Gardens Of The Moon And Deadhouse Gates Part 5

By David Gunn'I was hooked from page two, then hooked, landed, gutted and fried ... Yeah! Starship Troopers Starship Troopers meets Schwarzenneger's meets Schwarzenneger's Commando!' Commando!'NEAL ASHER Few survive the cage. Fewer still live to face the whipping post. But stubborn, insubordinate son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h Sven Tveskoeg does. As this ex-sergeant in the legion etrangere feels the first lash fall, he sees the desert tribes attack and watches them slaughter his comrades before his comrades can kill feels the first lash fall, he sees the desert tribes attack and watches them slaughter his comrades before his comrades can kill him ... him ...Rescued from certain death, Sven joins the tribes. However his ruthless skills have come to the attention of an elite special ops force, the infamous Death's Head.They want Sven to help them out with a little 'local difficulty'. He knows he's a p.a.w.n in an altogether more dangerous game and p.a.w.ns have a habit of being sacrificed. But Sven is n.o.body's sacrifice. And even a p.a.w.n can checkmate a king ...'An outrageous read: violent, witty and immense fun'DEATH RAY'Sven's a fun guy to hang out with ... always ready with an outrageously violent plan ... and things explode with indecent regularity'SFX'Powerful and explosive ... one of the cla.s.siest fictional hard men I've come across in a long time'SF REVU'Violent, graphic and at times a little crazy ... A fun ride'SFFWORLD9780553818710COMING SOON FROM BANTAM BOOKS

Deadhouse Gates

A Tale of the Malazan Book of the Fallen.

STEVEN ERIKSON

Table of Contents t.i.tle Page Dedication ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Maps DRAMATIS PERSONAE Prologue BOOK ONE: RARAKU CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE BOOK TWO: WHIRLWIND CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN BOOK THREE: CHAIN OF DOGS CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN BOOK FOUR: DEADHOUSE GATES CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR EPILOGUE GLOSSARY The world of sorcery Extract: Memories of Ice

This novel is dedicated to two gentlemen: David Thomas Jr, who welcomed me to England with an introduction to a certain agent; and Patrick Walsh, the agent he introduced me to. There has been a lot of faith shown over the years, and I thank you both.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With deepest grat.i.tude I acknowledge the following for their support: The staff at Cafe Rouge, Dorking (keep the coffees coming...); the folks at Psion, whose extraordinary 5 Series was home to this novel's first draft; Daryl and crew at Cafe Hosete; and, of course, Simon Taylor and the rest at Transworld.

For my family and friends, thank you for your faith and encouragement, without which all that I achieve means little.

Thanks also to Stephen and Ross Donaldson for their kind words, James Barclay, Sean Russell and Ariel. Finally, a big thank you to those readers who took time to write their comments on various websites writing is a solitary, isolating activity, but you have made it less so.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

ON THE PATH OF THE HAND.

Icarium, a mixed-blood Jaghut wanderer a mixed-blood Jaghut wandererMappo, his Trell companion his Trell companionIskaral Pust, a High Priest of Shadow a High Priest of ShadowRyllandaras, the White Jackal, a D'ivers the White Jackal, a D'iversMessremb, a Soletaken a SoletakenGryllen, a D'ivers a D'iversMogora, a D'ivers a D'ivers THE MALAZANSFelisin, youngest daughter of House Paran youngest daughter of House ParanHeboric Light Touch, exiled historian and ex-priest of Fener exiled historian and ex-priest of FenerBaudin, companion to Felisin and Heboric companion to Felisin and HeboricFiddler, 9th Squad, Bridgeburners 9th Squad, BridgeburnersCrokus, a visitor from Darujhistan a visitor from DarujhistanApsalar, 9th Squad, Bridgeburners 9th Squad, BridgeburnersKalam, a corporal in the 9th Squad, Bridgeburners a corporal in the 9th Squad, BridgeburnersDuiker, Imperial Historian Imperial HistorianKulp, cadre mage, 7th Army cadre mage, 7th ArmyMallick Rel, chief adviser to the High Fist of the Seven Cities chief adviser to the High Fist of the Seven CitiesSawark, commander of the guard in the Otataral mining camp, Skullcup commander of the guard in the Otataral mining camp, SkullcupPella, a soldier stationed at Skullcup a soldier stationed at SkullcupPormqual, High Fist of the Seven Cities, in Aren High Fist of the Seven Cities, in ArenBlistig, Commander of Aren Guard Commander of Aren GuardTopper, Commander of the Claw Commander of the ClawLull, a captain in the Sialk Marines a captain in the Sialk MarinesChenned, a captain in the 7th Army a captain in the 7th ArmySulmar, a captain in the 7th Army a captain in the 7th ArmyList, a corporal in the 7th Army a corporal in the 7th ArmyMincer, a sapper a sapperCuttle, a sapper a sapperGesler, a corporal in the Coastal Guard a corporal in the Coastal GuardStormy, a soldier in the Coastal Guard a soldier in the Coastal GuardTruth, a recruit in the Coastal Guard a recruit in the Coastal GuardSquint, a bowman a bowmanPearl, a Claw a ClawCaptain Keneb, a refugee a refugeeSelv, Keneb's wife Keneb's wifeMinala, Selv's sister Selv's sisterKesen, Keneb and Selv's first-born son Keneb and Selv's first-born sonVaneb, Keneb and Selv's second-born son Keneb and Selv's second-born sonCaptain, owner and commander of the trader craft owner and commander of the trader craft Ragstopper RagstopperBent, a Wickan cattle-dog a Wickan cattle-dogRoach, a Hengese lapdog a Hengese lapdog WICKANSColtaine, Fist, 7th ArmyTemul, a young lancer a young lancerSormo E'nath, a warlock a warlockNil, a warlock a warlockNether, a warlock a warlockBult, a veteran commander and Coltaine's uncle a veteran commander and Coltaine's uncle THE RED BLADESBaria Setral (Dosin Pali) (Dosin Pali)Mesker Setral, his brother (Dosin Pali) his brother (Dosin Pali)Tene Baralta (Ehrlitan) (Ehrlitan) Aralt Arpat Aralt Arpat (Ehrlitan) (Ehrlitan) Lostara Yil Lostara Yil (Ehrlitan) (Ehrlitan) n.o.bLES ON THE CHAIN OF DOGS (MALAZAN)Nethpara Lenestro Lenestro Pullyk Alar Pullyk Alar Tumlit Tumlit FOLLOWERS OF THE APOCALYPSESha'ik, leader of the rebellion leader of the rebellionLeoman, captain in the Raraku Apocalypse captain in the Raraku ApocalypseToblakai, a bodyguard and warrior in the Raraku Apocalypse a bodyguard and warrior in the Raraku ApocalypseFebryl, a mage and elder adviser to Sha'ik a mage and elder adviser to Sha'ikKorbolo Dom, renegade Fist leading the Odhan army renegade Fist leading the Odhan armyKamist Reloe, High Mage with the Odhan army High Mage with the Odhan armyL'oric, a mage with the Raraku Apocalypse a mage with the Raraku ApocalypseBidithal, a mage with the Raraku Apocalypse a mage with the Raraku ApocalypseMebra, a spy in Ehrlitan a spy in Ehrlitan OTHERSSalk Elan, a traveller on the seas a traveller on the sea.s.shan, a Hound of Shadow a Hound of ShadowGear, a Hound of Shadow a Hound of ShadowBlind, a Hound of Shadow a Hound of ShadowBaran, a Hound of Shadow a Hound of ShadowRood, a Hound of Shadow a Hound of ShadowMoby, a familiar a familiarHentos Ilm, a T'lan Ima.s.s Bonecaster a T'lan Ima.s.s BonecasterLegana Breed, a T'lan Ima.s.s a T'lan Ima.s.sOlar Ethil, a T'lan Ima.s.s Bonecaster a T'lan Ima.s.s BonecasterKimloc, a Tanno Spiritwalker a Tanno SpiritwalkerBeneth, a crime lord a crime lordIrp, a small servant a small servantRudd, an equally small servant an equally small servantApt, an aptorian demon an aptorian demonPanek, a child a childKarpolan Demesand, a merchant a merchantBula, an innkeeper an innkeeperCotillion, patron G.o.d of a.s.sa.s.sins patron G.o.d of a.s.sa.s.sinsShadowthrone, Ruler of High House Shadow Ruler of High House ShadowRellock, a servant a servant

