A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

their bloodless touch.
    Raraku delivered the illusion that time stood motionless, the universe holding its breath. An insidious conceit. Beyond the Whirlwind's furious wall, the hourglasses were still turned. Armies assembled and began their march, the sound of their boots, shields and gear a deathly clatter and roar. And, on a distant continent, the Teblor were a people under siege.
    Karsa continued staring at the stone face of Urugal. You are not Teblor. Yet you claim to be our god. You awakened, there in the cliff, so long ago. But what of before that time? Where were you then, Urugal? You and your six terrible companions?
    A soft chuckle from across the clearing brought Karsa around.
    'And which of your countless secrets is this one, friend?'
    'Leoman,' Karsa rumbled, 'it has been a long time since you last left your pit.'
    Edging forward, the desert warrior glanced down at the snakes. 'I was starved for company. Unlike you, I see.' He gestured at the carved boles. 'Are these yours? I see two Toblakai – they stand in those trees as if alive and but
moments from striding forth. It disturbs me to be reminded that there are more of you. But what of these others?'
    'My gods.' He noted Leoman's startled expression and elaborated, 'The Faces in the Rock. In my homeland, they adorn a cliffside, facing onto a glade little different from this one.'
    Toblakai—'
    'They call upon me still,' Karsa continued, turning back to study Urugal's bestial visage once more. 'When I sleep. It is as Ghost Hands says – I am haunted.'
    'By what, friend? What is it your ... gods ... demand of you?'
    Karsa shot Leoman a glance, then he shrugged. 'Why have you sought me out?'
    Leoman made to say one thing, then chose another. 'Because my patience is at an end. There has been news of events concerning the Malazans. Distant defeats. Sha'ik and her favoured few are much excited ... yet achieve nothing. Here we await the Adjunct's legions. In one thing Korbolo Dom is right – the march of those legions should be contested. But not as he would have it. No pitched battles. Nothing so dramatic or precipitous. In any case, Toblakai, Mathok has given me leave to ride out with a company of warriors – and Sha'ik has condescended to permit us beyond the Whirlwind.'
    Karsa smiled. 'Indeed. And you are free to harass the Adjunct? Ah, I thought as much. You are to scout, but no further than the hills beyond the Whirlwind. She will not permit you to journey south. But at least you will be doing something, and for that I am pleased for you, Leoman.'
    The blue-eyed warrior stepped closer. 'Once beyond the Whirlwind, Toblakai—'
    'She will know none the less,' Karsa replied.
    'And so I will incur her displeasure.' Leoman sneered. 'There is nothing new in that. And what of you, friend? She calls you her bodyguard, yet when did she last
permit you into her presence? In that damned tent of hers? She is reborn indeed, for she is not as she once was—'
    'She is Malazan,' Toblakai said.
    'What?'
    'Before she became Sha'ik. You know this as well as I—'
    'She was reborn! She became the will of the goddess, Toblakai. All that she was before that time is without meaning—'
    'So it is said,' Karsa rumbled. 'Yet her memories remain. And it is those memories that chain her so. She is trapped by fear, and that fear is born of a secret which she will not share. The only other person who knows that secret is Ghost Hands.'
    Leoman stared at Karsa for a long moment, then slowly settled into a crouch. The two men were surrounded by snakes, the sound of slithering on sand a muted undercurrent. Lowering one hand, Leoman watched as a flare-neck began entwining itself up his arm. 'Your words, Toblakai, whisper of defeat.'
    Shrugging, Karsa strode to where his tool kit waited at the base of a tree. 'These years have served me well. Your company, Leoman. Sha'ik Elder. I once vowed that the Malazans were my enemies. Yet, from what I have seen of the world since that time, I now understand that they are no crueller than any other lowlander. Indeed, they alone seem to profess a sense of justice. The people of Seven Cities, who so despise them and wish them gone – they seek nothing more than the power that the Malazans took from them. Power that they used to terrorize their own people. Leoman, you and your kind make war against justice, and it is not my war.'
    'Justice?' Leoman bared his teeth. 'You expect me to challenge your words, Toblakai? I will not. Sha'ik Reborn