The Crippled God (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #10)

by Steven Erikson

‘The haunt is gone from your face, Lostara,’ said Henar. ‘You were beautiful before, but now…’ ‘An unintended gift, to be sure,’ she said with some diffidence. ‘Gods are not known for mercy. Or compassion. But no mortal could stand in that blaze, and not come through either burned to ashes, or reborn.’ ‘Reborn, yes. A good description indeed. My boldness,’ he added with a rueful grimace, ‘retreats before you now.’ ‘Don’t let it,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t take mice to my bed, Henar Vygulf.’ ‘I shall try, then, to find the man I was.’ ‘I will help, but not yet – the healers are far from finished with you.’ She rose. ‘I must leave you now. The Adjunct.’ ‘I think Brys has forgotten me. Or assumed me dead.’ ‘Don’t think I’ll be reminding him,’ she said. ‘You ride at my side from now on.’ ‘Brys—’ ‘Hardly. A word in private with Aranict will do the trick, I think.’ ‘The king’s brother is collared?’ ‘Next time you two meet, you can compare shackles.’ ‘Thought you disliked mice, Lostara Yil.’ ‘Oh, I expect you to struggle and strain at your chains, Henar. It’s the ones we can’t tame that we keep under lock and key.’ ‘I see.’