A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

the ground. His voice when he spoke shocked the scout with its raw mournfulness. 'I can do nothing for her.'
    The cold, lifeless tone was gone, and for the first time Toc saw something of what hid behind that deathly, desiccated visage. 'I've never heard you speak in pain before, Tool. I didn't think—'
    'You heard wrong,' the T'lan Imass said, his tone once again devoid of inflection. 'Have you completed the fletching for your arrows, Toc the Younger?'
    'Aye, like you showed me. They're done, twelve of the ugliest-looking arrows I've ever had the pleasure of owning. Thank you, Tool. It's outrageous, but I am proud to own them.'
    Tool shrugged. 'They will serve you well.'
    'I hope you're right.' He rose with a grunt. 'I'll do the meal, then.'
    'That is Senu's task.'
    Toc squinted at the T'lan Imass. 'Not you, as well? They're Seguleh, Tool, not servants. While Lady Envy isn't here, I will treat them as travelling companions, and be honoured by their company.' He glanced over to find the two warriors staring at him. 'Even if they won't talk to me.'
    He took the hares from the T'lan Imass, crouched down beside the hearth. 'Tell me, Tool,' he said as he began skinning the first of the creatures, 'when you're out there hunting ... any sign of other travellers? Are we completely alone on this Lamatath Plain?'
    'I have seen no evidence of traders or other humans, Toc the Younger. Bhederin herds, antelope, wolves, coyotes, fox, hares and the occasional plains bear. Birds of prey and birds that scavenge. Various snakes, lizards—'
    'A veritable menagerie,' Toc muttered. 'Then how is it that every time I scan the horizons, I see nothing? Nothing. No beasts, no birds, even.'
    'The plain is vast,' Tool replied. 'Also, there are the effects of the Tellann warren which surrounds me – though that is much weakened at the moment. Someone has drawn on my life-force, almost to exhaustion. Ask me no questions regarding this. My Tellann powers none the less discourage mortal beasts. Creatures are given to avoidance when able. We are, however, being trailed by a pack of ay'-tog – yellow-haired wolves. But they yet remain shy. Curiosity may overcome that, eventually.'
    Toc's gaze returned to Baaljagg. 'Ancient memories.'
    'Memories of ice.' The T'lan Imass's cavern eyes were fixed on the Malazan. 'By this and your earlier words, I conclude that something has occurred – a binding of souls – between you and the ay. How?'
    'I'm not aware of any binding of souls,' Toc answered, still staring at the sleeping wolf. 'I was granted ... visions. We shared remembrances, I think. How? I don't know. There were emotions within it, Tool, enough to make one despair.' After a moment he returned to cleaning the scrawny creature beneath his hands.
    'Every gift is edged.'
    Toc grimaced as he gutted the animal. 'Edged. I suppose so. I'm beginning to suspect the truth of the legends – lose an eye to receive the gift of true vision.'
    'How did you lose your eye, Toc the Younger?'
    'A sizzling chunk from Moon's Spawn – that deathly rain when the Enfilade was in full swing.'
    'Stone.'
    Toc nodded. 'Stone.' Then he stopped, looked up.
    'Obelisk,' Tool said. 'In the ancient Deck of Holds, it was known as Menhir. Touched by stone, mortal – Chen're oral lich'fayle – there, on your brow. I give you a new name. Aral Fayle.'
    'I don't recall asking for a new name, Tool.'
    'Names are not for the asking, mortal. Names are earned.'
    'Huh, sounds like the Bridgeburners.'
    'An ancient tradition, Aral Fayle.'
    Hood's breath. 'Fine!' he snapped. 'Only I can't see that I've earned anything—'
    'You were sent into a Warren of Chaos, mortal. You survived – in itself an unlikely event – and travelled the slow vortex towards the Rent. Then, when Morn's portal should have taken you, it instead cast you out. Stone has taken one of your eyes. And the ay here has chosen you in the sharing of her soul. Baaljagg has seen in you a rare worthiness, Aral Fayle—'
    'I still don't want any new names! Hood's breath!' He was sweating beneath his worn, dust-caked armour. He searched desperately for a way to change the subject, to shift the conversation away from himself. 'What's yours mean, anyway? Onos T'oolan – what's that from?'
    'Onos is "clanless man". T' is "broken". Ool is "veined" while lan is "flint" and in combination T'oolan is "flawed flint".'
    Toc stared at the T'lan Imass for a long moment. 'Flawed flint.'
    'There are layers of meaning.'
    'I'd