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

by Steven Erikson

But for men like Dujek Onearm and Whiskeyjack, it’s the sum total of their lives. They’re makers of history. Their gift is the power to command. What they do revises the scholar’s maps.

When frozen between life and death, in the glacial in-between, what can exist of mortal feeling? Not even an echo. Only memories of ice, of ice and no more than that.

‘Olar Ethil,’ Ay Estos said. ‘First among the Bonecasters. Eleint, the First Soletaken.

Ah, my friend, I saw only your brutality – and that hurt you.

War is not a natural state. It is an imposition, and a damned unhealthy one. With its rules, we willingly yield our humanity.

So long as it’s understood that this will likely mean our financial ruin, and all that might be achieved is a kinder end to her life.’ ‘A worthwhile exchange, then.’

Aye, it’s naught but coin, isn’t it? No matter the amount, a fair exchange to ease an old woman’s suffering. One way or the other. For at least we will have cared – even if she never again awakens and thus knows nothing of what we do.

If I needed an army I’d look first to people who eat each other when things get tough. Absolutely. In an instant.’

‘The continent of Assail. Our losses: twenty-nine thousand eight hundred and fourteen Kerluhm. Twenty-two thousand two hundred Ifayle. Eight months of battle. We have lost this war.’ Lady Envy was silent for a long moment, then she said, ‘It seems you’ve finally found a Jaghut Tyrant who is more than your match, Lanas Tog.’ The T’lan Imass cocked her head. ‘Not Jaghut. Human.’

Of all the weapons we turn upon ourselves, guilt is the sharpest, Silverfox. It can carve one’s own past into unrecognizable shapes, false memories leading to beliefs that sow all kinds of obsessions.’

When I see Onos T’oolan once more, I will tell him: he was the one who was right.’

And you, my dear lover, thief of all my thoughts, will you ever release me? Please. Do not. Ever.

The heart of wisdom is tolerance. I think.’

Poisoned souls, led by the one who has been slain a hundred times, oh, ‘ware this new Emperor of the Edur, this Tyrant of Pain, this Deliverer of Midnight Tides!

‘Draconus,’ he grated, ‘you have made a very unpleasant sword.’

Before the Houses, there were Holds. Before Holds, there was wandering.

Diversity is worth celebrating, Humbrall Taur, for it is the birthplace of wisdom.’

The time had come for the First Sword of the T’lan Imass to announce himself.

As Kallor’s huge sword punched into his chest. Slid between ribs. Ripped through heart and lungs in a diagonal, inward-slicing thrust. Whiskeyjack died on that blade – life dropping back from the eyes that met Korlat’s, back, away, then gone.

There can be no true rendition of betrayal, for the moment hides within itself, sudden, delivering such comprehension that one would surrender his or her own soul to deny all that has come to pass.

friend to Onrack of the Logros,

Hedge looked up – to find himself four paces away from the charging reptile. Picker heard him grunt, a muted, momentary sound— The sapper threw the cusser straight down.

None the less, I will acknowledge that the matter is a secret but not one of my own, so I shall freely speak of it.’

Compassion is priceless in the truest sense of the word. It must be given freely. In abundance.

And now Burn’s realm had found new denizens. Was now home to an ancient warren. ‘Memories,’ Quick Ben had said, ‘of ice.

He will not relinquish his burden, for he remains in death as he was in life. Itkovian, Shield Anvil of Fener’s Reve. Remember him.’

Whiskeyjack, for all that you have taught me, I thank you. Bridgeburners, I wish I could have done better by you. Especially at the end. At the very least, I could have died with you. All right, it’s probably far too late. But I bless you, one and all.

‘Very well, permit me, if you will, on this night. To break your hearts once more. This is the story of the Chain of Dogs. Of Coltaine of the Crow Clan, newly come Fist to the 7th Army …’ This ends the Third Tale of The Malazan Book of the Fallen