A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

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of you – with whom you spoke, where you went, you know,
the usual things required.'
    'Required? For what?'
    'Why, preparatory, I imagine, to assassination, when that
killer's master deems it expedient.'
    Banaschar was suddenly shivering, the sweat cold and
clammy beneath his clothes. 'There is nothing political,' he
whispered, 'nothing that has anything to do with the
empire. There is no reason—'
    'Oh, but you have made it so, Banaschar. Do you forget?
Tayschrenn is being isolated. You are seeking to break that,
to awaken the Imperial High Mage—'
    'Why is he permitting it?' Banaschar demanded. 'He's no
fool—'
    A soft laugh. 'Oh no, Tayschrenn is no fool. And in that,
you may well have your answer.'
    Banaschar blinked in the gloom. 'I must meet with him,
Pearl.'
    'You have not yet convinced me.'
    A long silence, in which Banaschar closed his eyes, then
placed his hands over them, as if that would achieve some
kind of absolution. But only words could do that. Words,
uttered now, to this man. Oh, how he wanted to believe it
would ... suffice. A Claw, who would be my ally. Why? Because
the Claw has ... rivals. A new organization that has deemed it
expedient to raise impenetrable walls around the Imperial High
Mage. What does that reveal of that new organization? They see
Tayschrenn as an enemy, or they would so exclude him as to make
his inaction desirable, even to himself. They know he knows, and
wait to see if he finally objects. But he has not yet done so, leading
them to believe that he might not – during whatever is coming.
Abyss take me, what are we dealing with here?
    Banaschar spoke from behind his hands. 'I would ask you
something, Pearl.'
    'Very well.'
    'Consider the most grand of schemes,' he said. 'Consider
time measured in millennia. Consider the ageing faces of
gods, goddesses, beliefs and civilizations ...'
    'Go on. What is it you would ask?'
    Still he hesitated. Then he slowly lowered his hands, and
looked across, to that grey, ghostly face opposite him.
'Which is the greater crime, Pearl, a god betraying its
followers, or its followers betraying their god? Followers
who then choose to commit atrocities in that god's name.
Which, Pearl? Tell me, please.'
    The Claw was silent for a dozen heartbeats, then he
shrugged. 'You ask a man without faith, Banaschar.'
    'Who better to judge?'
    'Gods betray their followers all the time, as far as I can
tell. Every unanswered prayer, every unmet plea for
salvation. The very things that define faith, I might add.'
    'Failure, silence and indifference? These are the
definitions of faith, Pearl?'
    'As I said, I am not the man for this discussion.'
    'But are those things true betrayal?'
    'That depends, I suppose. On whether the god
worshipped is, by virtue of being worshipped, in turn
beholden to the worshipper. If that god isn't – if there is no
moral compact – then your answer is "no", it's not betrayal.'
    'To whom – for whom – does a god act?' Banaschar
asked.
    'If we proceed on the aforementioned assertion, the god
acts and answers only to him or herself.'
    'After all,' Banaschar said, his voice rasping as he leaned
forward, 'who are we to judge?'
    'As you say.'
    'Yes.'
    'If,' Pearl said, 'on the other hand, a moral compact does
exist between god and worshipper, then each and every
denial represents a betrayal—'
    'Assuming that which is asked of that god is in itself
bound to a certain morality.'
    'True. A husband praying his wife dies in some terrible
accident so that he can marry his mistress, for example, is
hardly something any self-respecting god would acquiesce
to, or assist in.'
    Banaschar heard the mockery in the man's voice, but
chose to ignore it. 'And if the wife is a tyrant who beats
their children?'
    'Then a truly just god would act without the necessity for
prayer.'
    'Meaning the prayer itself, voiced by that husband, is
also implicitly evil, regardless of his motive?'
    'Well, Banaschar, in my scenario, his motive is made
suspect by the presence of the mistress.'
    'And if that mistress would be a most loving and adoring
stepmother?'
    Pearl snarled, chopping with one hand. 'Enough of this,
damn you – you can wallow in this moral quandary all you
want. I don't see the relevance ...' His voice fell away.
    His heart smothered in a bed of ashes, Banaschar waited,
willing himself not to sob aloud, not to cry out.
    'They prayed but did not ask, nor beseech, nor plead,'
Pearl said. 'Their prayers were a demand. The betrayal ...
    was