A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

far end of the trench stopped him. 'Giant.'
    The tongue was Sunyd, the voice a child's. 'I have no words for you, lowlander,' Karsa growled.
    'I do not ask for words. I can feel you working on this Hood-damned tree. Will you succeed at whatever it is you are doing?'
    'I am doing nothing.'
    'All right, then. Must be my imagination. We're dying here, the rest of us. In a most terrible, undignified manner.'
    'You must have done great wrong—'
    The answering laugh was a rasping cough. 'Oh indeed, giant. Indeed. We're the ones who would not accept Malazan rule, so we held on to our weapons and hid in the hills and forests. Raiding, ambushing, making nuisances of ourselves. It was great fun. Until the bastards caught us.'
    'Careless.'
    'Three of you and a handful of your damned dogs, raiding an entire town? And you call me careless? Well, I suppose we both were, since we're here.'
    Karsa grimaced at the truth of that. 'What is it you want, lowlander?'
    'Your strength, giant. There are four of us over here who are still alive, though I alone am still conscious ... and very nearly sane. Sane enough, that is, to comprehend the fullest ignobility of my fate.'
    'You talk too much.'
    'For not much longer, I assure you. Can you lift this log, giant? Or spin it over a few times?'
    Karsa was silent for a long moment. 'What would that achieve?'
    'It would shorten the chains.'
    'I have no wish to shorten the chains.'
    'Temporarily.'
    'Why?'
    'Spin the damned thing, giant. So our chains wrap around it again and again. So, with one last turn, you drag us poor fools at this end under. So we drown.'
    'You would have me kill you?'
    'I applaud your swift comprehension, giant. More souls to crowd your shadow, Teblor – that's how your kind see it, yes? Kill me, and I will walk with honour in your shadow.'
    'I am not interested in mercy, lowlander.'
    'How about trophies?'
    'I cannot reach you to take trophies.'
    'How well can you see in this gloom? I've heard that Teblor—'
    'I can see. Well enough to know that your right hand is closed in a fist. What lies within it?'
    'A tooth. Just fallen out. The third one since I've been chained down here.'
    'Throw it to me.'
    'I will try. I am afraid I'm somewhat... worse for wear. Are you ready?'
    "Throw.'
    The man's arm wavered as he lifted it.
    The tooth flew high and wide, but Karsa's arm shot out, chain snapping behind it, and he snatched the tooth from the air. He brought it down for a closer look, then grunted. 'It's rotted.'
    'Probably why it fell out. Well? Consider this, too. You will succeed in getting water right through the shaft, which should soften things up even more. Not that you've been up to anything down there.'
    Karsa slowly nodded. 'I like you, lowlander.'
    'Good. Now drown me.'
    'I will.'
    Karsa slipped down to stand knee-deep in the foul muck, the fresh wounds around his ankles stinging at the contact.
    'I saw them bring you down, giant,' the man said. 'None of the Sunyd are as big as you.'
    'The Sunyd are the smallest among the Teblor.'
    'Must be some lowlander blood from way back, I'd imagine.'
    'They have fallen far indeed.' Karsa lowered both arms, chains dragging, until his hands rested beneath the log.
    'My thanks to you, Teblor.'
    Karsa lifted, twisted the log, then set it down once more, gasping. 'This will not be quick, lowlander, and for that I am sorry.'
    'I understand. Take your time. Biltar slid right under in any case, and Alrute looks about to the next time. You're doing well.'
    He lifted the log once more, rolled it another half-twist.
Splashes and gurgling sounds came from the other end.
    Then a gasp. 'Almost there, Teblor. I'm the last. One more – I'll roll myself under it, so it pins me down.'
    'Then you are crushed, not drowned.'
    'In this muck? No worries there, Teblor. I'll feel the weight, true, but it won't cause me much pain.'
    'You lie.'
    'So what? It's not the means, it's the end that matters.'
    'All things matter,' Karsa said, preparing once more. 'I shall twist it all the way round this time, lowlander. It will be easier now that my own chains are shorter. Are you ready?'
    'A moment, please,' the man sputtered.
    Karsa lifted the log, grunting with the immense weight pulling down on his arms.
    'I've had a change of heart—'
    'I haven't.' Karsa spun the log. Then dropped it.
    Wild thrashing from the other end, chains sawing the air, then frantic coughing.
    Surprised, Karsa looked up. A brown-smeared figure flailed about, sputtering,