Prologue

What see you in the horizon's bruised smear That cannot be blotted out By your raised hand?The Bridgeburners Toe the Younger

1163rd Year of Burn's Sleep Ninth Year of the Rule of Empress Laseen Year of the CullHe came shambling into Judgement's Round from the Avenue of Souls, a misshapen ma.s.s of flies. Seething lumps crawled on his body in mindless migration, black and glittering and occasionally falling away in frenzied clumps that exploded into fragmented flight as they struck the cobbles. The Thirsting Hour was coming to a close and the priest staggered in its wake, blind, deaf and silent. Honouring his G.o.d on this day, the servant of Hood, Lord of Death, had joined his companions in stripping naked and smearing himself in the blood of executed murderers, blood that was stored in giant amphorae lining the walls of the temple's nave. The brothers had then moved in procession out onto the streets of Unta to greet the G.o.d's sprites, enjoining the mortal dance that marked the Season of Rot's last day.The guards lining the Round parted to let the priest pa.s.s, then parted further for the spinning, buzzing cloud that trailed him. The sky over Unta was still more grey than blue, as the flies that had swept at dawn into the capital of the Malazan Empire now rose, slowly winging out over the bay towards the salt marshes and sunken islands beyond the reef. Pestilence came with the Season of Rot, and the Season had come an unprecedented three times in the past ten years.The air of the Round still buzzed, was still speckled as if filled with flying grit. Somewhere in the streets beyond a dog yelped like a thing near death but not near enough, and close to the Round's central fountain the abandoned mule that had collapsed earlier still kicked feebly in the air. Flies had crawled into the beast through every orifice and it was now bloated with gases. The animal, stubborn by its breed, was now over an hour in dying. As the priest staggered sightlessly past, flies rose from the mule in a swift curtain to join those already enshrouding him.It was clear to Felisin from where she and the others waited that the priest of Hood was striding directly towards her. His eyes were ten thousand eyes, but she was certain they were all fixed on her. Yet even this growing horror did little to stir the numbness that lay like a smothering blanket over her mind; she was aware of it rising inside but the awareness seemed more a memory of fear than fear now alive within her.She barely recalled the first Season of Rot she'd lived through, but had clear memories of the second one. Just under three years ago, she had witnessed this day secure in the family estate, in a solid house with its windows shuttered and cloth-sealed, with the braziers set outside the doors and on the courtyard's high, broken-gla.s.s-rimmed walls billowing the acrid smoke of istaarl leaves. The last day of the Season and its Thirsting Hour had been a time of remote revulsion for her, irritating and inconvenient but nothing more. Then she'd given little thought to the city's countless beggars and the stray animals bereft of shelter, or even to the poorer residents who were subsequently press-ganged into cleanup crews for days afterwards.The same city, but a different world.Felisin wondered if the guards would make any move towards the priest as he came closer to the Cull's victims. She and the others in the line were the charges of the Empress now Laseen's responsibility and the priest's path could be seen as blind and random, the imminent collision one of chance rather than design, although in her bones Felisin knew differently. Would the helmed guards step forward, seek to guide the priest to one side, lead him safely through the Round?'I think not,' said the man squatting on her right. His half-closed eyes, buried deep in their sockets, flashed with something that might have been amus.e.m.e.nt. 'Seen you flicking your gaze, guards to priest, priest to guards.'The big, silent man on her left slowly rose to his feet, pulling the chain with him. Felisin winced as the shackle yanked at her when the man folded his arms across his bare, scarred chest. He glared at the approaching priest but said nothing.'What does he want with me?' Felisin asked in a whisper. 'What have I done to earn a priest of Hood's attention?'The squatting man rocked back on his heels, tilting his face into the late afternoon sun. 'Queen of Dreams, is this self-centred youth I hear from those full, sweet lips? Or just the usual stance of n.o.ble blood around which the universe revolves? Answer me, I pray, fickle Queen!'Felisin scowled. 'I felt better when I thought you asleep or dead.''Dead men do not squat, la.s.s, they sprawl. Hood's priest comes not for you but for me.'She faced him then, the chain rattling between them. He looked more of a sunken-eyed toad than a man. He was bald, his face webbed in tattooing, minute, black, square-etched symbols hidden within an overall pattern covering skin like a wrinkled scroll. He was naked but for a ragged loincloth, its dye a faded red. Flies crawled all over him; reluctant to leave they danced on but not, Felisin realized, to Hood's bleak orchestration. The tattooed pattern covered the man the boar's face overlying his own, the intricate maze of script-threaded, curled fur winding down his arms, covering his exposed thighs and shins, and the detailed hooves etched into the skin of his feet. Felisin had until now been too self-absorbed, too numb with shock to pay any attention to her companions in the chain line: this man was a priest of Fener, the Boar of Summer, and the flies seemed to know it, understand it enough to alter their frenzied motion. She watched with morbid fascination as they gathered at the stumps at the ends of the man's wrists, the old scar tissue the only place on him unclaimed by Fener, but the paths the sprites took to those stumps touched not a single tattooed line. The flies danced a dance of avoidance but for all that, they were eager to dance.The priest of Fener had been ankle-shackled last in the line. Everyone else had the narrow iron bands fastened around their wrists. His feet were wet with blood and the flies hovered there but did not land. She saw his eyes flick open as the sun's light was suddenly blocked.Hood's priest had arrived. Chain stirred as the man on Felisin's left drew back as far as the links allowed. The wall at her back felt hot, the tiles painted with scenes of imperial pageantry now slick through the thin weave of her slave tunic. Felisin stared at the fly-shrouded creature standing wordless before the squatting priest of Fener. She could see no exposed flesh, nothing of the man himself the flies had claimed all of him and beneath them he lived in darkness where even the sun's heat could not touch him. The cloud around him spread out now and Felisin shrank back as countless cold insect legs touched her legs, crawling swiftly up her thighs she pulled her tunic's hem close around her, clamping her legs tight.The priest of Fener spoke, his wide face split into a humourless grin. 'The Thirsting Hour's well past, Acolyte. Go back to your temple.'Hood's servant made no reply but it seemed the buzzing changed pitch, until the music of the wings vibrated in Felisin's bones.The priest's deep eyes narrowed and his tone shifted. 'Ah, well now. Indeed I was once a servant of Fener but no longer, not for years Fener's touch cannot be scrubbed from my skin. Yet it seems that while the Boar of Summer has no love for me, he has even less for you.'Felisin felt something shiver in her soul as the buzzing rapidly shifted, forming words that she could understand. 'Secret. . . to show . . . now . . .''Go on then,' the one-time servant of Fener growled, 'show me.'Perhaps Fener acted then, the swatting hand of a furious G.o.d Felisin would remember the moment and think on it often or the secret was the mocking of immortals, a joke far beyond her understanding, but at that moment the rising tide of horror within her broke free, the numbness of her soul seared away as the flies exploded outward, dispersing in all directions to reveal ... no-one.The former priest of Fener flinched as if struck, his eyes wide. From across the Round half a dozen guards cried out, wordless sounds punched from their throats. Chains snapped as others in the line jolted as if to flee. The iron loops set in the wall s.n.a.t.c.hed taut, but the loops held as did the chains. The guards rushed forward and the line shrank back into submission.'Now that,' the tattooed man shakily muttered, 'was uncalled for.'

