A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

dispassionate regard – 'find us a healer. A good one.'
    The soldier standing behind the High Fist headed off.
    The warlord addressed the High Priestess. 'The difference between you and your goddess, woman, is faith. A simple thing, after all. You see only two options open to me. Indeed, so did the Sleeping Goddess, at first. She gave to me the weapon, and gave to me the freedom to choose. It has taken a long while for me to understand what else she gave to me. I have withheld acting, withheld making that choice, and thought myself a coward. Perhaps I still am, yet a small measure of wisdom has finally lodged itself in my head—'
    'Burn's faith,' K'rul said. 'That you would find a third choice.'
    'Aye. Her faith.'
    Artanthos reappeared with another Malazan, but Brood held out a hand to halt them. 'No, I will heal her myself. She was not to know, after all'
    'Too generous,' K'rul murmured. 'She abandoned her goddess long ago, Warlord.'
    'No journey is too long,' Brood replied, lowering himself to kneel before Rath'Burn.
    Itkovian had last seen High Denul unveiled by Destriant Karnadas, and that fraught with the infection poisoning the warrens. What he saw now was ... clean, unaffected, and appallingly powerful.
    K'rul rose suddenly, looked around.
    Rath'Burn gasped.
    The Elder God's odd actions drew Itkovian's attention, and he followed K'rul's gaze. To see that another group had arrived on the hilltop, standing at a distance to the right of the tarp. Captain Paran was the only one among the four newcomers that Itkovian recognized, and he was not the man at whom the Elder God was looking.
    A dark-skinned, tall and lean man, faintly smiling, was watching the proceedings from the back of the group, focused, it seemed, on Brood. After a moment, some instinct made him glance at K'rul. The man answered the Elder God's rapt attention with a slight, strangely uneven shrug – as if some invisible weight burdened his left shoulder.
    Itkovian heard K'rul sigh.
    Rath'Burn and Caladan Brood rose together, then. Her bones had been knitted. No swelling or bruising marred her bared forearms. She stood as if in shock, leaning against the warlord.
    'What is this?' Kallor demanded. 'That warren bore no sign of poison.'
    'Indeed,' K'rul smiled. 'It seems the illness has been pushed back from this location. Temporary, yet sufficient. Perhaps this is another lesson in the powers of faith ... which I shall endeavour to heed ...'
    Itkovian's eyes narrowed. He speaks with two meanings. One, for us. A deeper second meaning, for that man standing over there.
    A moment later the large, heavy-set woman standing beside Captain Paran approached the table.
    Seeing her, Kallor backed off a step.
    'Careless,' she drawled to the warlord, who spun at her words, 'dropping your hammer like that.'
    'Silverfox. We'd wondered if we would see you again.'
    'Yet you sent Korlat out to track me, Warlord.'
    'Only to ascertain your whereabouts and direction of travel. It appears she got lost, for she has yet to return.'
    'A temporary misdirection. My T'lan Ay now surround her and are guiding her back here. Unharmed.'
    'I am relieved to hear that. By your words, I assume that the Second Gathering has taken place.'
    'It has.'
    Whiskeyjack had seen Captain Paran and was approaching him for a private word. The tall, dark-skinned man moved to join them.
    'Tell us, then,' the warlord continued, 'has another army joined in the proceedings?'
    'My T'lan Imass have tasks before them that will require a journey to the Pannion Domin. To your advantage, should there be more K'Chain Che'Malle K'ell Hunters, for we will deal with them.'
    'Presumably, you've no intention of elaborating on these tasks that you mentioned.'
    'Warlord, they are private matters, and have no bearing on you or your war.'
    'Don't believe her,' Kallor growled. 'They want the Seer, for they know what he is – a Jaghut Tyrant.'
    Silverfox faced Kallor. 'And should you capture the Pannion Seer, what would you do with him? He is insane, his mind twisted by the taint of the Warren of Chaos and the Crippled God's manipulations. Execution is the only option. Leave that to us, for we exist to kill Jaghut—'
    'Not always,' Dujek interjected.
    'What do you mean?'
    'Did not one of your T'lan Imass accompany the Adjunct Lorn when she freed the Jaghut Tyrant south of Darujhistan?'
    Silverfox looked troubled. 'The Clanless One. Yes. An event I do not as yet understand. None the less, that Tyrant was awakened from