A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

assay of such creatures. Since Lady Sedara was accompanying
the mission, no other details were available.
Presumably, she knew what she was looking for. Now,
Ganoes Paran, it is your turn.'
    His frown deepening, Paran walked closer to the
destroyed carriage. He studied the tears and gouges in
the copper sheathing on the roof. 'I'd always wondered
where they went,' he said, 'and, eventually, I realized where
they were going.' He faced Karpolan Demesand. 'I don't
think there's a guardian here. I think the travellers met on
this bridge, all headed the same way, and the misfortune
was with Darpareth and Sedara Orr. This carriage was
destroyed by two Hounds of Shadow.'
    'You are certain?'
    I am. I can smell them. My ... kin. 'We'll need to get this
moved to one side, over the edge, I suppose.'
    'One question,' Karpolan Demesand said. 'What
happened to the bodies?'
    'Hounds are in the habit of dragging and throwing their
victims. Occasionally, they feed, but for the most part they
take pleasure in the killing – and they would, at that time,
have been both enraged and exuberant. For they had
just been freed from Dragnipur, the sword of Anomander
Rake.'
    'Impossible,' the High Mage snapped.
    'No, just exceedingly difficult.'
    'How do you know all this?' Karpolan demanded.
    'Because I freed them.'
    'Then ... you are responsible for this.'
    Paran faced the huge man, his now hard, dangerous eyes.
'Much to my regret. You see, they should never have been
there in the first place. In Dragnipur. I shouldn't have been,
either. And, at the time, I didn't know where they would
escape to, or even that they would escape at all. It looked,
in fact, as though I'd sent them to oblivion – to the Abyss
itself. As it turned out,' he added as he faced the wreckage
once more, 'I needed them to do precisely this – I needed
them to blaze the trail. Of course, it would have been better
if they'd met no-one on the way. It's easy to forget just how
nasty they are ...
    Karpolan Demesand turned to his shareholders. 'Down,
all of you! We must clear the road!'
    'Captain,' Hedge muttered, 'you're really starting to
make me nervous.'
     
    The wreckage groaned, then slid over the edge, vanishing
into the mists. The shareholders, gathered at the side of the
bridge, all waited for a sound from below, but there was
none. At a command from Karpolan, they returned to their
positions on the Trygalle carriage.
    It seemed the High Mage was in no mood to conduct idle
conversation with Paran, and he caught the Jaghut
sorceress eyeing him sidelong a moment before she climbed
into the carriage. He sighed. Delivering unpleasant news
usually did this – he suspected if trouble arrived there
wouldn't be many helping hands reaching down for him.
He climbed into the saddle once more and gathered the
reins.
    They resumed their journey. Eventually, they began on
the downslope – the bridge was at least a league long. There
was no way to tell, unless one sought to climb beneath the
span, whether pillars or buttressing held up this massive
edifice; or if it simply hung, suspended and unanchored,
above a vast expanse of nothing.
    Ahead, something took shape in the mists, and as they
drew closer, they could make out a vast gateway that
marked the bridge's end, the flanking uprights thick at the
base and tapering as they angled inward to take –
precariously, it seemed – the weight of a huge lintel stone.
The entire structure was covered with moss.
    Karpolan halted the carriage in front of it and, as was his
custom, sent the two Pardu shareholders through that gateway.
When nothing untoward happened to them and they
returned to report that the way beyond was clear – as much
as they could make out, anyway – the carriage was driven
through.
    Only to halt just beyond, as the lead horses splashed into
the silty water of a lake or sea.
    Paran rode his horse down to the water's edge. Frowning,
he looked right, then left, eyes tracking the shoreline.
    From the carriage, Hedge spoke: 'Something wrong,
Captain?'
    'Yes. This lake is what's wrong.'
    'Why?'
    'It's not supposed to be here.'
    'How do you know?'
    Dismounting, Paran crouched by the water. No waves –
perfect calm. He cupped his hand and dipped it into the
cool, silty liquid. Raised it up, sniffed. 'Smells like rot. This
is flood water—'
    He was interrupted by an eerie, wailing cry, coming from
somewhere downshore.
    'Hood's breath!' Hedge hissed. 'The lungs that punched
that out are huge.'
    Straightening, Paran