An hour pa.s.sed, an hour in which the mystery, shock and horror of Hood's priest sank down within Felisin to become but one more layer, the latest but not the last in what had become an unending nightmare. An acolyte of Hood ... who was not there. The buzzing of wings that formed words. Was that Hood himself? Had the Lord of Death come to walk among mortals? And why stand before a once-priest of Fener Was that Hood himself? Had the Lord of Death come to walk among mortals? And why stand before a once-priest of Fener what was the message behind the revelation? what was the message behind the revelation?But slowly the questions faded in her mind, the numbness seeping back, the return of cold despair. The Empress had culled the n.o.bility, stripped the Houses and families of their wealth followed by a summary accusation and conviction of treason that had ended in chains. As for the ex-priest on her right and the huge, b.e.s.t.i.a.l man with all the makings of a common criminal on her left, clearly neither one could claim n.o.ble blood.She laughed softly, startling both men.'Has Hood's secret revealed itself to you, then, la.s.s?' the ex-priest asked.'No.''What do you find so amusing?'She shook her head. I had expected to find myself in good company, how's that for an upturned thought? There you have it, the very att.i.tude the peasants hungered to tear down, the very same fuel the Empress has touched to flame had expected to find myself in good company, how's that for an upturned thought? There you have it, the very att.i.tude the peasants hungered to tear down, the very same fuel the Empress has touched to flame-'Child!'The voice was that of an aged woman, still haughty but with an air of desperate yearning. Felisin closed her eyes briefly, then straightened and looked along the line to the gaunt old woman beyond the thug. The woman was wearing her night-clothes, torn and smeared. With n.o.ble blood, no less. With n.o.ble blood, no less. 'Lady Gaesen.' 'Lady Gaesen.'The old woman reached out a shaking hand. 'Yes! Wife to Lord Hilrac! I am Lady Gaesen ...' The words came as if she'd forgotten who she was, and now she frowned through the cracked make-up covering her wrinkles and her red-shot eyes fixed on Felisin. 'I know you,' she hissed. 'House of Paran. Youngest daughter. Felisin!'Felisin went cold. She turned away and stared straight ahead, out into the compound where the guards stood leaning on pikes pa.s.sing flasks of ale between them and waving away the last of the flies. A cart had arrived for the mule, four ash-smeared men clambering down from its bed with ropes and gaffs. Beyond the walls encircling the Round rose Unta's painted spires and domes. She longed for the shadowed streets between them, longed for the pampered life of a week ago, Sebry barking harsh commands at her as she led her favourite mare through her paces. And she would look up as she guided the mare in a delicate, precise turn, to see the row of green-leafed leadwoods separating the riding ground from the family vineyards.Beside her the thug grunted. 'Hood's feet, the b.i.t.c.h has some sense of humour.'Which b.i.t.c.h? Felisin wondered, but she managed to hold her expression even as she lost the comfort of her memories. Felisin wondered, but she managed to hold her expression even as she lost the comfort of her memories.The ex-priest stirred. 'Sisterly spat, is it?' He paused, then dryly added, 'Seems a bit extreme.'The thug grunted again and leaned forward, his shadow draping Felisin. 'Defrocked priest, are you? Not like the Empress to do any temples a favour.''She didn't. My loss of piety was long ago. I'm sure the Empress would rather I'd stayed in the cloister.''As if she'd care,' the thug said derisively as he settled back into his pose.Lady Gaesen rattled, 'You must speak with her, her, Felisin! An appeal! I have rich friends-' Felisin! An appeal! I have rich friends-'The thug's grunt turned into a bark. 'Farther up the line, hag, that's where you'll find your rich friends!'Felisin just shook her head. Speak with her, it's been months. Not even when Father died. with her, it's been months. Not even when Father died.A silence followed, dragging on, approaching the silence that had existed before this spate of babble, but then the ex-priest cleared his throat, spat and muttered, 'Not worth looking for salvation in a woman who's just following orders, Lady, never mind that one being this girl's sister-'Felisin winced, then glared at the ex-priest. 'You presume-''He ain't presuming nothing,' growled the thug. 'Forget what's in the blood, what's supposed to be in it by your slant on things. This is the work of the Empress. Maybe you think it's personal, maybe you have to think that, being what you are ...''What I am?' Felisin laughed harshly. 'What House claims you as kin?'The thug grinned. 'The House of Shame. What of it? Yours ain't looking any less shabby.''As I thought,' Felisin said, ignoring the truth of his last observation with difficulty. She glowered at the guards. 'What's happening? Why are we just sitting here?'The ex-priest spat again. 'The Thirsting Hour's past. The mob outside needs organizing.' He glanced up at her from under the shelf of his brows. 'The peasants need to be roused. We're the first, girl, and the example's got to be established. What happens here in Unta is going to rattle every n.o.ble-born in the Empire.''Nonsense!' Lady Gaesen snapped. 'We shall be well treated. The Empress shall have to treat us well-'The thug grunted a third time what pa.s.sed for laughter, Felisin realized and said, 'If stupidity was a crime, lady, you would've been arrested years ago. The ogre's right. Not many of us are going to make it to the slave ships. This parade down Colonnade Avenue is going to be one long bloodbath. Mind you,' he added, eyes narrowing on the guards, 'old Baudin ain't going to be torn apart by any mob of peasants ...'Felisin felt real fear stirring in her stomach. She fought off a shiver. 'Mind if I stay in your shadow, Baudin?'The man looked down at her. 'You're a bit plump for my tastes.' He turned away, then added, 'But you do what you like.'The ex-priest leaned close. 'Thinking on it, girl, this rivalry of yours ain't in the league of tattle-tails and scratch-fights. Likely your sister wants to be sure you-''She's Adjunct Tavore,' Felisin cut in. 'She's not my sister any more. She renounced our House at the call of the Empress.''Even so, I've an inkling it's still personal.'Felisin scowled. 'How would you know anything about it?'The man made a slight, ironic bow. 'Thief once, then priest, now historian. I well know the tense position the n.o.bility finds itself in.'Felisin's eyes slowly widened and she cursed herself for her stupidity. Even Baudin who could not have helped overhearing leaned forward for a searching stare. 'Heboric,' he said. 'Heboric Light Touch.'Heboric raised his arms. 'As light as ever.''You wrote that revised history,' Felisin said. 'Committed treason-'Heboric's wiry brows rose in mock alarm. 'G.o.ds forbid! A philosophic divergence of opinions, nothing more! Duiker's own words at the trial in my defence, Fener bless him.''But the Empress wasn't listening,' Baudin said, grinning. 'After all, you called her a murderer, and then had the gall to say she bungled the job!''Found an illicit copy, did you?'Baudin blinked.'In any case,' Heboric continued to Felisin, 'it's my guess your sister the Adjunct plans on your getting to the slave ships in one piece. Your brother disappearing on Genabackis took the life out of your father... so I've heard,' he added, grinning. 'But it was the rumours of treason that put spurs to your sister, wasn't it? Clearing the family name and all that-''You make it sound reasonable, Heboric,' Felisin said, hearing the bitterness in her voice but not caring any more. 'We differed in our opinions, Tavore and I, and now you see the result.''Your opinions of what, precisely?'She did not reply.There was a sudden stirring in the line. The guards straightened and swung to face the Round's West Gate. Felisin paled as she saw her sister Adjunct Tavore now, heir to Lorn who'd died in Darujhistan ride up on her stallion, a beast bred out of Paran stables, no less. Beside her was the ever-present T'amber, a beautiful young woman whose long, tawny mane gave substance to her name. Where she'd come from was anyone's guess, but she was now Tavore's personal aide. Behind these two rode a score of officers and a company of heavy cavalry, the soldiers looking exotic, foreign.'Touch of irony,' Heboric muttered, eyeing the horsesoldiers.Baudin jutted his head forward and spat. 'Red Swords, the bloodless b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.'The historian threw the man an amused glance. 'Travelled well in your profession, Baudin? Seen the sea walls of Aren, have you?'The man shifted uneasily, then shrugged. 'Stood a deck or two in my time, ogre. Besides,' he added, 'the rumour of them's been in the city a week or more.'There was a stirring from the Red Sword troop, and Felisin saw mailed hands close on weapon grips, peaked helms turning as one towards the Adjunct. Sister Tavore, did our brother's disappearance cut you so deep? How great his footing you must imagine, to seek this recompense . . . and then, to make your loyalty absolute, you chose between me and Mother for the symbolic sacrifice. Didn't you realize that Hood stood on Sister Tavore, did our brother's disappearance cut you so deep? How great his footing you must imagine, to seek this recompense . . . and then, to make your loyalty absolute, you chose between me and Mother for the symbolic sacrifice. Didn't you realize that Hood stood on the side the side of both choices? of both choices? At least At least Mother is with her beloved husband now . . . Mother is with her beloved husband now . . . She watched as Tavore scanned her guard briefly, then said something to T'amber, who edged her own mount towards the East Gate. She watched as Tavore scanned her guard briefly, then said something to T'amber, who edged her own mount towards the East Gate.Baudin grunted one more time. 'Look lively. The endless hour's about to begin.'

