The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (965 page)

‘What?'

He shook his head. ‘Just wondering out loud. It's not important.'

‘I want my life as it is, Cutter, only without him. I want you instead of him. That's how I want it.'

What would Murillio say in this situation? But no, I'm not Murillio.

Still…

He'd be out through this window in a heartbeat. Duels with wronged husbands? Hood's breath!
He faced her. ‘Is that what you want?'

‘I just told you it was!'

‘No, that's not what I meant. I meant…oh, never mind.'

‘You have to do it. For me. For us.'

‘He's at the mines west of the city? For how much longer?'

‘Two days at least. You can go out there.'

And suddenly she was standing in front of him, hands on the sides of his face, her body pressing hard, and he stared down into her dilated eyes.

Excitement.

I used to think…that look – this look…I used to think…

‘My love,' she whispered. ‘It has to be done. You see that, don't you?'

But it was always this, just this. Leading up to this moment. Where she was taking me – or have I got it all wrong?

‘Challice—'

But her mouth was on his now, and she swallowed down all his words, until none were left.

 

Spin round and rush back. Murillio still lies in the dust, a crowd mechanically cheering in the pit below. The day draws to a close, and a youth named Venaz gathers his gang of followers and sets out for the tunnel called Steep.

Not much need be said about Venaz. But let us give him this. Sold to the mine by his stepfather – dear Ma too drunk to even lift her head when the collectors showed up and if she heard the clinking of coins, well, her thoughts would have crawled the short distance to the moment when she could buy another bottle, and no further. That had been four years ago.

The lesson that a child is not loved, not even by the one who bore it, delivers a most cruel wound. One that never heals, but instead stretches scar tissue over the mind's eye, so that for that orphan's entire life the world beyond is tainted, and it sees what others do not, and is blinded by perpetual mistrust to all that the heart feels. Such was Venaz, but to know is not to excuse, and we shall leave it there.

 

Venaz's pack consisted of boys a year or so younger than him. They vied with each other for position in the pecking order and were as vicious individually as they were in a group. They were just versions of him, variations only on the surface. They followed and would do anything he told them to, at least until he stumbled, made a mistake. And then they would close in like half-starved wolves.

Venaz walked emboldened, excited, delighted at this amazing turn of events. The Big Man wanted Harllo and not to pat him on the head either. No, there would be even more blood spilled on this day, and if Venaz could work it right, why, he might be the one to spill it – at the Big Man's nod, that's all it would take, and maybe the Big Man would see how good Venaz could be. Good enough, maybe, to recruit him into his own household. Every noble needed people like Venaz, to do the ugly stuff, the bad stuff.

They reached the slope leading to the mouth of the tunnel. Three grown-ups were trying to fix the axle of a cart and they looked up when Venaz arrived.

‘Where's Bainisk?' Venaz asked.

‘New vein,' one of them replied. ‘He in trouble again?'

‘He got his moles with him?' It felt good being so important he didn't have to answer the man's question.

Shrugs all round.

Venaz scowled. ‘Has he got his moles with him?'

The one who'd spoken slowly straightened. His backhanded slap caught Venaz by surprise, and was hard enough to knock the boy back. He was then grabbed and thrown on to the stony ground. The man stood over him. ‘Watch your mouth.'

Venaz sat up, glaring. ‘You ain't seen what just happened? Up on the ridge?'

Another grunted. ‘We heard 'bout something.'

‘A duel – the Big Man killed someone!'

‘So what?'

‘And then he called for Harllo! He wants Harllo! And I come to get him and you're stopping me and when he hears—'

He got no further as the man who had struck him now grasped him by the throat and dragged him to his feet. ‘He won't hear nothing, Venaz. You think we give a fuck about Vidikas having a fuckin' duel? Killin' some poor bastard for what? Our entertainment?'

‘He's turnin' blue, Haid. Better loosen yer grip some.'

Venaz gasped an agonizing lungful of air.

