A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

would have trouble following that path, Cotillion. Rallick's abilities are ... were—'
    'Formidable, yes. I do not think you need use the past tense when speaking of Rallick Nom, or Vorcan for that matter. No, I've no news... simply a suspicion.' He handed the knives back. 'You underestimate your own skills, Cutter, but perhaps that is for the best.'
    'I don't know where Apsalar's gone,' Cutter said. 'I don't know if she's coming back.'
    'As it has turned out, her presence has proved less vital than expected. I have a task for you, Cutter. Are you amenable to providing a service to your patron?'
    'Isn't that expected?'
    Cotillion was silent for a moment, then he laughed softly. 'No, I shall not take advantage of your ... inexperience, though I admit to some temptation. Shall we begin things on a proper footing? Reciprocity, Cutter. A relationship of mutual exchanges, yes?'
    'Would that you had offered the same to Apsalar.' Then he clamped his jaw shut.
    But Cotillion simply sighed. 'Would that I had. Consider this new tact the consequence of difficult lessons.'
    'You said reciprocity. What will I receive in return for providing this service?'
    'Well, since you'll not accept my blessing or any other investment, I admit to being at something of a loss. Any suggestions?'
    'I'd like some questions answered.'
    'Indeed.'
    'Yes. Such as, why did you and Shadowthrone scheme to destroy Laseen and the empire? Was it just a desire for revenge?'
    The god seemed to flinch within his robes, and Cutter felt unseen eyes harden. 'Oh my,' Cotillion drawled, 'you force me to reconsider my offer.'
    'I would know,' the Daru pressed on, 'so I can understand what you did ... did to Apsalar.'
    'You demand that your patron god justify his actions?'
    'It wasn't a demand. Just a question.'
    Cotillion said nothing for a long moment.
    The fire was slowly dying, embers pulsing with the breeze. Cutter sensed the presence of a second Hound somewhere in the darkness beyond, moving restlessly.
    'Necessities,' the god said quietly. 'Games are played, and what may appear precipitous might well be little more than a feint. Or perhaps it was the city itself, Darujhistan, that would serve our purposes better if it remained free, independent. There are layers of meaning behind every gesture, every gambit. I will not explain myself any further than that, Cutter.'
    'Do – do you regret what you did?'
    'You are indeed fearless, aren't you? Regret? Yes. Many, many regrets. One day, perhaps, you will see for yourself that regrets are as nothing. The value lies in how they are answered.'
    Cutter slowly turned and stared out into the darkness of the sea. 'I threw Oponn's coin into the lake,' he said.
    'And do you now regret the act?'
    'I'm not sure. I didn't like their ... attention.'
    'I am not surprised,' Cotillion muttered.
    'I have one more request,' Cutter said, facing the god again. 'This task you shall set me on – if I am assailed during it, can I call upon Blind?'
    'The Hound?' The astonishment was clear in Cotillion's voice.
    'Aye,' Cutter replied, his gaze now on the huge beast. 'Her attention ... comforts me.'
    'That makes you rarer than you could imagine, mortal. Very well. If the need is dire, call upon her and she will come.'
    Cutter nodded. 'Now, what would you have me do on your behalf?'
     
    The sun had cleared the horizon when Apsalar returned. After a few hours' sleep, Cutter had risen to bury Rellock above the tide line. He was checking the boat's hull one last time when a shadow appeared alongside his own.
    'You had visitors,' she said.
    He squinted up at her, studied her dark, depthless eyes. 'Aye.'
    'And do you now have an answer to my question?'
    Cutter frowned, then he sighed and nodded. 'I do. We're to explore an island.'
    'An island? Is it far?'
    'Middling, but getting farther by the moment.'
    'Ah. Of course.'
    Of course.
    Overhead, gulls cried in the morning air on their way out to sea. Beyond the shoals, their white specks followed the wind, angling southwestward.
    Cutter set his shoulder to the prow and pushed the craft back out onto the water. Then he clambered aboard. Apsalar joined him, making her way to the tiller.
    What now? A god had given him his answer.
     
    There had been no sunset in the realm the Tiste Edur called the Nascent for five months. The sky was grey, the light strangely hued and diffuse. There had been a flood, and then rains, and a world had been destroyed.
    Even in the wreckage, however, there was life.
    A