It was one thing to accuse the Empress of murder, it was quite another to predict her next move. If only they'd heeded my warning. If only they'd heeded my warning. Heboric winced as they shuffled forward, the shackles cutting hard against his ankles. Heboric winced as they shuffled forward, the shackles cutting hard against his ankles.People of civilized countenance made much of exposing the soft underbellies of their psyche effete and sensitive were the brands of finer breeding. It was easy for them, safe, and that was the whole point, after all: a statement of coddled opulence that burned the throats of the poor more than any ostentatious show of wealth.Heboric had said as much in his treatise, and could now admit a bitter admiration for the Empress and for Adjunct Tavore, Laseen's instrument in this. The excessive brutality of the midnight arrests doors battered down, families dragged from their beds amidst wailing servants provided the first layer of shock. Dazed by sleep deprivation, the n.o.bles were trussed up and shackled, forced to stand before a drunken magistrate and a jury of beggars dragged in from the streets. It was a sour and obvious mockery of justice that stripped away the few remaining expectations of civil behaviour stripped away civilization itself, leaving nothing but the chaos of savagery.Shock layered on shock, a rending of those fine underbellies. Tavore knew her own kind, knew their weaknesses and was ruthless in exploiting them. What could drive a person to such viciousness?The poor folk mobbed the streets when they heard the details, screaming adoration for their Empress. Carefully triggered riots, looting and slaughter followed, raging through the n.o.ble District, hunting down those few selected highborns who hadn't been arrested enough of them to whet the mob's bloodl.u.s.t, give them faces to focus on with rage and hate. Then followed the reimposition of order, lest the city take flame.The Empress made few mistakes. She'd used the opportunity to round up malcontents and unaligned academics, to close the fist of military presence on the capital, drumming the need for more troops, more recruits, more protection against the treasonous scheming of the n.o.ble cla.s.s. The seized a.s.sets paid for this martial expansion. An exquisite move even if forewarned, rippling out with the force of Imperial Decree through the Empire, the cruel rage now sweeping through each city.Bitter admiration. Heboric kept finding the need to spit, something he hadn't done since his cut-purse days in the Mouse Quarter of Malaz City. He could see the shock written on most of the faces in the chain line. Faces above nightclothes mostly, grimy and filthy from the pits, leaving their wearers bereft of even the social armour of regular clothing. Dishevelled hair, stunned expressions, broken poses everything the mob beyond the Round l.u.s.ted to see, hungered to flail-Welcome to the streets, Heboric thought to himself as the guards prodded the line into motion, the Adjunct looking on, straight in her high saddle, her thin face drawn in until nothing but lines remained the slit of her eyes, the brackets around her uncurved, almost lipless mouth Heboric thought to himself as the guards prodded the line into motion, the Adjunct looking on, straight in her high saddle, her thin face drawn in until nothing but lines remained the slit of her eyes, the brackets around her uncurved, almost lipless mouth d.a.m.n, but she wasn't born with much, was she? d.a.m.n, but she wasn't born with much, was she? The looks went to her young sister, to the la.s.s stumbling a step ahead of him. The looks went to her young sister, to the la.s.s stumbling a step ahead of him.Heboric's eyes fixed on Adjunct Tavore, curious, seeking something a flicker of malicious pleasure, maybe as her icy gaze swept the line and lingered for the briefest of moments on her sister. But the pause was all she revealed, a recognition acknowledged, nothing more. The gaze swept on.The guards opened the East Gate two hundred paces ahead, near the front of the chained line. A roar poured through that ancient arched pa.s.sageway, a wave of sound that buffeted soldier and prisoner alike, bouncing off the high walls and rising up amidst an explosion of terrified pigeons from the upper eaves. The sound of flapping wings drifted down like polite applause, although to Heboric it seemed that he alone appreciated that ironic touch of the G.o.ds. Not to be denied a gesture, he managed a slight bow.Hood keep his d.a.m.ned secrets. Here, Fener you old sow, it's that itch I could never scratch. Look on, now, closely, see what becomes of your wayward son.

