The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (678 page)

‘So how does Kalam get from Herald Death to Obelisk? Let's see. Ah, King of High House Shadows! That shifty slime bung, oh, doesn't he look smug! Despite the sweat on his upper lip – who's gone all chilled in here? Hands up, please.'

Reluctantly…Kalam, T'amber, then Apsalar all lifted hands.

‘Well, that's ugly as ugly gets – you've got the bottles now, Apsalar, now that Bottle's corked. This one's for you, T'amber. Virgin of Death, as far as you go. You're out, so relax. Kalam's cold, but he don't get another card 'cause he don't need one and now I know who gets pushed and who gets pulled and I'll add the name to the dirge to come. Now for the hot bloods. Quick Ben gets the Consort in Chains but he's from Seven Cities and he just saved his sister's life so it's not as bad as it could've been. Anyway, that's it for you. And so, who does that leave?'

Silence for a moment. Keneb managed to lift his leaden head, frowning confusedly at the scatter of cards all over the table.

‘That would be me and you, Sergeant,' the Adjunct said in a low voice.

‘You cold?' Fiddler asked her, drinking down yet another cup of Rusty Gauntlet.

‘No.'

‘Hot?'

‘No.'

Fiddler nodded, slamming his empty cup down for Apsalar to refill with wine and rum. ‘Aye,' He floated a card down the length of the table. It landed atop the first card. ‘Master of the Deck. Ganoes Paran, Adjunct. Your brother. Even cold iron, Tavore Paran, needs tempering.' He lifted up another card and set it down before him. ‘Priest of Life, hah, now that's a good one. Game's done.'

‘Who wins?' the Adjunct, her face pale as candlewax, asked in a whisper.

‘Nobody,' Fiddler replied. ‘That's Life for you.' He suddenly rose, tottered, then staggered for the door.

‘Hold it!' Quick Ben demanded behind him. ‘There's this face-down card in front of me! You said it closes the game!'

‘It just did,' mumbled the sergeant as he struggled with the latch.

‘Do I turn it over, then?'

‘No.'

Fiddler stumbled out into the corridor and Keneb listened to the man's ragged footsteps receding towards the stairs leading to the deck. The Fist, shaking his head, pushed himself upright. He looked at the others.

No-one else had moved.

Then, with a snort, Apsalar rose and walked out. If she was as drunk as Keneb felt, she did not show any signs of it.

A moment later both Quick Ben and Kalam followed.

Under the table, Bottle was snoring.

The Adjunct and T'amber, Keneb slowly realized, were both looking at the unturned card. Then, with a hiss of frustration, Tavore reached out and flipped it over. After a moment, she half-rose and leaned forward on the table to read its title. ‘Knight of Shadow. I have never heard of such a card. T'amber, who, what did you—'

‘I didn't,' T'amber interrupted.

‘You didn't what?'

She looked up at the Adjunct. ‘Tavore, I have never seen that card before, and I certainly didn't paint it.'

Both women were silent again, both staring down at the strange card. Keneb struggled to focus on its murky image. ‘That's one of those Greyskins,' he said.

‘Tiste Edur,' T'amber murmured.

‘With a spear,' the Fist continued. ‘A Greyskin, like the ones we saw on those black ships…' Keneb leaned back, his head swimming. ‘I don't feel very well.'

‘Please stay for a moment, Fist. T'amber, what just happened here?'

The other woman shook her head. ‘I have never seen a field laid in such a manner. It was…chaotic – sorry, I did not mean that in an elemental sense. Like a rock bouncing down a gorge, ricocheting from this and that, yet, everywhere it struck, it struck true.'

‘Can you make sense of it?'

‘Not much. Not yet.' She hesitated, scanning the cards scattered all over the map-table. ‘Oponn's presence was…unexpected.'

‘The push or the pull,' Keneb said. ‘Someone's undecided about something, that's what Fiddler said. Who was it again?'

‘Kalam Mekhar,' the Adjunct replied. ‘But the Herald of Death intervenes—'

‘Not the Herald,' cut in T'amber, ‘but an inactive version, a detail I believe is crucial.'

Muted shouts from beyond announced the sighting of Malaz Harbour. The Adjunct faced Keneb. ‘Fist, these are your orders for this night. You are in command of the Fourteenth. No-one is to disembark, barring those I will dispatch on my own behalf. With the exception of the
Froth Wolf
all other ships are to remain in the harbour itself – all commands directing the fleet to tie up at a pier or jetty are to be ignored until I inform you otherwise.'

