Toll the Hounds (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #8)

by Steven Erikson

Tiserra had not expected anything like this. She was not seeking prophecy – her thoughts had been centred on her husband and whatever web he had found himself trapped in – no, not prophecy, nothing on such a grand scale as this… I see the end of Darujhistan. Spirits save us, I see my city’s end. This, Torvald, is your nest. ‘Oh, husband,’ she murmured, ‘you are in trouble indeed…’ Her eyes strayed once more to The Rope. Is that you, Cotillion? Or has Vorcan returned? It’s not just the Guild – the Guild means nothing here. No, there are faces behind that veil. There are terrible deaths coming. Terrible deaths. Abruptly, she swept up the cards, as if by that gesture alone she could defy what was coming, could fling apart the strands and so free the world to find a new future. As if things could be so easy. As if choices were indeed free.