The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen

by Steven Erikson

Toc’s gaze returned to Baaljagg. ‘Ancient memories.’ ‘Memories of ice.’ The T’lan Imass’s cavern eyes were fixed on the Malazan. ‘By this and your earlier words, I conclude that something has occurred – a binding of souls – between you and the ay. How?’ ‘I’m not aware of any binding of souls,’ Toc answered, still staring at the sleeping wolf. ‘I was granted … visions. We shared remembrances, I think. How? I don’t know. There were emotions within it, Tool, enough to make one despair.’ After a moment he returned to cleaning the scrawny creature beneath his hands. ‘Every gift is edged.’ Toc grimaced as he gutted the animal. ‘Edged. I suppose so. I’m beginning to suspect the truth of the legends – lose an eye to receive the gift of true vision.’ ‘How did you lose your eye, Toc the Younger?’ ‘A sizzling chunk from Moon’s Spawn – that deathly rain when the Enfilade was in full swing.’ ‘Stone.’ Toc nodded. ‘Stone.’ Then he stopped, looked up. ‘Obelisk,’ Tool said. ‘In the ancient Deck of Holds, it was known as Menhir. Touched by stone, mortal – Chen’re aral lich’fayle – there, on your brow. I give you a new name. Aral Fayle.’ ‘I don’t recall asking for a new name, Tool.’ ‘Names are not for the asking, mortal. Names are earned.’ ‘Huh, sounds like the Bridgeburners.’ ‘An ancient tradition, Aral Fayle.’ Hood’s breath. ‘Fine!’ he snapped. ‘Only I can’t see that I’ve earned anything—’ ‘You were sent into a Warren of Chaos, mortal. You survived – in itself an unlikely event – and trave...