A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

lightly.
    Paran closed his eyes. 'Why, then, have I not passed through Hood's Gate, if that is what it is?'
    'We're meddling,' the woman said.
    Oponn, the Twins of Chance. And my sword, my untested blade purchased years ago, with a name I chose so capriciously — 'What does Oponn want from me?'
    'Only this stumbling, ignorant thing you call your life, dear boy. The trouble with Ascendants is that they try to rig every game. Of course, we delight in ... uncertainty.'
    A distant howl stroked the air.
    'Oops,' the man said. 'Come to make certain of things, I'd say. We'd best leave, sister. Sorry, Captain, but it seems you'll pass through that Gate after all.'
    'Maybe,' the woman said.
    Her brother rounded on her. 'We agreed! No confrontation! Confrontation's messy. Unpleasant. I despise discomfiting scenes! Besides, the ones who come don't play fair.'
    'Then neither do we,' the sister snapped. She turned to the gate, raised her voice, 'Lord of Death! We would speak with you! Hood!'
    Paran rolled his head, watched as a bent, limping figure emerged from the Gate. Wearing rags, the figure slowly approached. Paran squinted – an old woman, a child with drool on its chin, a deformed young girl, a stunted, broken Trell, a desiccated Tiste Andii—
    'Oh, make up your mind!' the sister said.
    The apparition cocked a death's head, the grin of its teeth stained muddy yellow. 'You have chosen,' it said in quavering voice, 'unimaginatively.'
    'You are not Hood.' The brother scowled.
    Bones shifted under creaking skin. 'The lord is busy.'
    'Busy? We do not take kindly to insults,' the sister said.
    The apparition cackled, then stopped abruptly. 'How unfortunate. A mellifluous, deep-throated laugh would be more to my liking. Ah well, in answer: nor does my lord appreciate your interruption of this natural passage of a soul.'
    'Murdered at the hand of a god,' the sister said. 'That makes him fair game.'
    The creature grunted, shuffled close to look down at Paran. The eye sockets glimmered faintly, as if old pearls hid within the shadows. 'What, Oponn,' it asked, as it studied Paran, 'do you wish of my lord?'
    'Nothing from me,' the brother said, turning away.
    'Sister?'
    'Even for the gods,' she replied, 'death awaits, an uncertainty hiding deep within them.' She paused. 'Make them uncertain.'
    The creature cackled again, and again cut it short. 'Reciprocity.'
    'Of course,' the sister responded. 'I'll look for another, a death premature. Meaningless, even.'
    The apparition was silent, then the head creaked in a nod. 'In this mortal's shadow, of course.'
    'Agreed.'
    'My shadow?' Paran asked. 'What does that mean, precisely?'
    'Much sorrow, alas,' the apparition said. 'Someone close to you shall walk through Death's Gates ... in your place.'
    'No. Take me instead, I beg of you.'
    'Be quiet!' snapped the apparition. 'Pathos makes me ill.'
    The howl reverberated again, much closer this time.
    'We'd best leave,' the brother said.
    The apparition opened its jaws as if to laugh, then clacked them shut. 'No,' it muttered, 'not again.' It hobbled back to the Gate, pausing once to turn back and wave.
    The sister rolled her eyes.
    'Time to leave,' the brother repeated uneasily.
    'Yes, yes,' his sister said, eyeing Paran.
    The captain sighed, looking away. 'No final riddles, if you please.' When he looked back Oponn was gone. Once again he tried to sit up. Once again he failed.
    A new presence arrived, filling the air with tension, a smell of threat.
    Sighing, Paran craned his head around. He saw a pair of Hounds – massive hulking creatures, dark, tongues lolling as they sat, watching him. These are what killed the company in Itko Kan. These are the cursed, horrifying beasts. Both Hounds froze, heads hunching towards him, as if seeing the hatred in his eyes. Paran felt his heart go cold at their avid attention. He was slow to realize he had bared his teeth.
    A stain of shadow separated the two Hounds, the stain vaguely man-shaped and translucent. The shadow spoke. 'The one Lorn sent. I would have thought someone of ... ability. Though, it must be said, you died well.'
    'Evidently not,' Paran said.
    'Ah, yes,' the shadow said, 'and so it falls to me to complete the task. Busy hours, these.'
    Paran thought of Oponn's conversation with Hood's servant. Uncertainty. If a god fears anything ... 'The day you die, Shadowthrone,' he said quietly, 'I will be waiting for you on the other side of that gate. With a smile. Gods can die, can't