Some part of Felisin's mind held on to sanity, held with a brutal grip in the face of a maelstrom. Soldiers lined Colonnade Avenue in ranks three deep, but again and again the mob seemed to find weak spots in that bristling line. She found herself observing, clinically, even as hands tore at her, fists pummelled her, blurred faces lunged at her with gobs of spit. And even as sanity held within her, so too a pair of steady arms encircled her arms without hands, the ends scarred and suppurating, arms that pushed her forward, ever forward. No-one touched the priest. No-one dared. While ahead was Baudin more horrifying than the mob itself.He killed effortlessly. He tossed bodies aside with contempt, roaring, gesturing, beckoning. Even the soldiers stared beneath their ridged helmets, heads turning at his taunts, hands tightening on pike or sword hilt.Baudin, laughing Baudin, his nose smashed by a well-flung brick, stones bouncing from him, his slave tunic in rags and soaked with blood and spit. Every body that darted within his reach he grasped, twisted, bent and broke. The only pause in his stride came when something happened ahead, some breach in the soldiery or when Lady Gaesen faltered. He'd grasp her arms under the shoulders, none too gently, then propel her forward, swearing all the while.A wave of fear swept ahead of him, a touch of the terror inflicted turning back on the mob. The number of attackers diminished, although the bricks flew in a constant barrage, some hitting, most missing.The march through the city continued. Felisin's ears rang painfully. She heard everything through a daze of sound, but her eyes saw clearly, seeking and finding all too often images she would never forget.The gates were in sight when the most savage breach occurred. The soldiers seemed to melt away, and the tide of fierce hunger swept into the street, engulfing the prisoners.Felisin caught Heboric's grunting words close behind her as he shoved hard: 'This is the one, then.'Baudin roared. Bodies crowded in, hands tearing, nails clawing. Felisin's last shreds of clothing were torn away. A hand closed on a fistful of her hair, yanked savagely, twisting her head around, seeking the crack of vertebrae. She heard screaming and realized it came from her own throat. A b.e.s.t.i.a.l snarl sounded behind her and she felt the hand clench spasmodically, then it was gone. More screaming filled her ears.A strong momentum caught them, pulling or pushing she couldn't tell and Heboric's face came into view, spitting b.l.o.o.d.y skin from his mouth. All at once a s.p.a.ce cleared around Baudin. He crouched, a torrent of dock curses bellowing from his mashed lips. His right ear had been torn off, taking with it hair, skin and flesh. The bone of his temple glistened wetly. Broken bodies lay around him, few moving. At his feet was Lady Gaesen. Baudin held her by the hair, pulling her face into view. The moment seemed to freeze, the world closing in to this single place.Baudin bared his teeth and laughed. 'I'm no whimpering n.o.ble,' he growled, facing the crowd. 'What do want? You want the blood of a n.o.blewoman?'The mob screamed, reaching out eager hands. Baudin laughed again. 'We pa.s.s through, you hear me?' He straightened, dragging Lady Gaesen's head upward.Felisin couldn't tell if the old woman was conscious. Her eyes were closed, the expression peaceful almost youthful beneath the smeared dirt and bruises. Perhaps she was dead. Felisin prayed that it was so. Something was about to happen, something to condense this nightmare into a single image. Tension held the air.'She's yours!' Baudin screamed. With his other hand grasping the Lady's chin, he twisted her head around. The neck snapped and the body sagged, twitching. Baudin wrapped a length of chain around her neck. He pulled it taut, then began sawing. Blood showed, making the chain look like a mangled scarf.Felisin stared in horror.'Fener have mercy,' Heboric breathed.The crowd was stunned silent, withdrawing even in their bloodl.u.s.t, shrinking back. A soldier appeared, helmetless, his young face white, his eyes fixed on Baudin, his steps ceasing. Beyond him the glistening peaked helms and broad blades of the Red Swords flashed above the crowd as the hors.e.m.e.n slowly pushed their way towards the scene.No movement save the sawing chain. No breath save Baudin's grunting snorts. Whatever riot continued to rage beyond this place, it seemed a thousand leagues away.Felisin watched the woman's head jerk back and forth, a mockery of life's animation. She remembered Lady Gaesen, haughty, imperious, beyond her years of beauty and seeking stature in its stead. What other choice? Many, but it didn't matter now. Had she been a gentle, kindly grandmother, it would not have mattered, would not have changed the mind-numbing horror of this moment.The head came away with a sobbing sound. Baudin's teeth glimmered as he stared at the crowd. 'We had a deal,' he grated. 'Here's what you want, something to remember this day by.' He flung Lady Gaesen's head into the mob, a whirl of hair and threads of blood. Screams answered its unseen landing.More soldiers appeared backed by the Red Swords moving slowly, pushing at the still-silent onlookers. Peace was being restored, all along the line in all places but this one violently, without quarter. As people began to die under sword strokes, the rest fled.The prisoners who had filed out of the arena had numbered around three hundred. Felisin, looking up the line, had her first sight of what remained. Some shackles held only forearms, others were completely empty. Under a hundred prisoners remained on their feet. Many on the paving stones writhed, screaming in pain; the rest did not move at all.Baudin glared at the nearest knot of soldiers. 'Likely timing, tin-heads.'Heboric spat heavily, his face twisting as he glared at the thug. 'Imagined you'd buy your way out, did you, Baudin? Give them what they want. But it was wasted, wasn't it? The soldiers were coming. She could have lived-'Baudin slowly turned, his face a sheet of blood. 'To what end, priest?''Was that your line of reasoning? She would've died in the hold anyway?'Baudin showed his teeth and said slowly, 'I just hate making deals with b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.'Felisin stared at the three-foot length of chain between herself and Baudin. A thousand thoughts could have followed, link by link what she had been, what she was now; the prison she'd discovered, inside and out, merged as vivid memory but all she thought, all she said, was this: 'Don't make any more deals, Baudin.'His eyes narrowed on her, her words and tone reaching him, somehow, some way.Heboric straightened, a hard look in his eyes as he studied her. Felisin turned away, half in defiance, half in shame.A moment later the soldiers having cleared the line of the dead pushed them along, out through the gate, onto the East Road towards the pier town called Luckless. Where Adjunct Tavore and her retinue waited, as did the slave ships of Aren.Farmers and peasants lined the road, displaying nothing of the frenzy that had gripped their cousins in the city. Felisin saw in their faces a dull sorrow, a pa.s.sion born of different scars. She could not understand where it came from, and she knew that her ignorance was the difference between her and them. She also knew, in her bruises, scratches and helpless nakedness, that her lessons had begun.

BOOK ONE

RARAKU

He swam at my feet, Powerful arms in broad strokes Sweeping the sand.

So I asked this man, What seas do you swim?

And to this he answered, 'I have seen sh.e.l.ls and the like On this desert floor, So I swim this land's memory Thus honouring its past,'

Is the journey far, queried I.

'I cannot say,' he replied, 'For I shall drown long before I am done.'Sayings of the Fool Thenys Bule

CHAPTER ONE

And all came to imprint.

