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Kinship had been dismembered, love had proved a burden too costly to carry.
There were mysteries in the world, few of them pleasant.
Since Tool and Toc stood in the open, it was impossible that they had not been seen, yet the three displayed no perturbation or change of pace as they strode nearer. At a dozen paces the wolfish dog loped forward, tail wagging as it came up to the T’lan Imass. Musing on the scene, Toc scratched his jaw. ‘An old friend, Tool? Or does the beast want you to toss it one of your bones?’ The undead warrior regarded him in silence. ‘Humour,’ Toc said, shrugging. ‘Or a poor imitation. I didn’t think T’lan Imass could take offence.’ Or, rather, I’m hoping that’s the case. Gods, my big mouth … ‘I was
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Curiosity is my greatest curse, but simple acknowledgement of a flaw does not correct it. Alas.
He was not as he had been, and this new shaping was not to his liking. Pain darkened the world. Pain dislocated. Turned one’s own flesh and bones into a stranger’s house, from which no escape seemed possible.
Damn you, Whiskeyjack, what have you and Dujek cooked up? The Pannion Domin … why are we sparing a mole’s ass for some upstart zealots? These things burn out. Every time. They implode. The scroll scribblers take over – they always do – and start arguing obscure details of the faith. Sects form. Civil war erupts, and there it is, just one more dead flower trampled on history’s endless road. Aye, it’s all so bright and flushed right now. Only, colours fade. They always do. One day, the Malazan Empire will come face to face with its own mortality. One day, dusk will fall on the empire.
‘Why, soldier, you certainly do have particular views when it comes to sorcery. However, did I detect something of rote in your words? Which bitter scholar – some failed sorceror no doubt – has espoused such views?’ Despite himself, Toc grinned. ‘Aye, fair enough. Not a scholar, in fact, but a High Priest.’ ‘Ah, well, cults see any advancement – sorcerous or, indeed, mundane – as potential threats. You must dismantle your sources, Toc the Younger, lest you do nothing but ape the prejudices of others.’
‘Expedience always comes arm-in-arm with discomfort,’ the High Fist muttered.
Grimacing, Gruntle watched her ride off. ‘She is a treasure, is she not?’ Harllo murmured with a sigh. ‘Never seen you so lovestruck before,’ Gruntle said with a sidelong glance. ‘It’s the unattainable, friend, that’s what’s done for me. I long helplessly, morosely maundering over unrequited adoration. I dream of her and Nektara … with me snug between ’em—’
‘Go.’ The two veterans watched the young woman depart. ‘Careless,’ the Trimaster murmured, ‘losing her helm.’ ‘Indeed.’ ‘Clever, finding another one.’
The hand of vengeance stayed cold only so long. Any soul possessing a shred of humanity could not help but see the reality behind cruel deliverance, no matter how justified it might have at first seemed. Faces blank in death. Bodies twisted in postures no-one unbroken could achieve. Destroyed lives. Vengeance yielded a mirror to every atrocity, where notions of right and wrong blurred and lost all relevance.
‘The man, Anaster, might well view what we seek for him as torture, but that is a fear born of ignorance. He will not be harmed. Indeed, my Shield Anvil seeks the very opposite for the unfortunate man.’ ‘She would take the pain from him.’ The Destriant nodded. ‘That spiritual embrace – such as Itkovian did to Rath’Fener.’ ‘Even so, sir.’ Paran was silent a moment, then he said, ‘The notion terrifies Anaster?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because he knows of nothing else within him. He has equated his entire identity with the pain of his soul. And so fears its end.’
‘Strange conquerors, you foreigners.’ ‘Aye, we are at that.’ ‘Why are you on Genabackis, Commander?’ ‘The Malazan Empire? We’re here to unify, and through unification, grow rich. We’re not selfish about getting rich, either.’ Humbrall Taur thumped his coin-threaded hauberk. ‘And silver is all that interests you?’ ‘Well, there’s more than one kind of wealth, Warchief.’ ‘Indeed?’ The huge warrior’s eyes had narrowed. Whiskeyjack smiled. ‘Meeting the White Face clans of the Barghast is one such reward. Diversity is worth celebrating, Humbrall Taur, for it is the birthplace of wisdom.’
