A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

glow slowly rising.
    The Daru rolled onto his side. He had expected to see Apsalar. Instead, standing above him was an old man, extraordinarily tall, his white hair long and dishevelled, white-bearded though his skin was black as ebony, with eyes a deep, glittering amber – the sole source, Cutter realized with a shock – of the light.
    All around them, the seaweed was drying, shrivelling, as waves of heat radiated from the stranger.
    The ledge was only a few paces wide, a single lip of slick stone flanked by vertical walls stretching out to the sides.
    Sensation was returning to Cutter's legs, his clothes steaming now in the heat. He struggled into a sitting position. 'Thank you, sir,' he said in Malazan.
    'Your craft has littered the pool,' the man replied. 'I suppose you will want some of the wreckage recovered.'
    Cutter twisted to stare out on the water, but could see nothing. 'I had a companion—'
    'You arrived alone. It is probable that your companion drowned. Only one current delivers victims here. The rest lead only to death. On the isle itself, there is but one landing, and you did not find it. Few corpses of late, of course, given our distance from occupied lands. And the end of trade.'
    His words were halting, as if rarely used, and he stood awkwardly.
    She drowned? More likely she made it onto shore. Not for Apsalar the ignoble end that almost took me. Then again... She was not yet immortal, as subject to the world's cruel indifference as anyone. He pushed the thought away for the moment.
    'Are you recovered?'
    Cutter glanced up. 'How did you find me?'
    A shrug. 'It is my task. Now, if you can walk, it is time to leave.'
    The Daru pushed himself to his feet. His clothing was
almost dry. 'You possess unusual gifts,' he observed. 'I am named ... Cutter.'
    'You may call me Darist. We must not delay. The very presence of life in this place risks his awakening.'
    The ancient Tiste Andii turned to face the stone wall. At a gesture, a doorway appeared, beyond which were stone stairs leading upward. 'That which survived the wrecking of your craft awaits you above, Cutter. Come.'
    The Daru set off after the man. 'Awakening? Who might awaken?'
    Darist did not reply.
    The steps were worn and slick, the ascent steep and seemingly interminable. The cold water had stolen Cutter's strength, and his pace grew ever slower. Again and again Darist paused to await him, saying nothing, his expression closed.
    They eventually emerged onto a level hallway down which ran, along the walls, pillars of rough-skinned cedars. The air was musty and damp beneath the sharp scent of the wood. There was no-one else in sight. 'Darist,' Cutter asked as they walked down the aisle, 'are we still beneath ground level?'
    'We are, but we shall proceed no higher for the time being. The island is assailed.'
    'What? By whom? What of the Throne?'
    Darist halted and swung round, the glow in his eyes somehow deepening. 'A question carelessly unasked. What has brought you, human, to Drift Avalii?'
    Cutter hesitated. There was no love lost between the present rulers of Shadow and the Tiste Andii. Nor had Cotillion even remotely suggested actual contact be made with the Children of Darkness. They had been placed here, after all, to ensure that the true Throne of Shadow remain unoccupied. 'I was sent by a mage – a scholar, whose studies had led him to believe the island – and all it contained – was in danger. He seeks to discover the nature of that threat.'
    Darist was silent for a moment, his lined face devoid of expression. Then he said, 'What is this scholar's name?'
    'Uh, Baruk. Do you know him? He lives in Darujhistan—'
    'What lies in the world beyond the island is of no concern to me,' the Tiste Andii replied.
    And that, old man, is why you're in this mess. Cotillion was right. 'The Tiste Edur have returned, haven't they? To reclaim the Throne of Shadow. But it was Anomander Rake who left you here, entrusted with—'
    'He lives still, does he? If Mother Dark's favoured son is displeased with how we have managed this task, then he must come and tell us so himself. It was not some human mage who sent you here, was it? Do you kneel before the Wielder of Dragnipur? Does he renew his claims to the blood of the Tiste Andii, then? Has he renounced his Draconian blood?'
    'I wouldn't know—'
    'Does he now appear as an old man — older by far than me? Ah, I see by your face the truth of it. He has not. Well, you may go back to him and tell