A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

see, won't we? Begins, or ends. So. If the Barrow is in no danger of yielding, then why does this tile persist? Perhaps we but witness what is, whilst that restlessness promises what will be. Alarming.'
    'Ceda, have you visited the site of the Azath?'
    'I have. Both tower and grounds are unchanged. The Hold's manifestation remains steadfast and contained. Now, drag your gaze onward, Finadd. Next?'
    'A gate, formed of a dragon's gaping jaws.'
    'Fifth in the Hold of the Dragon. Gate. How does it relate to Barrow of the Azath? Does the Gate precede or follow? In the span of my life, this is the first time I have seen a tile of Dragon Hold in the pattern. We are witness – or shall be witness – to a momentous occasion.'
    Brys glanced at the Ceda. 'We are nearing Seventh Closure. It is momentous. The First Empire shall be reborn. King Diskanar shall be transformed – he shall ascend and assume the ancient title of First Emperor.'
    Kuru Qan hugged himself. 'The popular interpretation, aye. But the true prophecy, Finadd, is somewhat more ... obscure.'
    Brys was alarmed by the Ceda's reaction. Nor had he known that the popular interpretation was other than accurate. 'Obscure? In what way?'
    '"The king who rules at the Seventh Closure shall be transformed and so shall become the First Emperor reborn." Thus. Yet, questions arise. Transformed – how? And reborn – in the flesh? The First Emperor was destroyed along with the First Empire, in a distant land. Leaving the colonies here bereft. We have existed in isolation for a very long time, Finadd. Longer than you might believe.'
    'Almost seven thousand years.'
    The Ceda smiled. 'Language changes over time. Meaning twists. Mistakes compound with each transcribing. Even those stalwart sentinels of perfection – numbers – can, in a single careless moment, be profoundly altered. Shall I tell you my belief, Finadd? What would you say to my notion that some zeroes were dropped? At the beginning of this the Seventh Closure.'
    Seventy thousand years? Seven hundred thousand?
    'Describe for me the next four tiles.'
    Feeling slightly unbalanced, Brys forced his attention back to the floor. 'I recognize that one. Betrayer of the Empty Hold. And the tile that follows: White Crow, of the Fulcra. The third is unknown to me. Shards of ice, one of which is upthrust from the ground and grows bright with reflected light.'
    Kuru Qan sighed and nodded. 'Seed, last of the tiles in the Hold of Ice. Another unprecedented appearance. And the fourth?'
    Brys shook his head. 'It is blank.'
    'Just so. The divination ceases. Is blocked, perhaps, by events yet to occur, by choices as yet unmade. Or, it marks the beginning, the flux that is now, this very moment. Leading to the end, which is the last tile – Barrow. Unique mystery. I am at a loss.'
    'Has anyone else seen this, Ceda? Have you discussed your impasse with anyone?'
    'The First Eunuch has been informed, Brys Beddict. To ensure that he does not walk into the Great Meeting blind to whatever portents might arise there. And now, you. Three of us, Finadd.'
    'Why me?'
    'Because you are the King's Champion. It is your task to guard his life.'
    Brys sighed. 'He keeps sending me away.'
    'I will remind him yet again,' Kuru Qan said. 'He must surrender his love of solitude, or come to see no-one when he glances your way. Now, tell me what the queen incited her son to do in the old throne room.'
    'Incited? She claimed the very opposite.'
    'Unimportant. Tell me what your eyes witnessed, what your ears heard. Tell me, Brys Beddict, what your heart whispered.'
    Brys stared down at the blank tile. 'Hull may prove a problem,' he said in a dull voice.
    'This is what your heart whispered?'
    'It is.'
    'At the Great Meeting?'
    He nodded.
    'How?'
    'I fear, Ceda, that he might kill Prince Quillas Diskanar.'
    The building had once housed a carpenter's shop on the ground floor, with a modest collection of low-ceilinged residential rooms on the upper level, reached via a dropdown staircase. The front faced out onto Quillas Canal, opposite a landing where, presumably, the carpenter had received his supplies.
    Tehol Beddict walked around the spacious workshop, noting the holes in the hardwood floor where mechanisms had been fitted, hooks on walls for tools still identifiable by the faded outlines. The air still smelled of sawdust and stains, and a single worktable ran the full length of the wall to the left of the entrance. The entire front wall, he saw, was