Memories of Ice (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #3)

by Steven Erikson

‘We are the clay, and our endless war against the Jaghut is the struggling beast beneath. The surface is shaped by what lies beneath.’ He gestured with one hand. ‘And before us now, in these creatures slowly turning to stone, is the curse of eternity.’

It seems that, no matter which of the two choices is made, the Crippled God wins.’

‘The captain here’s on the threshold of ascendancy, as we suspected. And that means that what he does – or chooses not to do – could have profound effects. On all of us. The Deck of Dragons seems to have acquired a Master. Jen’isand Rul.’

Peace is the time of waiting for war. A time of preparation, or a time of wilful ignorance, blind, blinkered and prattling behind secure walls.

These K’Chain Che’Malle are what was once known as K’ell Hunters. Chosen children of a matriarch, bred to battle. However, they are undead, and that which controls them hides well its identity – somewhere to the south, we believe.

‘What have I seen? I was witness, T’lan Imass, to the death of Treach. Trake, as he’s known round here, the Tiger of Summer. Where? North of here. Not far. And no, I don’t know why.’

Crippled and chained he may be, Lady Envy, but this particular god is never so obvious. His game displays a master’s sleight of hand. Nothing is as he would have us believe, and his use of unwitting servants is as brutal as his treatment of enemies. Consider, after all, the Pannion Seer. No, for Callows, death came from the sea. A warren-twisted fleet. Cold-eyed, unhuman killers. Seeking, ever seeking, they now ply the world’s oceans.

Those veins, those arteries, they are the warrens. ‘Who created this? Who?’ Dear Lady, K’rul replied, you have your answer, and I will be damned if I am going to countenance your impertinence. You are a sorceress. By Light’s Wild Mane, your power feeds on the very blood of my eternal soul, and I will have your obedience in this!

Anomander Rake, Draconus, Osric, a handful of others. And now you. Forgive me, Lady Envy, I have no wish to be a tyrant. My presence within the warrens has ever been passive – you are free to do as you choose, as is every other creature who swims my immortal blood. I have but one excuse, if you will. This Crippled God, this stranger from an unknown realm … Lady Envy, I am frightened.

Take great care of him, Lady. The scarred and the flawed are what the Crippled God seeks in his servants. I shall endeavour to keep Toc’s soul from the Chained One’s grasp, but, please, maintain your guard. Also … there is something else to that man, something … wild. We shall have to await its awakening before understanding comes to us, however.