A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

yours?'
    Malachar's face darkened. 'Play such games with young Enias, but not with me—'
    'I am done with you, Liosan.' Onrack sheathed his sword and swung away.
    'You are done with us! Seneschal Jorrude! If Orenas has completed his ministrations, I humbly request your attention. The Lifeless One seeks to flee.'
    'I hear you, Malachar,' the seneschal rumbled, striding forward. 'Hold, Lifeless One! We have not yet released you. You will tell us what we wish to know, or you will be destroyed here and now.'
    Onrack faced the Liosan once more. 'If that was a threat, the pathos of your ignorance proves an amusing distraction. But I weary of it, and of you.'
    Four ivory scimitars lifted threateningly.
    Onrack drew his sword once more.
    And hesitated, his gaze drawn to something beyond them. Sensing a presence at their backs, the warriors turned.
    Trull Sengar stood fifteen paces away, the box of munitions at his feet. There was something odd about his smile. 'This seems an uneven fight. Friend Onrack, do you require assistance? Well, you need not answer, for it has arrived. And for that, I am sorry.'
    Dust swirled upward around the Tiste Edur. A moment later, four T'lan Imass stood on the muddy cobbles. Three held weapons ready. The fourth figure stood a pace behind and to Trull's right. This one was massively boned, its arms disproportionately long. The fur riding its shoulders was black, fading to silver as it rose up to surround the bonecaster's head in a mangled hood.
    Onrack allowed his sword's point to rest on the muddy cobbles once more. With his link, born of the Ritual, now severed, he could only communicate with these T'lan Imass by speaking out loud. 'I, Onrack, greet you, Bonecaster, and recognize you as from the Logros, as I once was. You are Monok Ochem. One of many chosen to hunt the renegades, who, as did those of my own hunt, followed their trail into this realm. Alas, I alone of my hunt survived the flood.' His gaze shifted to the three warriors. The clan leader, its torso and limbs tightly wrapped in the outer skin of a dhenrabi and a denticulated grey flint sword in its hands, was Ibra Gholan. The remaining two, both armed with bone-hafted, double-bladed axes of chalcedony, were of Ibra's clan, but otherwise unknown to Onrack. 'I greet you as well, Ibra Gholan, and submit to your command.'
    Bonecaster Monok Ochem strode forward with a heavy, shambling gait. 'You have failed the Ritual, Onrack,' it said with characteristic abruptness, 'and so must be destroyed.'
    'That privilege will be contested,' Onrack replied. 'These horse warriors are Tiste Liosan and would view me as their prisoner, to do with as they please.'
    Ibra Gholan gestured to his two warriors to join him and the three walked towards the Liosan.
    The seneschal spoke. 'We release our prisoner, T'lan
Imass. He is yours. Our quarrel with you is at an end, and so we shall leave.'
    The T'lan Imass halted, and Onrack could sense their disappointment.
    The Liosan commander regarded Trull for a moment, then said, 'Edur – would you travel with us? We have need of a servant. A simple bow will answer the honour of our invitation.'
    Trull Sengar shook his head. 'Well, that is a first for me. Alas, I will accompany the T'lan Imass. But I recognize the inconvenience this will cause you, and so I suggest that you alternate in the role as servant to the others. I am a proponent of lessons in humility, Tiste Liosan, and I sense that among you there is some need.'
    The seneschal smiled coldly. 'I will remember you, Edur.' He whirled. 'On your horses, brothers. We now leave this realm.'
    Monok Ochem spoke. 'You may find that more difficult than you imagine.'
    'We have never before been troubled by such endeavours,' the seneschal replied. 'Are there hidden barriers in this place?'
    'This warren is a shattered fragment of Kurald Emurlahn,' the bonecaster said. 'I believe your kind have remained isolated for far too long. You know nothing of the other realms, nothing of the Wounded Gates. Nothing of the Ascendants and their wars—'
    'We serve but one Ascendant,' the seneschal snapped. 'The Son of Father Light. Our lord is Osric.'
    Monok Ochem cocked its head. 'And when last has Osric walked among you?'
    All four Liosan visibly flinched.
    In his affectless tone, the bonecaster continued, 'Your lord, Osric, the Son of Father Light, numbers among the contestants in the other realms. He has not returned to you, Liosan, because he is unable to do so. Indeed, he