A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

eyes fixing on the Imass's broad, tattered back.
    They entered the hillside. A rough corridor, leading into darkness, appeared before them. Frost limned the stacked boulders forming the walls and ceiling. As they went further, the air grew bitter cold, stripped of scents, and thick green and white ropes of ice tracked the walls. The floor, which had been frozen, packed earth, became slabs of stone, slick with ice.
    Numbness seeped into Lorn's extremities and her face. She saw her breath curl in a white stream, drawn inward to the darkness beyond. The corridor narrowed and she saw strange symbols painted on and within the ice streaking the walls, dull red ochre in colour. These markings brushed something deep inside her – she almost recognized them, but as soon as she concentrated on doing so, the sensation of familiarity vanished.
    Tool spoke. 'My people have visited here before,' he said, pausing to look at the Adjunct over one shoulder. 'They added their own wards to those of the Jaghut who imprisoned this Tyrant.'
    Lorn was irritated. 'What of it?'
    The Imass stared at her in silence, then replied, dully, 'Adjunct, I believe I know the name of this Jaghut Tyrant. I am now beset by doubts. It should not be freed. Yet, like you, I am compelled.'
    Lorn's breath caught.
    'Adjunct,' Tool continued, 'I acknowledge the ambivalence you have been feeling. I share it. When this is done, I shall leave.'
    She was confused. 'Leave?'
    Tool nodded. 'Within this tomb, and with what we will do, my vows are ended. They will bind me no longer. Such is the residual power of this sleeping Jaghut. And for that, I am thankful.'
    'Why are you telling me this?'
    'Adjunct, you are welcome to accompany me.'
    Lorn opened her mouth, but could think of no immediate reply so shut it again.
    'I ask that you consider my offer, Adjunct. I shall journey in search of an answer, and I shall find it.'
    Answer? To what? she wanted to ask. Yet something stopped her, a surge of fear that said to her: You don't want to know. Remain ignorant in this. 'Let's get on with it,' she grated.
    Tool resumed his march into the darkness.
    After a minute Lorn asked, 'How much time is this going to take?'
    'Time?' There was amusement in his voice. 'Within this barrow, Adjunct, time does not exist. The Jaghut who imprisoned their kin brought an age of ice to this land, the barrow's final seal. Adjunct, a half-league of ice stands over this burial chamber – still. We have come to a time and place before the faltering of the Jaghut ice, before the coming of the great inland sea known to the Imass as Jhagra Til, before the passing of countless ages—'
    'And when we return?' Lorn interrupted. 'How much time will have passed?'
    'I cannot say, Adjunct.' The Imass paused and turned back to her, his eye sockets glimmering with a sourceless light. 'I have never done this before.'
     
    Despite the hardened leather armour, the feel of a woman pressing against Crokus's back had brought to his face more sweat than the afternoon heat could account for. Yet it was a mix of feelings that had his heart thumping against his chest. On the one hand was the bald fact that here was a girl of nearly his age, and an attractive one at that, with surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his waist and her warm, moist breath on his neck. On the other hand, this woman had murdered a man, and the only reason he could think of her arriving on the scene back there in the hills was that she'd been planning to kill him, too. So he found himself too tense to enjoy sharing the saddle with her.
    They had said little to each other since leaving Coll. In another day, Crokus knew, Darujhistan's walls would come into view. He wondered if she'd remember it. And then a voice spoke in his head that sounded like Coil's: 'Why don't you ask the girl, idiot?' Crokus scowled.
    She spoke first. 'Is Itko Kan far from here?'
    He thought about laughing, but something – an instinct – stopped him. Tread softly, he told himself. 'I've never heard of such a place,' he said. 'It's in the Malazan Empire?'
    'Yes. We aren't in the Empire?'
    Crokus growled, 'Not yet.' Then his shoulders slumped. 'We're on a continent called Genabackis. The Malazans came from the seas both east and west. They now control all the Free Cities to the north, as well as the Nathilog Confederacy.'
    'Oh,' the girl replied weakly. 'You're at war with the Empire, then.'
    'More or less, though you'd never know it as far as Darujhistan is