A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

of ... flavour. Adjunct, may I continue?'
    Lorn's mouth thinned into a straight line.
    'The Jaghut who entombed the Tyrant were born of a different Elder Warren. But the term "Elder" is relative only to the existing Warrens of this age. The Jaghut Omtose Phellack is not "Elder" when compared to Tellann. They are the same, of the same flavour. Do you understand thus far, Adjunct?'
    'Patronizing bastard,' she muttered to herself. 'Yes, Tool.'
    The Imass nodded, his bones creaking. 'The barrow has not been found before, precisely because it is Omtose Phellack. It lies within a Warren now lost to the world. Yet, I am Tellann. My Warren touches Omtose Phellack. I can reach it, Adjunct. Any T'lan Imass could. I was chosen because I am without a Clan. I am alone in every way.'
    'Why should that be important?' Lorn asked, her stomach twisting.
    Tool looked at her. 'Adjunct. What we seek to accomplish is the freeing of a Jaghut Tyrant. Such a being, should it escape our control, or defy our predictions, is capable of destroying this continent. It can enslave all living upon it, and it would do so if permitted. If, instead of me, Logros had selected a Bone Caster; and if the Tyrant was freed, that Bone Caster would become enslaved. A Jaghut Tyrant is dangerous alone. A Jaghut Tyrant with an Imass Bone Caster at its side is unstoppable. They would challenge the gods, and they would kill most of them. Also, I am without a Clan, thus my enslavement – should that event befall – would not enslave blood kin.'
    Lorn stared at the Imass. What were the Empress and Tayschrenn thinking of? How could they hope to control this thing? 'You are saying, Tool, that you're expendable.'
    'Yes, Adjunct.'
    And so, she realized, am I. 'What,' she asked, 'will stop the Tyrant? How do we control it?'
    'We don't, Adjunct. That is the gamble we take.'
    'And what does that mean?'
    Tool shrugged, an audible lifting and dropping of bones beneath the rotted furs. 'The Lord of Moon's Spawn, Adjunct. He will have no choice but to intervene.'
    'He's capable of stopping the Tyrant?'
    'Yes, Adjunct. He is, although it will cost him dearly, weaken him. More, he is capable of delivering the single punishment that a Jaghut Tyrant fears most.' A faint gleam of light rose in Tool's eye sockets as the Imass stared at Lorn. 'Enslavement, Adjunct.'
    Lorn stopped in her tracks. 'You mean the Moon's lord will have the Tyrant working on his side?'
    'No, Adjunct. The enslavement is by the lord's hand, but it is beyond him as well. You see, the Empress knows who the lord is, and what he possesses.'
    Lorn nodded. 'He's Tiste Andii, and a High Mage.'
    A rasp of laughter came from Tool. 'Adjunct, he is Anomander Rake, the Son of Darkness. Bearer of Dragnipur.'
    Lorn frowned.
    Tool seemed to have noticed her confusion, for the Imass elaborated. 'Dragnipur is a sword, born of the Age before Light. And Darkness, Adjunct, is the Goddess of the Tiste Andii.'
    A few minutes later, Lorn found her voice. 'The Empress,' she said quietly, 'knows how to pick her enemies.'
    And then Tool hit her with another stunning revelation. 'I am sure,' the Imass said, 'the Tiste Andii regret their coming to this world.'
    'They came to this world? From where? How? Why?'
    'The Tiste Andii were of Kurald Galain, the Warren of Darkness. Kurald Galain stood alone, untouched. The Goddess, their mother, knew loneliness ...' Tool hesitated. 'There is probably little truth in this story, Adjunct.'
    'Go on,' Lorn said quietly. 'Please.'
    'In her loneliness, the Goddess sought something outside herself. Thus was born Light. Her children the Tiste Andii saw this as a betrayal. They rejected her. Some hold they were cast out, others that they departed their mother's embrace by choice. While Tiste Andii mages still use the Warren of Kurald Galain they are no longer of it. And some have embraced another Warren, that of Starvald Demelain.'
    'The First Warren.'
    Tool nodded.
    'Whose Warren did Starvald Demelain belong to?'
    'It was the home of Dragons, Adjunct.'
     
    Murillio turned in his saddle and brought the mule to a halt on the dusty road. He glanced ahead. Kruppe and Crokus had already reached the Worry Crossroads. He patted his brow with the soft satin of his burnous, then looked back again. Coll leaned hunched over in his saddle, losing the rest of his breakfast.
    Murillio sighed. It was a wonder to see the man sober, but that he'd insisted on accompanying them bordered on miraculous. Murillio wondered