The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (288 page)

Another Bonecaster stepped forward, then. The rotted fur of a large brown bear rode his shoulders and it seemed the beast itself had reared behind the shadowed eyes. ‘I am Okral Lorn,’ he said in a voice like distant thunder. ‘All the Bonecasters of Kron T’lan Imass now stand before you. Agkor Choom. Bendal Home, Ranag Ilm, and Brold Chood. Kron, as well, who was chosen as War Leader at the First Gathering. Unlike Pran Chole, we care nothing for your anger. We played no role in your creation, in your birth. None the less, you cling to a misapprehension, Summoner. Pran Chole can in no way be considered your father. He stands here, accepting the burden of your rage, for he is what he is. If you would call anyone your father, if you so require a face upon which hatred can focus, then you must forbear, for the one you seek is not among us.’

The blood had slowly drained from Silverfox’s face, as if she’d not been prepared for such brutal condemnation flung back at her by this Bonecaster. ‘N-not among you?’

‘Your souls were forged in the Warren of Tellann, yet not in the distant past – the past in which Pran Chole lived – not at first, at any rate. Summoner, the unveiled warren of which I speak belonged to the First Sword, Onos T’oolan. Now clanless, he walks alone, and that solitude has twisted his power of Tellann—’

‘Twisted? How?’

‘By what he seeks, by what lies at the heart of his desires.’

Silverfox was shaking her head, as if striving to deny all that Okral Lom said. ‘And what does he seek?’

The Bonecaster shrugged. ‘Summoner, you will discover that soon enough, for Onos T’oolan has heard your call to the Second Gathering. He will, alas, be rather late.’

Kruppe watched as Silverfox slowly returned her gaze to Pran Chole, whose head was bowed once more.

In assuming the responsibility for her creation, this Bonecaster offered her a gift – a focus for her anger, a victim to stand before its unleashing. I do remember you, Pran Chole, there in my dream-world. Your face, the compassion in your eyes. Would I the courage to ask: were you Imass once, in truth, all like this?

Another pair was emerging from the ranks. In the silence that followed Okral Lom’s words, the foremost one spoke. ‘I am Ay Estos, of Logros T’lan Imass.’ The furs of arctic wolves hung from the Bonecaster, who was taller, leaner than the others.

Silverfox’s reply was almost distracted. ‘I greet you, Ay Estos. You are given leave to speak.’

The T’lan Imass bowed in acknowledgement, then said, ‘Logros could but send two Bonecasters to this Gathering, for the reason I would now tell you.’ He paused, then, as Silverfox made no reply to that, he continued. ‘Logros T’lan Imass hunts renegades – our own kin, who have broken from the Vow. Crimes have been committed, Summoner, which must be answered. I have come, then, on behalf of the clans of Logros.’

Silverfox shook herself, visibly wrenching her gaze from Pran Chole. She drew a deep breath, straightened. ‘You said,’ she said tonelessly, ‘that another Bonecaster of Logros is present.’

The wolf-clad T’lan Imass stepped to one side. The figure standing behind him was hugely boned, the skull beneath the thin, withered flesh bestial. She wore a scaled, leathery cloak of skin that hung down to the ground behind her. Unadorned by a helm, the broad, flat skull revealed only a few remaining patches of skin that each bore but a few strands of long, white hair.

‘Olar Ethil,’ Ay Estos said. ‘First among the Bonecasters. Eleint, the First Soletaken. She has not journeyed with me, for Logros set for her another task, which has taken her far from the clans. Until this day, we among the Logros had not seen Olar Ethil in many years. Eleint, will you speak of success or failure in what you have sought?’

The First Bonecaster tilted her head, then addressed Silverfox. ‘Summoner. As I neared this place, you commanded my dreams.’

‘I did, though I knew not who you were. We can discuss that another time. Tell me of this task set for you by Logros.’

‘Logros sent me in search of the remaining T’lan Imass armies, such as we knew from the First Gathering. The Ifayle, the Kerluhm, the Bentract and the Orshan.’

‘And did you find them?’ she asked.

‘The four remaining clans of Bentract T’lan Imass are on Jacuruku, I believe, yet trapped within the Warren of Chaos. I searched there, Summoner, without success. Of the Orshan, the Ifayle and Kerluhm, I report my failure in discovering any sign. It follows that we must conclude they no longer exist.’

Silverfox was clearly shaken by Olar Ethil’s words. ‘So many…’ she whispered, ‘lost?’ A moment later Kruppe saw her steel herself. ‘Olar Ethil, what inspired Logros to despatch you to find the remaining armies?’