‘Adjunct, any such orders, if they reach me, will be from the Empress herself. I am to ignore those?'

‘You are to misunderstand, Fist. I leave the details of that misunderstanding to your imagination.'

‘Adjunct, where will you be?'

The woman studied him for a moment, then it seemed she reached a decision. ‘Fist Keneb, the Empress awaits me in Mock's Hold. I expect she will not wait until morning to issue her summons.' A flicker of emotion in her face. ‘The soldiers of the Fourteenth Army do not return as heroes, it would appear. I will not expose their lives to unnecessary risks. In particular I speak of the Wickans and the Khundryl Burned Tears. As for the Perish, the nature of their alliance depends upon my conversation with the Empress. Unless circumstances warrant a change, I assume their disposition rests with Laseen, but I must await her word on that. Ultimately, Fist, it is for Mortal Sword Krughava – do the Perish disembark and present to the Empress as they did with us, or, if events turn unfortunate, do they leave? My point is this, Keneb, they must be free to choose.'

‘And Admiral Nok's view on that?'

‘We are agreed.'

‘Adjunct,' said Keneb, ‘if the Empress decides to attempt to stay the Perish, we could end up with a battle in Malaz Harbour. Malazan against Malazan. This could start a damned civil war.'

Tavore frowned. ‘I do not anticipate anything so extreme, Fist.'

But Keneb persisted. ‘Forgive me, but I believe it is you who misunderstands. The Perish swore service to
you
, not the Empress.'

‘She will not listen to that,' T'amber said, with an unexpected tone of frustration in her voice, even as she walked to where Bottle slept. A kick elicted a grunt, then a cough. ‘Up, soldier,' T'amber said, seemingly unmindful of the glare the Adjunct had fixed upon her.

No you fool, Keneb, hardly unmindful.

‘You have your orders, Fist,' Tavore said.

‘Aye, Adjunct. Do you wish me to drag this marine here out with me?'

‘No. I must speak with Bottle in private. Go now, Keneb. And thank you for attending this night.'

I'm fairly certain I had no choice.
At the doorway he looked back once more at the cards. Lord of Wolves, Spinner of Death, Queens of Dark and Life, and the King in Chains.
Lord of Wolves…that has to be the Perish.

Gods below, I think it's begun.

 

On the harbour-facing wall of Mock's Hold, Pearl stood at the parapet, watching the dark shapes of the imperial fleet slowly swing round into the calm waters of the bay. Huge transports, like oversized bhederin, and the dromon escorts on the flanks lean as wolves. The Claw's eyes narrowed as he attempted to make out the foreign ships in the midst of the others. Enormous, twin-hulled…formidable. There seemed to be a lot of them.

How had they come here so quickly? And how did the Empress know that they would? The only possibility in answer to the first question was:
by warren
. Yet, who among the Adjunct's retinue could fashion a gate of such power and breadth? Quick Ben? Pearl did not think that likely. That bastard liked his secrets, and he liked playing both a weakling and something considerably deadlier, but neither conceit impressed Pearl. No, Tavore's High Mage didn't have what was necessary to open such a massive rift.

Leaving those damned foreigners.
And that was very troubling indeed. Perhaps it might prove a propitious moment for some kind of pre-emptive, covert action. Which would, now that the Empress had arrived, be possible after all. And expedient –
for we have no idea who has now come among us, right to the heart of the empire. A foreign navy, arriving virtually unopposed…within striking distance of the Empress herself.

It was going to be a busy night.

‘Pearl.'

The voice was low, yet he did not need to turn round to know who had spoken. He knew, as well, that Empress Laseen would frown disapprovingly should he turn to face her. Odd habits, that way.
No, just paranoia.
‘Good evening, Empress.'

‘Does this view please you?'

Pearl grimaced. ‘She has arrived. In all, well timed for everyone concerned.'

‘Do you look forward to seeing her again?'

‘I travelled in her company for some time, Empress.'

‘And?'

‘And, to answer your question, I am…indifferent.'

‘My Adjunct does not inspire loyalty?'

‘Not with me, Empress. Nor, I think, with the soldiers of the Fourteenth Army.'

‘And yet, Pearl, has she failed them? Even once?'