Their pa.s.sage On the path, To scent the dry winds Their cloying claim To ascendancyThe Path of Hands Messremb 1164th Year of Burn's Sleep Tenth Year of the Rule of Empress Laseen The Sixth in the Seven Years of Dryjhna, the ApocalypticA corkscrew plume of dust raced across the basin, heading deeper into the trackless desert of the Pan'potsun Odhan. Though less than two thousand paces away, it seemed a plume born of nothing.From his perch on the mesa's wind-scarred edge, Mappo Runt followed it with relentless eyes the colour of sand, eyes set deep in a robustly boned, pallid face. He held a wedge of emrag cactus in his bristle-backed hand, unmindful of the envenomed spikes as he bit into it. Juices dribbled down his chin, staining it blue. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully.Beside him Icarium flicked a pebble over the cliff edge. It clicked and clattered on its way down to the boulder-strewn base. Under the ragged Spiritwalker robe its orange faded to dusty rust beneath the endless sun his grey skin had darkened into olive green, as if his father's blood had answered this wasteland's ancient call. His long, braided black hair dripped black sweat onto the bleached rock.Mappo pulled a mangled thorn from between his front teeth. 'Your dye's running,' he observed, eyeing the cactus blade a moment before taking another bite.Icarium shrugged. 'Doesn't matter any more. Not out here.''My blind grandmother wouldn't have swallowed your disguise. There were narrow eyes on us in Ehrlitan. I felt them crawling on my back day and night. Tannos are mostly short and bow-legged, after all.' Mappo pulled his gaze away from the dust cloud and studied his friend. 'Next time,' he grunted, 'try belonging to a tribe where everyone's seven foot tall.'Icarium's lined, weather-worn face twitched into something like a smile, just a hint, before resuming its placid expression. 'Those who would know of us in Seven Cities, surely know of us now. Those who would not might wonder at us, but that is all they will do.' Squinting against the glare, he nodded at the plume. 'What do you see, Mappo?''Rat head, long neck, black and hairy all over. If just that, I might be describing one of my uncles.''But there's more.''One leg up front and two in back.'Icarium tapped the bridge of his nose, thinking. 'So, not one of your uncles. An aptorian?'Mappo slowly nodded. 'The convergence is months away. I'd guess Shadowthrone caught a whiff of what's coming, sent out a few scouts ...''And this one?'Mappo grinned, exposing ma.s.sive canines. 'A tad too far afield. Sha'ik's pet now.' He finished off the cactus, wiped his spatulate hands, then rose from his crouch. Arching his back, he winced. There had been, unaccountably, a ma.s.s of roots beneath the sand under his bedroll the night just past, and now the muscles to either side of his spine matched every knot and twist of those treeless bones. He rubbed at his eyes. A quick scan down the length of his body displayed for him the tattered, dirt-crusted state of his clothes. He sighed. 'It's said there's a waterhole out there, somewhere-''With Sha'ik's army camped around it.'Mappo grunted.Icarium also straightened, noting once again the sheer ma.s.s of his companion big even for a Trell the shoulders broad and maned in black hair, the sinewy muscles of his long arms, and the thousand years that capered like a gleeful goat behind Mappo's eyes. 'Can you track it?''If you like.'Icarium grimaced. 'How long have we known each other, friend?'Mappo's glance was sharp, then he shrugged. 'Long. Why do you ask?''I know reluctance when I hear it. The prospect disturbs you?''Any potential brush with demons disturbs me, Icarium. Shy as a hare is Mappo Trell.''I am driven by curiosity.''I know.'The unlikely pair turned back to their small campsite, tucked between two towering spires of wind-sculpted rock. There was no hurry. Icarium sat down on a flat rock and proceeded to oil his longbow, striving to keep the hornwood from drying out. Once satisfied with the weapon's condition, he turned to his single-edged long sword, sliding the ancient weapon from its bronze-banded boiled-leather scabbard, then setting an oiled whetstone to its notched edge.Mappo struck the hide tent, folding it haphazardly before stuffing it into his large leather bag. Cooking utensils followed, as did the bedding. He tied the drawstrings and hefted the bag over one shoulder, then glanced to where Icarium waited bow rewrapped and slung across his back.Icarium nodded, and the two of them, half-blood Jaghut and full-blooded Trell, began on the path leading down into the basin.

Overhead the stars hung radiant, casting enough light down onto the basin to tinge its cracked pan silver. The bloodflies had pa.s.sed with the vanishing of the day's heat, leaving the night to the occasional swarm of capemoths and the batlike rhizan lizards that fed on them.Mappo and Icarium paused for a rest in the courtyard of some ruins. The mudbrick walls had all but eroded away, leaving nothing but shin-high ridges laid out in a geometric pattern around an old, dried-up well. The sand covering the courtyard's tiles was fine and windblown and seemed to glow faintly to Mappo's eyes. Twisted brush clung with fisted roots along its edges.The Pan'potsun Odhan and the Holy Desert Raraku that flanked it to the west were both home to countless such remnants from long-dead civilizations. In their travels Mappo and Icarium had found high tels flat-topped hills built up of layer upon layer of city situated in a rough procession over a distance of fifty leagues between the hills and the desert, clear evidence that a rich and thriving people had once lived in what was now dry, wind-blasted wasteland. From the Holy Desert had emerged the legend of Dryjhna the Apocalyptic. Mappo wondered if the calamity that had befallen the city-dwellers in this region had in some way contributed to the myth of a time of devastation and death. Apart from the occasional abandoned estate such as the one they now rested in, many ruins showed signs of a violent end.His thoughts finding familiar ruts, Mappo grimaced. Not all pasts can be laid at our feet, and we are no closer here and now than we've ever been. Nor have I any reason to disbelieve my own words. Not all pasts can be laid at our feet, and we are no closer here and now than we've ever been. Nor have I any reason to disbelieve my own words. He turned away from those thoughts as well. He turned away from those thoughts as well.Near the courtyard's centre stood a single column of pink marble, pitted and grooved on one side where the winds born out in Raraku blew unceasingly towards the Pan'potsun Hills. The pillar's opposite side still retained the spiral patterning carved there by long-dead artisans.Upon entering the courtyard Icarium had walked directly to the six-foot-high column, examining its sides. His grunt told Mappo he'd found what he had been looking for.'And this one?' the Trell asked, setting his leather sack down.Icarium came over, wiping dust from his hands. 'Down near the base, a scattering of tiny clawed hands the seekers are on the Trail.''Rats? More than one set?''D'ivers,' Icarium agreed, nodding.'Now who might that be, I wonder?''Probably Gryllen.''Mhm, unpleasant.'Icarium studied the flat plain stretching into the west. 'There will be others. Soletaken and D'ivers both. Those who feel near to Ascendancy, and those who are not, yet seek the Path nonetheless.'Mappo sighed, studying his old friend. Faint dread stirred within him. D'ivers and Soletaken, the twin curses of shapeshifting, the fever for which there is no cure. Gathering. . .here, in this place. D'ivers and Soletaken, the twin curses of shapeshifting, the fever for which there is no cure. Gathering. . .here, in this place. 'Is this wise, Icarium?' he asked softly. 'In seeking your eternal goal, we find ourselves walking into a most disagreeable convergence. Should the gates open, we shall find our pa.s.sage contested by a host of blood-thirsty individuals all eager in their belief that the gates offer Ascendancy.' 'Is this wise, Icarium?' he asked softly. 'In seeking your eternal goal, we find ourselves walking into a most disagreeable convergence. Should the gates open, we shall find our pa.s.sage contested by a host of blood-thirsty individuals all eager in their belief that the gates offer Ascendancy.''If such a pathway exists,' Icarium said, his eyes still on the horizon, 'then perhaps I shall find my answers there as well.'Answers are no benediction, friend. Trust me in this. Please. 'You have still not explained to me what you will do once you have found them.' 'You have still not explained to me what you will do once you have found them.'Icarium turned to him with a faint smile. 'I am my own curse, Mappo. I have lived centuries, yet what do I know of my own past? Where are my memories? How can I judge my own life without such knowledge?''Some would consider your curse a gift,' Mappo said, a flicker of sadness pa.s.sing across his features.'I do not. I view this convergence as an opportunity. It might well provide me with answers. To achieve them, I hope to avoid drawing my weapons, but I shall if I must.'The Trell sighed a second time and rose from his crouch. 'You may be tested in that resolve soon, friend.' He faced southwest. 'There are six desert wolves on our trail.'Icarium unwrapped his antlered bow and strung it in a swift, fluid motion. 'Desert wolves never hunt people.''No,' Mappo agreed. It was another hour before the moon would rise. He watched Icarium lay out six long, stone-tipped arrows, then squinted out into the darkness. Cold fear crept along the nape of his neck. The wolves were not yet visible, but he felt them all the same. 'They are six, but they are one. D'ivers.' Better it would have been a Soletaken. Veering into a single beast is unpleasant enough, but into many . . . Better it would have been a Soletaken. Veering into a single beast is unpleasant enough, but into many . . .Icarium frowned. 'One of power, then, to achieve the shape of six wolves. Do you know who it might be?''I have a suspicion,' Mappo said quietly.They fell silent, waiting.Half a dozen tawny shapes appeared out of a gloom that seemed of its own making, less than thirty strides away. At twenty paces the wolves spread out into an open half-circle facing Mappo and Icarium. The spicy scent of D'ivers filled the still night air. One of the lithe beasts edged forward, then stopped as Icarium raised his bow.'Not six,' Icarium muttered, 'but one.''I know him,' Mappo said. 'A shame he can't say the same of us. He is uncertain, but he's taken a blood-spilling form. Tonight, Ryllandaras hunts in the desert. Does he hunt us or something else, I wonder?'Icarium shrugged. 'Who shall speak first, Mappo?''Me,' the Trell replied, taking a step forward. This would require guile and cunning. A mistake would prove deadly. He pitched his voice low and wry. 'Long way from home, aren't we. Your brother Treach had it in mind that he killed you. Where was that chasm? Dal Hon? Or was it Li Heng? You were D'ivers jackals then, I seem to recall.'Ryllandaras spoke inside their minds, a voice cracking and halting with disuse. I am tempted to match wits with you, N'Trell, before killing you. am tempted to match wits with you, N'Trell, before killing you.'Might not be worth it,' Mappo replied easily. 'With the company I've been keeping, I'm as out of practice as you, Ryllandaras.'The lead wolf's bright blue eyes flicked to Icarium.'I have little wits to match,' the Jaghut half-blood said softly, his voice barely carrying. 'And I am losing patience.'Foolish. Charm is all that can save you. Tell me, bowman, do you surrender your life to your companion's wiles?Icarium shook his head. 'Of course not. I share his opinion of himself.'Ryllandaras seemed confused. A matter of expedience then, the two of you travelling together. Companions matter of expedience then, the two of you travelling together. Companions without trust, without trust, without confidence in each other. The stakes must be high. without confidence in each other. The stakes must be high.'I am getting bored, Mappo,' Icarium said.The six wolves stiffened as one, half flinching. Mappo Runt and Icarium. Ah, we see. Know that we've no quarrel with you. Mappo Runt and Icarium. Ah, we see. Know that we've no quarrel with you.'Wits matched,' Mappo said, his grin broadening a moment before disappearing entirely. 'Hunt elsewhere, Ryllandaras, before Icarium does Treach a favour.' Before you unleash all that I am sworn to prevent. Before you unleash all that I am sworn to prevent. 'Am I understood?' 'Am I understood?'Our trail . . . converges, the D'ivers said, upon the D'ivers said, upon the spoor of a demon of Shadow. the spoor of a demon of Shadow.'Not Shadow any longer,' Mappo replied. 'Sha'ik's. The Holy Desert no longer sleeps.'So it seems. Do you forbid us our hunt?Mappo glanced at Icarium, who lowered his bow and shrugged. 'If you wish to lock jaws with an aptorian, that is your choice. Our interest was only pa.s.sing.'Then indeed shall our jaws close upon the throat of the demon.'You would make Sha'ik your enemy?' Mappo asked.The lead wolf c.o.c.ked its head. The name means nothing to me. The name means nothing to me.The two travellers watched as the wolves padded off, vanishing once again into a gloom of sorcery. Mappo showed his teeth, then sighed, and Icarium nodded, giving voice to their shared thought. 'It will, soon.'