‘Get it right, lad,' Haid went on, ‘Vidikas
owns
us. We're pieces of meat to him, right? So he puts out a call for one of us and for what? Why, to chew it up, that poor piece of meat. And what, you think that's a fuckin' good idea? Get outa my sight, Venaz, but you can count on me rememberin' this.'

The pack was huddled together now, white-faced, but among some of them there was something rather more calculating. Was this the moment to usurp Venaz?

The three men went back to working on the axle. Venaz, his colour returning to normal, dusted himself off and then set out in a stiff-legged march towards the tunnel mouth. His pack fell in behind him.

As they plunged into the cool gloom Venaz wheeled. ‘That was Haid and Favo and Dule, right? Remember them names. They're on my list now, all three of them. They're on my list.'

Faces nodded.

And those who had been weighing their chances each realized that the moment had passed. They'd been too slow. Venaz had a way of recovering, and fast, scary fast. He was, they reminded themselves yet again, going places, without a doubt.

 

Harllo slid along the vein, feeling with his bare stomach the purity of the black silver and, yes, it
was
silver and where had it come from when all they'd been working for so long was copper up on the skins and iron down deep? But it felt so beautiful, this silver. Better than gold, better than anything.

Wait till he told Bainisk and Bainisk told the foreman! They'd be heroes. They might even get extra portions at supper, or a cup of watered wine!

The chute was narrow, so small they'd need moles for weeks before it got worked out big enough to take the pickers, so there was a good chance that Harllo would be seeing – and feeling – a lot more of this silver, every day, maybe.

And all that trouble from before would go away, just like that – he knew it would—

‘Harllo!'

The voice whispered up from somewhere behind his feet, reminding him that he was still head down and that could be dangerous. He might pass out and not even know it. ‘I'm all right, Bainisk! I found—'

‘Harllo! Get back here right now!'

A shiver ran through Harllo. Bainisk's voice didn't sound right. It sounded…scared.

But that wouldn't last, would it? Not with the silver—

‘
Hurry!
'

Moving backwards was never easy. He pushed with his hands, squirmed and pressed his toes against the hard stone and then extended his heels. There were leather pads tied to his feet for this purpose, but it still hurt. Like a caterpillar, gathering up and then pushing, bit by bit, working his way back up the chute.

All at once hands grasped his ankles and he was being roughly dragged.

Harllo cried out as his chin struck an obstruction and when he lifted his head up the top crunched on rock, scraping away skin and hair. ‘Bainisk! What—'

He fell free of the chute, thumping down. The hands released his ankles and now grasped his upper arms, lifting him to his feet.

‘Bainisk—'

‘Shhh! Word's come down – someone came to find you – from the city.'

‘What?'

‘Vidikas killed him – in a duel – and now he's called for you to be brought to him. It's bad, Harllo. I think he's going to kill you!'

But this was too much to hear, too much all at once – someone had come – who? Gruntle! And Vidikas had…had killed him.
No. He couldn't have – he didn't—
‘Who was he?' he asked.

‘I don't know. Listen, we're going to escape, you and me, Harllo – do you understand?'

‘But how can we—'

‘We're going deeper in, to the Settle—'

‘But that's not safe—'

‘There are huge cracks on that side – some of them, they got to go right up and out, lakeside. We get there, and then along the shoreline, all the way back to the city!'

They had been hissing back and forth, and now they heard shouts echoing down from the main passage.

‘Venaz – that figures, doesn't it? Come on, Harllo, we got to go
now
!'

They set out, each with a lantern, Bainisk taking a coil of rope as well, down through the fresh workings – there was no one there yet, as first the air had been bad and then there'd been flooding and only the shift before the last of the hoses was snaked out to see how much more water was seeping back in. After fifty or so paces they were ankle-deep in icy water and flows slicked the side walls and drops rained down from the ceiling. The farther in they went, the more cracks they saw – everywhere, all sides, above and below – proof that they were reaching the Settle, where half a cliff was sinking towards the lake. The rumours were that it was only days from collapse.

The tunnel descended in irregular shelves, and now the water was at Harllo's thighs, numbingly cold. Both were gasping.

