A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

can choose to free yourself of the burden. Karsa Orlong, our answer to you is simple: to fail is to reveal a flaw. Face that revelation, do not turn your back on it, do not make empty vows to never repeat your mistakes. It is done. Celebrate it! That is our answer, and indeed is the answer shown us by the Crippled God.'
    The tension drained from Karsa's shoulders. He drew a deep breath, released it slowly. 'Very well. To you, and to the Crippled God, I now give my answer.'
    Rippled stone made no silent passage through the air. Instead, it roared, like pine needles exploding into flame. Up, over Karsa's head, wheeling in a sliding circle that then swept down and across.
    The edge taking 'Siballe between left shoulder and neck. Bones snapping as the massive blade ploughed through, diagonally, across the chest, severing the spine, down and
through the ribcage, sweeping clear just above her right hip.
    She had lifted her own sword to intercept at some point, and it had shattered, flinging shards and slivers into the air – Karsa had not even felt the impact.
    He whipped the huge blade in a curving arc in his follow-through, lifting it to poise, suddenly motionless, over his head.
    The ruined form that was 'Siballe collapsed in clattering pieces onto the stone floor. The T'lan Imass had been cut in half.
    The remaining six had raised their own weapons, but none moved to attack.
    Karsa snarled. 'Come ahead, then.'
    'Will you now destroy the rest of us?' Urugal asked.
    'Her army of foundlings will follow me,' the Teblor growled, sneering down at 'Siballe. Then he glared up once more. 'You will leave my people – leave the glade. You are done with us, T'lan Imass. I have delivered you here. I have freed you. If you ever appear before me again, I will destroy you. Walk the dreams of the tribal elders, and I will come hunting you. And I shall not relent. I, Karsa Orlong, of the Uryd, of the Teblor Thelomen Toblakai, so avow.' He took a step closer, and the six T'lan Imass flinched. 'You used us. You used me. And, for my reward, what did you just offer?'
    'We sought—'
    'You offered a new set of chains. Now, leave this place. You have all you desired. Get out.'
    The six T'lan Imass walked towards the cave mouth. A momentary occluding of the sunlight spilling into the front cavern, then they were gone.
    Karsa lowered his sword. He looked down at 'Siballe.
    'Unexpected,' she said.
    The warrior grunted. 'I'd heard you T'lan Imass were hard to kill.'
    'Impossible, Karsa Orlong. We ... persist. Will you leave me here?'
    'There is to be no oblivion for you?'
    'Once, long ago, a sea surrounded these hills. Such a sea would free me to the oblivion you speak of. You return me to a fate – and a punishment – that I have spent millennia seeking to escape. I suppose that is apt enough.'
    'What of your new master, this Crippled God?'
    'He has abandoned me. It would appear that there are acceptable levels of imperfection – and unacceptable levels of imperfection. I have lost my usefulness.'
    'Another god that understands nothing of what it is to be a god,' Karsa rumbled, walking over to his pack.
    'What will you do now, Karsa Orlong?'
    'I go in search of a horse.'
    'Ah, a Jhag horse. Yes, they can be found to the southwest of here, on the odhan. Rare. You may be searching for a long time.'
    The Teblor shrugged. He loosened the strings that closed the mouth of the pack and walked over to the shambles that was 'Siballe. He lifted the part of her containing the head and right shoulder and arm.
    'What are you doing?'
    'Do you need the rest?'
    'No. What—'
    Karsa pushed her head, shoulder and arm into his pack, then drew the strings once more. He would need a harness and a scabbard for the sword, but that would have to wait. He shrugged into the pack's straps, then straightened and leaned the sword over his right shoulder.
    A final glance around.
    The hearth still raged with a sorcerous fire, though it had begun flickering more rapidly now, as if using up the last of its unseen fuel. He thought about kicking gravel over it to douse it, then shrugged and turned to the cave mouth.
    As he came to the entrance, two figures suddenly rose before him, blocking the light.
    Karsa's sword whipped across his path, the flat of the
blade thundering against both figures, sending them flying off the ledge.
    'Get out of my way,' the warrior growled, stepping out into the sunlight.
    He spared neither intruder another glance as he set off along the