The Wickan horsesoldiers loosed fierce cries of exultation as they led their broad-backed horses down the transport's gangplanks. The scene at the quayside of Hissar's Imperial Harbour was chaotic, a ma.s.s of unruly tribesmen and women, the flash of iron-headed lances rippling over black braided hair and spiked skullcaps. From his position on the harbour-entrance tower parapet, Duiker looked down on the wild outland company with more than a little scepticism, and with growing trepidation.Beside the Imperial Historian stood the High Fist's representative, Mallick Rel, his fat, soft hands folded together and resting on his paunch, his skin the colour of oiled leather and smelling of Aren perfumes. Mallick Rel looked nothing like the chief adviser to the Seven Cities' commander of the Malazan armies. A Jhistal priest of the Elder G.o.d of the seas, Mael, his presence here to officially convey the High Fist's welcome to the new Fist of the 7th Army was precisely what it appeared to be: a calculated insult. Although, Duiker amended silently, the man at his side had, in a very short time, risen to a position of power among the Imperial players on this continent. A thousand rumours rode the tongues of the soldiers about the smooth, soft-spoken priest and whatever weapon he held over High Fist Pormqual each and every rumour no louder than a whisper, for Mallick Rel's path to Pormqual's side was a tale of mysterious misfortune befalling everyone who stood in his way, and fatal misfortune at that.The political mire among the Malazan occupiers in Seven Cities was as obscure as it was potentially deadly. Duiker suspected that the new Fist would understand little of veiled gestures of contempt, lacking as he did the more civilized nuances of the Empire's tamed citizens. The question that remained for the historian, then, was how long Coltaine of the Crow Clan would survive his new appointment.Mallick Rel pursed his full lips and slowly exhaled. 'Historian,' he said softly, his Gedorian Falari accent faint in its sibilant roll. 'Pleased by your presence. Curious as well. Long from Aren court, now ...' He smiled, not showing his greendyed teeth. 'Caution bred of distant culling?'Words like the lap of waves, the G.o.d Mael's formless affectation and insidious patience. This, my fourth conversation with Rel. Oh, how I dislike this creature! Duiker cleared his throat. 'The Empress takes little heed of me, Jhistal...' Duiker cleared his throat. 'The Empress takes little heed of me, Jhistal...'Mallick Rel's soft laugh was like the rattle of a snake's tail. 'Unheeded historian or unheeding of history? Hint of bitterness at advice rejected or worse, ignored. Be calmed, no crimes winging back from Unta's towers.''Pleased to hear it,' Duiker muttered, wondering at the priest's source. 'I remain in Hissar as a matter of research,' he explained after a moment. 'The precedent of shipping prisoners to the Otataral mines on the island reaches back to the Emperor's time, although he generally reserved that fate for mages.''Mages? Ah, ah.'Duiker nodded. 'Effective, yes, although unpredictable. The specific properties of Otataral as a magic-deadening ore remain largely mysterious. Even so, madness claimed most of those sorcerers, although it is not known if that was the result of exposure to the ore dust, or the deprivation from their Warrens.''Some mages among the next slave shipment?''Some.''Question soon answered, then.''Soon,' Duiker agreed.The T-shaped quay was now a maelstrom of belligerent Wickans, frightened dock porters and short-tempered warhorses. A cordon of Hissar Guard provided the stopper to the bottleneck at the dock's end where it opened out onto the cobbled half-round. Of Seven Cities blood, the Guards had hitched their round shields and unsheathed their tulwars, waving the broad, curving blades threateningly at the Wickans, who answered with barking challenges.Two men arrived on the parapet. Duiker nodded greetings. Mallick Rel did not deign to acknowledge either of them a rough captain and the 7th's lone surviving cadre mage, both men clearly ranked too low for any worthwhile cultivation by the priest.'Well, Kulp,' Duiker said to the squat, white-haired wizard, 'your arrival may prove timely.'Kulp's narrow, sunburned face twisted into a sour scowl. 'Came up here to keep my bones and flesh intact, Duiker. I'm not interested in becoming Coltaine's lumpy carpet in his step up to the post. They're his his people, after all. That he hasn't done a d.a.m.ned thing to quell this brewing riot doesn't bode well, I'd say.' people, after all. That he hasn't done a d.a.m.ned thing to quell this brewing riot doesn't bode well, I'd say.'The captain at his side grunted agreement. 'Sticks in the throat,' he growled. 'Half the officers here saw their first blood facing that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Coltaine, and now here he is, about to take command. Hood's knuckles,' he spat, 'won't be any tears spilled if the Hissar Guard cuts down Coltaine and every one of his Wickan savages right here at the Quay. The Seventh don't need them.''Truth,' Mallick Rel said to Duiker with veiled eyes, 'behind the threat of uprisings. Continent here a viper nest. Coltaine an odd choice-''Not so odd,' Duiker said, shrugging. He returned his attention to the scene below. The Wickans closest to the Hissar Guard had begun strutting back and forth in front of the armoured line. The situation was but moments away from a full-scale battle the bottleneck was about to become a killing ground. The historian felt something cold clutch his stomach at seeing horn bows now strung among the Wickan soldiers. Another company of guards appeared from the avenue to the right of the main colonnade, bristling with pikes.'Can you explain that?' Kulp asked.Duiker turned and was surprised to see all three men staring at him. He thought back to his last comment, then shrugged again. 'Coltaine united the Wickan clans in an uprising against the Empire. The Emperor had a hard time bringing him to heel as some of you know first-hand. True to the Emperor's style, he acquired Coltaine's loyalty-''How?' Kulp barked.'No one knows.' Duiker smiled. 'The Emperor rarely explained his successes. In any case, since Empress Laseen held no affection for her predecessor's chosen commanders, Coltaine was left to rot in some backwater on Quon Tali. Then the situation changed. Adjunct Lorn is killed in Darujhistan, High Fist Dujek and his army turn renegade, effectively surrendering the entire Genabackan Campaign, and the Year of Dryjhna approaches here in Seven Cities, prophesied as the year of rebellion. Laseen needs able commanders before it all slips from her grasp. The new Adjunct Tavore is untested. So.. .''Coltaine,' the captain nodded, his scowl deepening. 'Sent here to take command of the Seventh and put down the rebellion-''After all,' Duiker said dryly, 'who better to deal with insurrection than a warrior who led one himself?''If mutiny occurs, scant his chances,' Mallick Rel said, his eyes on the scene below.Duiker saw half a dozen tulwars flash, watched the Wickans recoil and then unsheathe their own long-knives. They seemed to have found a leader, a tall, fierce-looking warrior with fetishes in his long braids, who now bellowed encouragement, waving his own weapon over his head. 'Hood!' the historian swore. 'Where on earth is Coltaine?'The captain laughed. 'The tall one with the lone long-knife.'Duiker's eyes widened. That madman is Coltaine? The That madman is Coltaine? The Seventh's Seventh's new Fist? new Fist?'Ain't changed at all, I see,' the captain continued. 'If you're going to keep your head as leader of all the clans, you'd better be nastier than all the rest put together. Why'd you think the old Emperor liked him so much?''Beru fend,' Duiker whispered, appalled.In the next breath an ululating scream from Coltaine brought sudden silence from the Wickan company. Weapons slid back into their sheaths, bows were lowered, arrows returned to their quivers. Even the bucking, snapping horses fell still, heads raised and ears p.r.i.c.ked. A s.p.a.ce cleared around Coltaine, who had turned his back on the guards. The tall warrior gestured and the four men on the parapet watched in silence as with absolute precision every horse was saddled. Less than a minute later the horsesoldiers were mounted, guiding their horses into a close parade formation that would rival the Imperial elites.'That,' Duiker said, 'was superbly done.'A soft sigh escaped Mallick Rel. 'Savage timing, a beast's sense of challenge, then contempt. Statement for the guards. For us as well?''Coltaine's a snake,' the captain said, 'if that's what you're asking. If the High Command at Aren thinks they can dance around him, they're in for a nasty surprise.''Generous advice,' Rel acknowledged.The captain looked as if he'd just swallowed something sharp, and Duiker realized that the man had spoken without thought as to the priest's place in the High Command.Kulp cleared his throat. 'He's got them in troop formation guess the ride to the barracks will be peaceful after all.''I admit,' Duiker said wryly, 'that I look forward to meeting the Seventh's new Fist.'His heavy-lidded eyes on the scene below, Rel nodded. 'Agreed.'

