A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

thinking stone is stone.'
    'In our language, we possess many names for stone. Names that tell of its nature, names that describe its function, names for what has happened to it and what will happen to it, names for the spirit residing within it, names—'
    'All right, all right! I see your point. Why don't we talk about something else?'
    'Such as?'
    Toc glanced over at the other hill. Only Lady Envy's head and knees were visible above the tub's framework. The sunset blazed behind her. The two Seguleh, Mok and Thurule, stood guard over her, facing outward. 'Her.'
    'Of Lady Envy, I know little more than what I have already said.'
    'She was a ... companion of Anomander Rake's?'
    Tool resumed removing thin, translucent flakes of obsidian from what was quickly assuming the shape of a lanceolate arrowhead. 'At first, there were three others, who wandered together, for a time. Anomander Rake, Caladan Brood, and a sorceress who eventually ascended to become the Queen of Dreams. Following that event, dramas ensued – or so it is told. The Son of Darkness was joined by Lady Envy, and the Soletaken known as Osric. Another three who wandered together. Caladan Brood chose a solitary path at the time, and was not seen on this world for score centuries. When he finally returned – perhaps a thousand years ago – he carried the hammer he still carries: a weapon of the Sleeping Goddess.'
    'And Rake, Envy and this Osric – what were they up to?'
    The T'lan Imass shrugged. 'Of that, only they could tell you. There was a falling out. Osric is gone – where, no-one knows. Anomander Rake and Lady Envy remained companions. It is said they parted – argumentatively – in the days before the ascendants gathered to chain the Fallen One. Rake joined in that effort. The lady did not. Of her, this is the sum of my knowledge, soldier.'
    'She's a mage.'
    'The answer to that is before you.'
    'The hot bathwater appearing from nowhere, you mean.'
    Tool set the finished arrowhead down and reached for another blank. 'I meant the Seguleh, Toc the Younger.'
    The scout grunted. 'Ensorcelled – forced to serve her – Hood's breath, she's made them slaves!'
    The T'lan Imass paused to regard him. 'This bothers you? Are there not slaves in the Malazan Empire?'
    'Aye. Debtors, petty criminals, spoils of war. But, Tool, these are Seguleh! The most feared warriors on this continent. Especially the way they attack without the slightest warning, for reasons only they know—'
    'Their communication,' Tool said, 'is mostly non-verbal. They assert dominance with posture, faint gestures, direction of stance and tilt of head.'
    Toc blinked. 'They do? Oh. Then why haven't I, in my ignorance, been cut down long ago?'
    'Your unease in their presence conveys submission,' the T'lan Imass replied.
    'A natural coward, that's me. I take it, then, that you show no ... unease.'
    'I yield to no-one, Toc the Younger.'
    The Malazan was silent, thinking on Tool's words. Then he said, 'That oldest brother – Mok – his mask bears but twin scars. I think I know what that means, and if I'm right. . .' He slowly shook his head.
    The undead warrior glanced up, shadowed gaze not wavering from the scout's face. 'The young one who challenged me – Senu – was . . . good. Had I not anticipated him, had I not prevented him from fully drawing his swords, our duel might well have been a long one.'
    Toc scowled. 'How could you tell how good he was when he didn't even get his swords clear of their scabbards?'
    'He parried my attacks with them none the less.'
    Toc's lone eye slowly widened. 'He parried you with half-drawn blades?'
    'The first two attacks, yes, but not the third. I need only to study the eldest's movements, the lightness of his steps on the earth – his grace – to sense the full measure of his skill. Senu and Thurule both acknowledge him as their master. Clearly you believe, by virtue of his mask, that he is highly ranked among his own kind.'
    'Third, I think. Third highest. There's supposed to be a legendary Seguleh with an unmarked mask. White porcelain. Not that anyone has ever seen him, except the Seguleh themselves, I suppose. They are a warrior caste. Ruled by the champion.' Toc turned to study the two distant warriors, then glanced over a shoulder at Senu, who still knelt over the antelope not ten paces away. 'So what has brought them to the mainland, I wonder?'
    'You might ask the youngest, Toc.'
    The scout grinned at Tool. 'Meaning you're as curious as I