‘Bainisk – will this go back up?'

‘It will, if the water's not too deep, it will, I promise.'

‘Why – why are you doing this? You should've just handed me over.'

Bainisk was some time before answering. ‘I want to see it, Harllo.'

‘You want to see what?'

‘The city. I – I just want to see it, that's all. When I heard, well, it was as if everything fell into place. This was the time – our best chance – this close to the Settle.'

‘You'd been thinking about this.'

‘Yes. Harllo, I
never
stop thinking about this.'

‘The city.'

‘The city.'

Something clanged somewhere behind them – still distant, but closer than expected.

‘Venaz! They're after us – shit – come on, Harllo, we got to hurry.'

The water reached Harllo's hips. He was having trouble working his legs. He kept stumbling. Twice he almost let his lantern sink down too far. Their desperate gasping echoed on all sides, along with sloshing water.

‘Bainisk, I can't—'

‘Drop your light – just take hold of my shirt – I'll pull you. Don't let go.'

Groaning, Harllo let the lantern sink into the water. A sudden hiss, something cracking. When he released the handle the lantern vanished into the blackness. He took hold of Bainisk's ragged shirt.

They continued on, Harllo feeling his legs trailing behind him but only from the hips – below that there was nothing. A strange lassitude flowed into him, taking away the icy cold. Bainisk was chest-deep now, whimpering as he sought to keep the lantern held high.

They stopped.

‘The tunnel goes under,' said Bainisk.

‘Issallright, Bainisk. We gan stop now.'

‘No, hold on to this ledge. I'm going under. I won't be long. I promise.'

He set the lantern on a narrow ledge. And then he sank down and was gone.

Harllo was alone. It would be much easier to let go, to relax his aching hands. Venaz was coming, he'd be here soon. And then it would be over. The water was warm now – that might be one way to escape them. Do what Bainisk had just done. Just sink away, vanish.

He wasn't wanted, he knew. Not by his mother, not by anyone. And the one who'd come to find him, well, that man had died for that. And that wasn't right. Nobody should go and die for Harllo. Not Gruntle, not Bainisk, not anybody. So, no more of any of that – he could let go—

Foaming water, thrashing, gasps and coughs. An icy hand clutched at Harllo.

‘We can get through! Harllo – the tunnel on the other side – it slopes upward!'

‘I can't—'

‘You have to! The city, Harllo, you have to show it to me – I'd be lost. I need you, Harllo.
I need you
.'

‘All right, but…' He was about to tell Bainisk the truth. About the city. That it wasn't the paradise he'd made it out to be. That people starved there. That people did bad things to each other. But no, that could wait. It'd be bad to talk about those things right now. ‘All right, Bainisk.'

They left the lantern. Bainisk uncoiled some of the rope and tied the end about Harllo's waist, fumbling with numbed hands on the knot. ‘Take a few deep breaths first,' he said. ‘And then one more, deep as you can.'

The plunge into the dark left Harllo instantly disoriented. The rope round his waist pulled him down and then into the face of the current. He opened his eyes and felt the thrill of shock from the icy flow. Strange glowing streaks flashed past, possibly from the rock itself, or perhaps they were but ghosts lurking behind his eyes. At first he sought to help Bainisk, flailing with his arms and trying to kick, but after a moment he simply went limp.

Either Bainisk would pull them both through, or he wouldn't. Either way was fine.

His mind began to drift, and he so wanted to take a breath – he couldn't hold back much longer. His lungs were burning. The water would be cool, cool enough to quench that fire for ever more. Yes, he could do that.

Cold bit into his right hand –
what?
And then his head was lifted above the surface. And he was sucking in icy lungfuls of air.

Darkness, the rush and gurgle of water flowing past, seeking to pull him back, back and down. But Bainisk was tugging him along, and it was getting shallower as the tunnel widened. The black, dripping ceiling seemed to be sagging, forming a crooked spine overhead. Harllo stared up at it, wondering how he could see at all.