A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

cannot use it. Why, then,
Cotillion of Shadow, do these brave mortals surrender their
lives here?'
    'Perhaps we but provide a feint,' Monok Ochem said, the
bonecaster's tone as inflectionless as Onrack's had been.
    'No,' Cotillion said. 'More than that. It is what they
would do upon making that discovery. They will unleash
the warren of Chaos in this place – in the chamber where
resides the First Throne. Monok Ochem, they shall destroy
it, and so destroy its power.'
    'Is such a deed cause for regret?' Onrack asked.
    Shaken, Cotillion had no reply.
    Monok Ochem pivoted to regard Onrack the Broken.
'This one speaks the words of the Unbound. He fights not
to defend the First Throne. He fights only to defend Trull
Sengar. He alone is the reason the Tiste Edur still lives.'
    'This is true,' Onrack replied. 'I accept no authority
other than my own will, the desires I choose to act upon,
and the judgements I make for myself. This, Monok
Ochem, is the meaning of freedom.'
    'Don't—' Trull Sengar said, turning away.
    'Trull Sengar?'
    'No, Onrack. Do you not see? You invite your own
annihilation, and all because I do not know what to do, all
because I cannot decide – anything. And so here I remain,
as chained as I was when you first found me in the
Nascent.'
    'Trull Sengar,' Onrack said after a moment, 'you fight to
save lives. The lives of these youths here. You stand in their
stead, again and again. This is a noble choice. Through
you, I discover the gift of fighting in defence of honour, the
gift of a cause that is worthy. I am not as I once was. I am
not as Monok Ochem and Ibra Gholan. Expedience is no
longer enough. Expedience is the murderer's lie.'
    'For Hood's sake,' Cotillion said to Monok Ochem, feeling
exasperated, brittle with frustration, 'can you not call
upon kin? A few hundred T'lan Imass – there must be some
lying around somewhere, doing nothing as is their wont?'
    The empty eyes remained ... empty. 'Cotillion of
Shadow. Your companion claimed the First Throne—'
    'Then he need only command the T'lan Imass to
attend—'
    'No. The others journey to a war. A war of self preservation'
    'To Hood with Assail!' Cotillion shouted, his voice
echoing wildly in the cavern. 'This is nothing but damned
pride! You cannot win there! You send clan after clan, all
into the same destructive maw! You damned fools – disengage! There is nothing worth fighting for on that
miserable nightmare of a continent! Don't you see? Among
the Tyrants there, it is nothing but a game!'
    'It is the nature of my people,' Onrack said – and
Cotillion could detect a certain tone in the words, something
like vicious irony – 'to believe in their own supreme
efficacy. They mean to win that game, Cotillion of Shadow,
or greet oblivion. They accept no alternatives. Pride? It is
not pride. It is the very reason to exist.'
    'We face greater threats—'
    'And they do not care,' Onrack cut in. 'This you must
understand, Cotillion of Shadow. Once, long ago by mortal
standards, now, your companion found the First Throne.
He occupied it and so gained command over the T'lan
Imass. Even then, it was a tenuous grasp, for the power of
the First Throne is ancient. Indeed, its power wanes.
Shadowthrone was able to awaken Logros T'lan Imass – a
lone army, finding itself still bound to the First Throne's
remnant power due to little more than mere proximity. He
could not command Kron T'lan Imass, nor Bentract, nor
Ifayle, nor the others that remained, for they were too
distant. When Shadowthrone last sat upon the First
Throne, he was mortal, he was bound to no other aspect.
He had not ascended. But now, he is impure, and this impurity
ever weakens his command. Cotillion, as your
companion loses ever more substance, so too does he lose
... veracity.'
    Cotillion stared at the broken warrior, then looked
over at Monok Ochem and Ibra Gholan. 'And these, then,'
he said in a low voice, 'represent ... token obedience.'
    The bonecaster said, 'We must seek to preserve our own
kind, Cotillion of Shadow.'
    'And if the First Throne is lost?'
    A clattering shrug.
    Gods below. Now, at last, I understand why we lost Logros's
undead army in the middle of the Seven Cities campaign. Why
they just ... left. He shifted his gaze back to Onrack the
Broken. 'Is it possible,' he asked, 'to restore the power of the
First Throne?'
    'Say nothing,' Monok Ochem commanded.
    Onrack's half-shattered head slowly turned to regard the
bonecaster. 'You do not compel me. I am unbound.'
    At