redirect the path walked before, and the path to come They shape the emblems upon the standards in every war, and so give justification to slaughter Their