‘Y'Ghatan—'

The seemingly disembodied voice interrupted him. ‘Do not be a fool. This is you and I, Pearl, speaking here. In absolute private. What occurred at Y'Ghatan could not have been anticipated, by anyone. Given that, Adjunct Tavore's actions were proper and, indeed, laudable.'

‘Very well,' Pearl said, remembering that night of flames…the distant screams he could hear from inside his tent –
when in my anger and hurt, I hid, like some child
. ‘Facts aside, Empress, the matter hinges upon how one is perceived.'

‘Assuredly so.'

‘Adjunct Tavore rarely emerges from an event – no matter how benign or fortuitous – untarnished. And no, I do not understand why this should be so.'

‘The legacy of Coltaine.'

Pearl nodded in the darkness. Then, he frowned.
Ah, Empress, now I see
…‘And so, the dead hero is…unmanned. His name becomes a curse. His deeds, a lie.'
No, damn you, I was close enough to know otherwise. No
. ‘Empress, it will not work.'

‘Will it not?'

‘No. Instead, we all are tainted. Faith and loyalty vanish. All that gifts us with pride becomes stained. The Malazan Empire ceases to have heroes, and without heroes, Empress, we will self-destruct.'

‘You lack faith, Pearl.'

‘In what, precisely?'

‘The resilience of a civilization.'

‘The faith you suggest seems more a wilful denial, Empress. Refusing to acknowledge the symptoms because it's easier that way. Complacency serves nothing but dissolution.'

‘I may be many things,' Laseen said, ‘but complacent is not one of them.'

‘Forgive me, Empress, I did not mean to suggest that.'

‘That fleet of catamarans,' she said after a moment, ‘looks rather ominous. Can you sense the power emanating from it?'

‘Somewhat.'

‘Does it not follow, given their appearance, Pearl, that in allying themselves with Adjunct Tavore, these foreigners
perceived
in her something we do not? I wonder what it might be.'

‘I cannot imagine their motives, Empress, for I have yet to meet them.'

‘Do you wish to, Pearl?'

As I anticipated.
‘In truth, those motives are of little interest to me.'

‘It would seem that not much is these days, Pearl. With you.'

And who has made that particular report, Empress?
He shrugged, said nothing.

‘The fleet is anchoring in the bay,' the Empress suddenly said, and she stepped up to stand beside Pearl, her gloved hands resting on the battered stone. ‘There, two ships only, sliding forward to dock. What does she believe, to have issued such orders? And, perhaps more significantly, why has Admiral Nok not countermanded her – the signal flags are lit, after all. There can be no mistaking my command.'

‘Empress,' said Pearl, ‘there are not enough berths for this fleet in the entire harbour. It may be that the ships will dock in a particular order—'

‘No.'

He fell silent, but he could feel sweat prickling beneath his clothes.

‘Her first move,' the Empress whispered, and there was something like excitement – or dark satisfaction – in her tone.

A squeal sounded from the weather vane atop the tower behind them, and Pearl shivered.
Aye, on a night with no wind
…He looked down upon the city, and saw torchlight in the streets.
Sparks to tinder, the word of the arrival in the bay races from mouth to mouth, eager as lust. The Wickans have returned, and now the mob gathers…the rage awakens.

Thus, Empress – you need those ships to close, you need the lines drawn fast.

You need the victims to disembark, to bring the flames to a roar.

She turned about then. ‘Follow me.'

Back along the watch-mount, across the causeway span to the keep itself. Her strides sure, almost eager. Beneath the arched entranceway, between the two cloaked, hooded forms of Claws – he felt their warrens held open, power roiling invisibly from their unseen hands.

A long, poorly lit corridor, the pavestones humped where subsurface settling had occurred, marking where an enormous crack was riven through the entire fortress.
One day, this whole damned place will tumble into the bay, and good riddance.
Of course, the engineers and mages had assured everyone that such a risk was half a century away, or longer.
Too bad.

An intersection, the Empress leading him to the left – oh yes, she was familiar with this place. Where she had, years ago, assassinated the Emperor and Dancer.
Assassination. If you could call it that. More like inadvertently aided and abetted.
Along another canted corridor, and finally to the doors of a meeting chamber. Where stood two more Claws, the one on the left turning upon sighting them and tugging open the left door, in time for the Empress to pass within without change of pace.