‘Summoner, the First Throne found a worthy occupant. Logros was commanded so by the occupant.’

‘An occupant? Who?’

‘A mortal known then as Kellanved, Emperor of Malaz.’

Silverfox said nothing for a long moment, then, ‘Of course. But he no longer occupies it, does he?’

‘He no longer occupies it, Summoner, yet he has not yielded it.’

‘What does that mean? Ah, because the Emperor didn’t die, did he?’

Olar Ethil nodded. ‘Kellanved did not die. He ascended, and has taken the Throne of Shadow. Had he died in truth, the First Throne would be unoccupied once more. He has not, so it is not. We are at an impasse.’

‘And when this … event … occurred – the result was your ceasing to serve the Malazan Empire, leaving Laseen to manage on her own for the first, crucial years of her rule.’

‘They were uncertain times, Summoner. Logros T’lan Imass was divided unto itself. The discovery of surviving Jaghut in the Jhag Odhan proved a timely, if short-lived, distraction. Clans among us have since returned to the Malazan Empire’s service.’

‘And was the schism responsible for the renegades the rest now pursue?’

Ah, her mind returns, sharply honed. This is fell information indeed. Renegades among the T’lan Imass …

‘No, Summoner. The renegades have found another path, which as yet remains hidden from us. They have, on occasion, employed the Warren of Chaos in their flight.’

Chaos? I wonder, to whom do these renegade T’lan Imass now kneel? No, muse on it not. Still a distant threat, Kruppe suspects. All in its own time …

Silverfox asked, ‘What Soletaken shape do you assume, Olar Ethil?’

‘When I veer, I am as an undead twin to Tiam, who spawned all dragons.’

Nothing more was added. The thousands of T’lan Imass stood motionless, silent. A score of heartbeats passed in Kruppe’s chest Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped closer to Silverfox. ‘It appears, lass, that they await your command – whatever command that might be. A reasonable resolu—’

Silverfox swung to face him. ‘Please,’ she grated. ‘No advice. This is my Gathering, Kruppe. Leave me to it.’

‘Of course, my dear. Humblest apologies. Please do resume your hesitation.’

She made a sour face. ‘Impudent bastard.’

Kruppe smiled.

Silverfox turned back to the awaiting T’lan Imass. ‘Pran Chole, please forgive my earlier words.’

He raised his head. ‘Summoner, it is I who must ask for forgiveness.’

‘No. Okral Lom was right in condemning my anger. I feel as if I have awaited this meeting for a thousand lifetimes – the expectation, the pressure…’

Kruppe cleared his throat. ‘A thousand lifetimes, Silverfox? Scry more closely those who stand before you—’

‘Thank you, that’s enough, Kruppe. Believe me, I am quite capable of castigating myself without any help from you.’

‘Of course,’ the Daru murmured.

Silverfox settled her gaze on Pran Chole once more. ‘I would ask of you and your kin a question.’

‘We await, Summoner.’

‘Are there any Jaghut left?’

‘Of pure blood, we know of but one who remains in this realm. One, who hides not in the service of a god, or in service to the Houses of the Azath.’

‘And he will be found at the heart of the Pannion Domin, won’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Commanding K’Chain Che’Malle undead. How can that be?’

Kruppe noted the hesitation in Pran Chole as the Bonecaster replied. ‘We do not know, Summoner.’

‘And when he is destroyed, Pran Chole, what then?’

The Bonecaster seemed taken aback by the question. ‘Summoner, this is your Gathering. You are flesh and blood – our flesh and blood, reborn. When the last Jaghut is slain—’

‘A moment, if you please!’ Kruppe said, edging another step forward. Silverfox hissed in exasperation but the Daru continued. ‘Pran Chole, do you recall worthy Kruppe?’

‘I do.’

‘Worthy, clever Kruppe, yes? You said
you know of but one
Jaghut. No doubt accurate enough. None the less, saying such is not quite the same as saying there is but one left, is it? Thus, you are not certain, are you?’

Olar Ethil replied. ‘Mortal, other Jaghut remain. Isolated. Hidden – they have learned to hide very well indeed. We believe they exist, but we cannot find them.’

‘Yet you seek an official end to the war, do you not?’

A susurration of motion rippled through the undead ranks.

Silverfox wheeled on him. ‘How did you know, damn you?’

Kruppe shrugged. ‘Sorrow unsurpassed and unsurpassing. They in truth seek to become dust. Had they eyes, Kruppe would see the truth no plainer writ. The T’lan Imass wish oblivion.’

