A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

grandmothers – they were all so angry with us. They took our clothes. Our sandals. They took everything from us, they were so angry. Then they punished us.'
    'And how did they do that?'
    'They nailed us to crosses.'
    Cotillion said nothing for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was strangely flat. 'You remember that, then.'
    'Yes. And I promise to do as I'm told. From now on. Whatever Mother says. I promise.'
    'Panek. Listen carefully to your uncle. You weren't punished for not doing what you were told. Listen – this is hard, I know, but try to understand. They hurt you because they could, because there was no-one there who was capable of stopping them. Your father would have tried – I'm sure he did. But, like you, he was helpless. We're here now, with you – your mother and Uncle Cotillion – we're here to make sure you'll never be helpless again. Do you understand?'
    Panek looked up at his mother. She clicked softly.
    'All right,' the boy said.
    'We'll teach each other, lad.'
    Panek frowned. 'What can I teach you?'
    Cotillion grimaced. 'Teach me what you see ... here, in this realm. Your ghost world, the Shadow Hold that was, the old places that remain—'
    'What you walk through unseeing.'
    'Aye. I've often wondered why the Hounds never run straight.'
    'Hounds?'
    'You'll meet them sooner or later, Panek. Cuddly mutts, one and all.'
    Panek smiled, revealing sharp fangs. 'I like dogs.'
    With a slight flinch, Cotillion said, 'I'm sure they'll like you in turn.' He straightened, faced Apt. 'You're right, you can't do this alone. Let us think on it, Ammanas and I.' He faced the lad again. 'Your mother has other tasks now. Debts to pay. Will you go with her or come with me?'
    'Where do you go, Uncle?'
    'The other children have been deposited nearby. Would you like to help me get them settled?'
    Panek hesitated, then replied, 'I would like to see them again, but not right away. I will go with Mother. The man who asked her to save us needs to be looked after – she explained that. I would like to meet him. Mother says he dreams of me, of when he first saw me.'
    'I'm sure he does,' Cotillion muttered. 'Like me, he is haunted by helplessness. Very well, until we meet again.' He shifted his attention one last time, stared long into Apt's eye. 'When I Ascended, Lady, it was to escape the nightmares of feeling...' He grimaced. 'Imagine my surprise that I now thank you for such chains.'
    Panek broke in. 'Uncle, do you have any children?'
    He winced, looked away. 'A daughter. Of sorts.' He sighed, then smiled wryly. 'We had a falling-out, I'm afraid.'
    'You must forgive her.'
    'Damned upstart!'
    'You said we must teach each other, Uncle.'
    Cotillion's eyes widened on the lad, then he shook his head. 'The forgiveness is the other way around, alas.'
    'Then I must meet her.'
    'Well, anything is possible—'
    Apt spoke.
    Cotillion scowled. 'That, Lady, was uncalled-for.' He turned away, wrapping his cloak about himself.
    After half a dozen strides he paused, glancing back. 'Give Kalam my regards.' A moment later shadows engulfed him.
    Panek continued staring. 'Does he imagine,' he asked his mother, 'that he now walks unseen?'
     
    The greased anchor chain rattled smoothly, slipping down into the black, oily water, and Ragstopper came to a rest in Malaz Harbour, a hundred yards from the docks. A scatter of dull yellow lights marked the lower quarter's front street, where ancient warehouses interspersed by ramshackle taverns, inns and tenement houses faced the piers. To the north was the ridge that was home to the city's merchants and nobles – the larger estates abutting the cliff wall and its switchback stairs that ascended to Mock's Hold. Few lights were visible in that old bastion, though Kalam could see a pennant flapping heavily in a high wind – too dark to make out its colours.
    A shiver of presentiment ran through him at the sight of that pennant. Someone's here . . . someone important.
    The crew were settling down behind him, grumbling about the late hour of arrival which would prevent them from immediately disembarking into the harbour streets. The Harbourmaster would wait until the morrow before rowing out to inspect the craft and ensure that the sailors were hale – free of infections and the like.
    The midnight bell had sounded its atonal note only minutes earlier. Salk Elan judged rightly, damn him.
    It had never been part of the plan, this stop in Malaz City. Kalam had originally intended to