Leaving behind the Skara Isles on a heading due south, the fisherboat set out into the Kansu Sea, its triangular sail creaking and straining. If the gale held, they would reach the Ehrlitan coast in four hours. Fiddler's scowl deepened. The Ehrlitan coast, Seven Cities. I hate this d.a.m.ned continent. Hated it the first time, hate it even more now. The Ehrlitan coast, Seven Cities. I hate this d.a.m.ned continent. Hated it the first time, hate it even more now. He leaned over the gunnel and spat acrid bile into the warm, green waves. He leaned over the gunnel and spat acrid bile into the warm, green waves.'Feeling any better?' Crokus asked from the prow, his tanned young face creased with genuine concern.The old saboteur wanted to punch that face; instead he just growled and hunched down deeper against the barque's hull.Kalam's laugh rumbled from where he sat at the tiller. 'Fiddler and water don't mix, lad. Look at him, he's greener than that d.a.m.ned winged monkey of yours.'A sympathetic snuffling sound breathed against Fiddler's cheek. He pried open one bloodshot eye to find a tiny, wizened face staring at him. 'Go away, Moby,' Fiddler croaked. The familiar, once servant to Crokus's uncle Mammot, seemed to have adopted the sapper, the way stray dogs and cats often did. Kalam would say it was the other way around, of course. 'A lie,' Fiddler whispered. 'Kalam's good at those-' like lounging around in Rutu Jelba for a whole d.a.m.n week on the off-chance that a Skrae trader would come in. 'Book pa.s.sage in comfort, eh, Fid?' Not like the d.a.m.ned ocean crossing, oh no like lounging around in Rutu Jelba for a whole d.a.m.n week on the off-chance that a Skrae trader would come in. 'Book pa.s.sage in comfort, eh, Fid?' Not like the d.a.m.ned ocean crossing, oh no and that one was supposed to have been in comfort, too. A whole week in Rutu Jelba, a lizard' infested, orange-bricked cesspool of a city, then what? Eight jakatas for this rag-stoppered sawed-in-half ale casket. and that one was supposed to have been in comfort, too. A whole week in Rutu Jelba, a lizard' infested, orange-bricked cesspool of a city, then what? Eight jakatas for this rag-stoppered sawed-in-half ale casket.The steady rise and fall lulled Fiddler as the hours pa.s.sed. His mind drifted back to the appallingly long journey that had brought them thus far, then to the appallingly long journey that lay ahead. We never do things the easy way, do we? We never do things the easy way, do we?He would rather that every sea dried up. Men got feet, not flippers. Even so, we're about to cross overland feet, not flippers. Even so, we're about to cross overland over a fly- infested, waterless waste, where people smile only to announce they're about to kill you. over a fly- infested, waterless waste, where people smile only to announce they're about to kill you.The day dragged on, green-tinged and shaky.He thought back to the companions he'd left behind on Genabackis, wishing he could be marching alongside them. Into a religious war. Don't forget that, Fid. Religious wars are no fun. a religious war. Don't forget that, Fid. Religious wars are no fun. The faculty of reasoning that permitted surrender did not apply in such instances. Still, the squad was all he'd known for years. He felt bereft out of its shadows. Just The faculty of reasoning that permitted surrender did not apply in such instances. Still, the squad was all he'd known for years. He felt bereft out of its shadows. Just Kalam for old company, and he ca