A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

take hold, stealing power to bolster his senses. When he looked again upon Heboric he almost shouted in surprise. The ex-priest's tattoos swarmed with a life of their own: flickering waves of power raced across his body and spun a handlike projection beyond the stump of his left wrist. That ghost-hand reached into a warren, was clenched as if gripping a tether. A wholly different power pulsed around his right stump, shot through with veins of green and Otataral red, as if two snakes writhed in mortal combat. The blunting effect arose exclusively from the green bands, radiating outward with what felt like conscious will. That it was strong enough to push back the effects of the Otataral was astonishing.
    Denul healers often described diseases as waging war, with the flesh as the battleground, which their warren gave them sight to see. Kulp wondered if he wasn't seeing something similar. But not a disease. A battle of warrens – Fener's own, linked by one ghostly hand, the other ensnared by Otataral, yet waxing nonetheless – a warren I can't recognize, a force alien to every sense I possess. He blinked. Heboric was staring at him, a faint smile on his broad mouth.
    'What in Hood's name has happened to you?' Kulp demanded.
    The ex-priest shrugged. 'I wish I knew.'
    The three marines now approached Heboric. 'I'm Gesler,' the corporal said in gruff deference. 'We're all that's left of the Boar Cult.'
    The old man's smile faded. 'That would make three too many.' He turned away and strode off to retrieve a pair of backpacks.
    Gesler stared after him, expressionless.
    That man recovers damned quick. The boy Truth had gasped at the harsh words of a man he took to be his god's priest. Kulp saw something crumbling into ruins behind the lad's light-blue eyes. Stormy revealed the dark clouds that likely gave reason to his name, but he laid a hand on Truth's shoulder a moment before facing the one-eared man.
    'Your hands keep hovering over those hidden blades and I'm gonna get nervous,' he said in a low growl, shifting grip on his crossbow.
    'That's Baudin,' the young woman said. 'He murders people. Old women, rivals. You name them, he's got their blood on his hands. Isn't that right, Baudin?' Without awaiting a reply she went on, 'I'm Felisin, House of Paran. Last in the line. But don't let any of that fool you.'
    She did not elaborate.
    Heboric returned with a pack slung over each forearm. He set them down, then moved close to Kulp. 'We're in no shape to help you, but after crossing this damned desert the thought of death by drowning is oddly appealing.' He stared out over the thrashing waves. 'What's out there?'
    'Imagine a child holding a leash and at the other end is a Hound of Shadow. The child's the mage, the Hound's his warren. Too long in the mines before making his escape, is my guess. We need to rest before trying to run his storm again.'
    'How bad are things on the mainland?'
    Kulp shrugged. 'I don't know. We saw Hissar in flames. Duiker went to rejoin Coltaine and the Seventh – that old man's got a streak of optimism that'll get him stuck on a sliding bed. I'd say the Seventh's history, and so's Coltaine and his Wickans.'
    'Ah, that Coltaine. When I was chained at the base of the crevasse behind Laseen's Palace I half expected to meet the man as a neighbour. Hood knows there was worthy enough company down there.' After a moment he shook his head. 'Coltaine's alive, Mage. You don't kill men like that easily.'
    'If that's true, then I'm bound to rejoin him.'
    Heboric nodded.
    'He was excommunicated,' Felisin said loudly.
    Both men turned to see Gesler facing the girl. She continued, 'More than that, he's the bane of his own god. Of yours, I gather. Beware scorned priests. You'll have to lead your own prayers to Fener, lads, and I'd advise you to pray. A lot.'
    The ex-priest swung back to Kulp with a sigh. 'You opened your warren to look upon me. What did you see?'
    Kulp scowled. 'I saw,' he said after a moment, 'a child dragging a Hound as big as a Hood-damned mountain. In one hand.'
    Heboric's expression tightened. 'And in the other?'
    'Sorry,' Kulp replied, 'no easy answer there.'
    'I'd let go ...'
    'If you could.'
    Heboric nodded.
    Kulp lowered his voice. 'If Gesler realized ...'
    'He'd cut me loose.'
    'Messily.'
    'I take it we're understood,' Heboric said with a faint smile.
    'Not really, but I'll let it lie for now.'
    The ex-priest acknowledged him with a nod.
    'Did you choose your company here, Heboric?' Kulp