A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

almost as tall as me. In the dead of night. Pounding on the door. If we're met with open arms, Karsa, it will be a miracle. Worse yet, there's not much likelihood of us sharing a common language—'
    'Too many words,' Karsa cut in.
    They had reached the base of the tower. There was no entrance on the seaward side. The trail curved round to the other side, a well-trod path of limestone dust. Huge slabs of the yellow rock lay in heaps – many of them appearing to have been dragged in from other places and bearing chisel and cut marks. The tower itself was constructed of identical material, though its gnarled aspect remained a mystery until Karsa and Torvald drew closer.
    The Daru reached out and ran his fingers along one of
the cornerstones. 'This tower is nothing but fossils,' he murmured.
    'What are fossils?' Karsa asked, studying the strange shapes embedded in the stone.
    'Ancient life, turned to stone. I imagine scholars have an explanation for how such transformation occurred. Alas, my education was sporadic and, uh, poorly received. Look, this one – it's a massive shell of some sort. And there, those look like vertebrae, from some snake-like beast...'
    'They are naught but carvings,' Karsa asserted.
    A deep rumbling laugh made them swing round. The man standing at the bend in the path ten paces ahead was huge by lowlander standards, his skin so dark as to seem black. He wore no shirt, only a sleeveless vest of heavy mail stiffened by rust. His muscles were vast, devoid of fat, making his arms, shoulders and torso look like they had been fashioned of taut ropes. He wore a belted loincloth of some colourless material. A hat that seemed made of the torn remnant of a hood covered his head, but Karsa could see thick, grey-shot beard covering the lower half of the man's face.
    No weapons were visible, not even a knife. His teeth flashed in a smile. 'Screams from the sea, and now a pair of skulkers jabbering in Daru in my tower's front yard.' His head tilted upward slightly to regard Karsa for a moment. 'At first I'd thought you a Fenn, but you're no Fenn, are you?'
    'I am Teblor—'
    'Teblor! Well, lad, you're a long way from home, aren't you?'
    Torvald stepped forward. 'Sir, your command of Daru is impressive, though I am certain I detect a Malazan accent. More, by your colour, I'd hazard you are Napan. Are we then on Quon Tali?'
    'You don't know?'
    'Alas, sir, I am afraid not.'
    The man grunted, then turned back up the trail, 'Carvings, ha!'
    Torvald glanced back at Karsa, then, with a shrug, set off after the man.
    Karsa followed.
    The door was situated on the inland side. The path forked in front of it, one trail leading to the tower and the other to a raised road that ran parallel to the coastline, beyond which was a dark band of forest.
    The man pushed open the door and ducked inside.
    Both Torvald and Karsa had involuntarily paused at the fork, staring up at the enormous stone skull that formed the lintel above the low doorway. It was as long as the Teblor was tall, running the entire width of the wall. The rows of dagger-like teeth dwarfed even that of a grey bear.
    The man reappeared. 'Aye, impressive, isn't it? I've collected most of the bastard's body, too – I should've guessed it would be bigger than I'd first thought, but it was the forearms I found, you see, and they're puny, so there I was picturing a beast no taller than you, Teblor, but with a head of equal size. No wonder they died out, I told myself. Of course, it's mistakes like these that teach a man to be humble, and Hood knows, this one's humbled me good. Come inside; I'm brewing some tea.'
    Torvald grinned up at Karsa. 'See what happens when you live alone?'
    The two entered the tower.
    And were stunned by what awaited them. The tower was hollow, with only a flimsy scaffold projecting out from the seaside wall, just below the lone window. The floor was a thick, crunching carpet of stone chips. Weathered poles reared up on all sides at various angles, joined by crossbeams here and there and festooned with ropes. This wooden framework surrounded the lower half of a stone skeleton, standing upright on two thick-boned legs – reminiscent of a bird's – with three-toed, hugely taloned feet. The tail was a chain of vertebrae, snaking up one of the walls.
    The man was seated near a brick-lined hearth beneath
the scaffold, stirring one of the two pots resting in the coals. 'See my problem? I built the tower thinking there'd be plenty of room to