A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

beyond her understanding, but at that moment the rising tide of horror within her broke free, the numbness of her soul seared away as the flies exploded outward, dispersing in all directions to reveal... no-one.
    The once-priest of Fener flinched as if struck, his eyes wide. From across the Round a half-dozen guards cried out, wordless sounds punched from their throats. Chains snapped as others in the line jolted as if to flee, the iron loops set in the wall snatched taut, but the loops held as did the chains. The guards rushed forward and the line shrank back into submission.
    'Now that,' the tattooed man shakily muttered, 'was uncalled for.'
    An hour passed, an hour in which the mystery, shock and horror of Hood's priest sank down within Felisin to become but one more layer, the latest but not the last in what had become an unending nightmare. An acolyte of Hood ... who was not there. The buzzing of wings that formed words. Was that Hood himself? Had the Lord of Death come to walk among mortals? And why stand before a once-priest of Fener – what was the message behind the revelation?
    But slowly the questions faded in her mind, the numbness seeping back, the return of cold despair. The Empress had culled the Nobility, stripped the Houses and families of their wealth, followed by a summary accusation and conviction of treason that had ended in chains. And yet the ex-priest on her right and the huge, bestial man with all the makings of a common criminal on her left – clearly neither one could claim noble blood. She laughed softly, startling both men.
    'Has Hood's secret revealed itself to you, then, lass?' the ex-priest asked.
    'No.'
    'What do you find so amusing?'
    She shook her head. I had expected to find myself in good company, how's that for an upturned thought? There you have it, the very attitude the peasants hungered to tear down, the very same fuel the Empress has touched to flame —
    'Child!'
    The voice was that of an aged woman, still haughty but with an air of desperate yearning. Felisin closed her eyes briefly, then straightened and looked along the line to the gaunt old woman beyond the thug. The woman was wearing her nightclothes, torn and smeared. With noble blood, no less.
    'Lady Gaesen.'
    The old woman reached out a shaking hand. 'Yes! Wife to Lord Hilrac! I am Lady Gaesen...' The words came as if she'd forgotten who she was, and now she frowned through the cracked make-up covering her wrinkles and her red-shot eyes fixed on Felisin. 'I know you,' she hissed. 'House of Paran. Youngest daughter. Felisin!'
    Felisin went cold. She turned away, stared straight ahead out into the compound where the guards stood leaning on pikes passing flasks of ale between them and waving away the last of the flies. A cart had arrived for the mule, four ash-smeared men clambering down from its bed with ropes and gaffs. Beyond the walls encircling the Round rose Unta's painted spires and domes. She longed for the shadowed streets between them, longed for the pampered life of a week ago, Sebry barking harsh commands at her as she led her favourite mare through the paces. And she would look up, as she guided the mare in a delicate, precise turn, to see the row of green-leafed leadwoods separating the riding ground from the family vineyards.
    Beside her the thug grunted. 'Hood's feet, the bitch has some sense of humour.'
    Which bitch? Felisin wondered, but she managed to hold her expression even as she lost the comfort of her memories.
    The ex-priest stirred. 'Sisterly spat, is it?' He paused, then dryly added, 'Seems a bit extreme.'
    The thug grunted again and leaned forward, his shadow draping Felisin. 'Defrocked priest, are you? Not like the Empress to do any temples a favour.'
    'She didn't. My loss of piety was long ago. I'm sure the Empress would rather I'd stayed in the cloister.'
    'As if she'd care,' the thug said derisively as he settled back into his pose.
    Lady Gaesen rattled, 'You must speak with her, Felisin! An appeal! I have rich friends—'
    The thug's grunt turned into a bark. 'Farther up the line, hag, that's where you'll find your rich friends!'
    Felisin just shook her head. Speak with her? It's been months. Not even when Father died.
    A silence followed, dragging on, approaching the silence that had existed before this spate of babble, but then the ex-priest cleared his throat, spat and muttered, 'Not worth looking for salvation in a woman who's just following orders, Lady, never mind that one being