‘Which I would only grant if all the Jaghut on this world had ceased to exist,’ Silverfox said. ‘For that is the burden laid upon me. My
intended
purpose. The threat of tyranny removed, finally, once and for all time. Only then could I grant the T’lan Imass the oblivion they seek – so the Ritual demands of me, for that is a linkage that cannot be broken.’

‘You must make the pronouncement, Summoner,’ Okral Lorn said.

‘Yes,’ she replied, still glaring at Kruppe.

‘Your words,’ Pran Chole added, ‘can shatter the Ritual’s bindings.’

Her head snapped round. ‘So easily? Yet—’ She faced the Daru once more, and scowled. ‘Kruppe, you force into the open an unpleasant truth—’

‘Aye, Silverfox, but not the same truth as that which you seem to see. No, Kruppe has unveiled a deeper one, far more poignant.’

She crossed her arms. ‘And that is?’

Kruppe studied the sea of undead figures, narrowed his gaze on the shadowed sockets of countless eyes. After a long moment, he sighed, and it was a sigh ragged with emotion. ‘Ah, my dear, look again, please. It was a pathetic deceit, not worth condemnation. Understand, if you will, the very beginning. The First Gathering. There was but one enemy, then. One people, from whom tyrants emerged. But time passes, aye? And now, dominators and tyrants abound on all sides – yet are they Jaghut? They are not. They are human, for the most part, yes?

‘The truth in all its layers? Very well. Silverfox, the T’lan Imass have
won their war.
Should a new tyrant emerge from among the few hidden Jaghut, he or she will not find the world so simple to conquer as it once was. There are gods to oppose the effort; nay, there are mere ascendants! Men such as Anomander Rake, women such as Korlat – have you forgotten the fate of the last Jaghut Tyrant?

‘The time has passed, Silverfox. For the Jaghut, and thus, for the T’lan Imass.’ Kruppe rested a hand on her shoulder and looked up into her eyes. ‘Summoner,’ he whispered, ‘these indomitable warriors are …
weary.
Weary beyond all comprehension. They have existed for hundreds of thousands of years, for one sole cause. And that cause is now … a farce. Pointless. Irrelevant. They want it to end, Silverfox. They tried to arrange it with Kellanved and the First Throne, but the effort failed. Thus, they gave shape to you, to what you would become. For this one task.

‘Redeem them. Please.’

Pran Chole spoke, ‘Summoner, we shall destroy the Jaghut who hides within this Pannion Domin. And then, we would ask for an end. It is as Kruppe has said. We have no reason to exist, thus we exist without honour, and it is destroying us. The renegades Logros T’lan Imass hunts are but the first. We shall lose more of our kin, or so we fear.’

Kruppe saw that Silverfox was trembling, but her words were tightly controlled as she addressed the antlered shaman. ‘You create me as the first flesh and blood Bonecaster in almost three hundred thousand years. The first, and, it seems, the last.’

‘Do as we ask, Summoner, and the remainder of your life is yours.’

‘What life? I am neither Rhivi nor Malazan. I am not even truly human. It is what all of you do not grasp!’ She jabbed a finger at Kruppe and the two marines to complete an all-encompassing gesture. ‘None of you! Not even Paran, who thinks – no, what he thinks I will deal within my own time – it is not for any of you. T’lan Imass! I am your kin, damn you!
Your first child in three hundred thousand years! Am I to be abandoned again?’

Kruppe stepped back.
Again? Oh, gods below
—‘Silverfox—’

‘Silence!’

But there was no silence. Instead, a rustling and creaking whispered through the air, and Silverfox and Kruppe swung to the sound.

To see tens of thousands of T’lan Imass lowering themselves to their knees, heads bowing.

Olar Ethil was the last standing. She spoke. ‘Summoner, we beg you to release us.’ With those words, she too settled onto the ground.

The scene twisted a knife in Kruppe’s very soul. Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, he simply stared out at the broken multitude in growing horror. And when Silverfox gave answer, the Daru’s heart threatened to burst.

‘No.’

In the distance, on all sides, the undead wolves began to howl.

‘Hood’s breath!’ one of the marines swore.

Aye, theirs is a voice of such unearthly sorrow, it tears at the mortal mind. Oh, K’rul, what are we to do now?

*   *   *

‘One assumes a lack of complexity in people whose lives are so short.’

Whiskeyjack grinned sourly. ‘If that’s meant to be an apology, you’ll have to do better, Korlat.’

The Tiste Andii sighed, ran a hand through her long black hair in a very human gesture.

‘Then again,’ the Malazan continued, ‘from you, woman, even a grunt will do.’