A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

coast.
    Cutter found himself oddly comforted by that notion.
Kalam's cousin ... assassinations must run in the family. That
huge double-bladed axe hardly seemed an assassin's
weapon. He considered asking Barathol – getting from him
his version of what had happened at Aren all those years
ago – but the blacksmith was a reluctant conversationalist,
and besides, if he had his secrets he was within his right to
hold on to them. The way I hold on to mine.
    They set out again, Chaur trailing, stumbling every now
and then as if unfamiliar with footwear of any kind. But he
was smiling.
    'Damn these leaking tits,' Scillara said beside him.
    Cutter stared over at her, not knowing how he should
reply to that particular complaint.
    'And I'm running out of rustleaf, too.'
    'I'm sorry,' he said.
    'What have you to be sorry about?'
    'Well, it took me so long to recover from my wounds.'
    'Cutter, you had your guts wrapped round your ankles –
how do you feel, by the way?'
    'Uncomfortable, but I never was much of a rider. I grew
up in a city, after all. Alleys, rooftops, taverns, estate
balconies, that was my world before all this. Gods below, I
do miss Darujhistan. You would love it, Scillara—'
    'You must be mad. I don't remember cities. It's all desert
and dried-up hills for me. Tents and mud-brick hovels.'
    'There are caverns of gas beneath Darujhistan, and that
gas is piped up to light the streets with this beautiful blue
fire. It's the most magnificent city in the world, Scillara—'
    'Then why did you ever leave it?'
    Cutter fell silent.
    'All right,' she said after a moment, 'how about this?
We're taking Heboric's body ... where, precisely?'
    'Otataral Island.'
    'It's a big island, Cutter. Any place in particular?'
    'Heboric spoke of the desert, four or five days north and
west of Dosin Pali. He said there's a giant temple there, or
at least the statue from one.'
    'So you were listening, after all.'
    'Sometimes he got lucid, yes. Something he called the
Jade, a power both gift and curse ... and he wanted to give
it back. Somehow.'
    'Since he's now dead,' Scillara asked, 'how do you expect
him to do anything like returning power to some statue?
Cutter, how do we find a statue in the middle of a desert?
You might want to consider that whatever Heboric wanted
doesn't mean anything any more. The T'lan Imass killed
him, and so Treach needs to find a new Destriant, and if
Heboric had any other kind of power, it must have dissipated
by now, or followed him through Hood's Gate –
either way, there is nothing we can do about it.'
    'His hands are solid now, Scillara.'
    She started. 'What?'
    'Solid jade – not pure, filled with ... imperfections.
Flaws, particles buried deep inside. Like they were flecked
with ash, or dirt.'
    'You examined his corpse?'
    Cutter nodded.
    'Why?'
    'Greyfrog came back to life ...'
    'So you thought the old man might do the same.'
    'It was a possibility, but it doesn't look like it's going to
happen. He's mummifying – and fast.'
    Barathol Mekhar spoke: 'His funeral shroud was soaked
in salt water then packed in even more salt, Cutter. Keeps
the maggots out. A fist-sized bundle of rags was pushed
into the back of his throat, and a few other places besides.
The old practice was to remove the intestines, but the
locals have since grown lazier – there were arts involved.
Skills, mostly forgotten. What's done is to dry out the
corpse as quickly as possible.'
    Cutter glanced at Scillara, then shrugged. 'Heboric was
chosen by a god.'
    'But he failed that god,' she replied.
    'They were T'lan Imass!'
    A flow of smoke accompanied Scillara's words as she
said, 'Next time we get swarmed by flies, we'll know what's
coming.' She met his eyes. 'Look, Cutter, there's just us,
now. You and me, and until the coast, Barathol. If you want
to drop Heboric's body off on the island, that's fine. If those
jade hands are still alive, they can crawl back to their
master on their own. We just bury the body above the tideline
and leave it at that.'
    'And then?'
    'Darujhistan. I think I want to see this magnificent city
of yours. You said rooftops and alleys – what were you
there? A thief? Must have been. Who else knows alleys and
rooftops? So, you can teach me the ways of a thief, Cutter.
I'll follow in your shadow. Hood knows, stealing what we
can from this insane world makes as much sense as anything
else.'
    Cutter looked away. 'It's not good,' he said, 'following
anyone's shadow. There's better people there ... for you