A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

imminent
death was not enough! Do you understand? Not
enough!'
    Mogora advanced on him.
    Iskaral Pust squealed, then slithered his way beneath the
mule. 'Come any closer, hag, and my servant will kick you!
Do you know how many fools die each year from a mule
kick? You'd be surprised.'
    The Dal Honese witch hissed at him, then promptly
collapsed into a swarm of spiders – that raced everywhere,
and moments later not one remained in sight.
    The High Priest, his eyes wide, looked about frantically,
then began scratching beneath his clothes. 'Oh! You awful
creature!'
    Mappo's bemused attention was drawn away by Crokus,
who had moved towards Barathol and Chaur.
    'Barathol,' the Daru said. 'There was no chance?'
    The man looked over, then shook his head. 'I'm sorry,
Cutter. But, he saved Chaur's life. Even dead, he saved
Chaur.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'The body was glowing,' Barathol said. 'Bright green. It's
how I saw them. Chaur was snagged in the bolt cloth – I
had to cut him free. I could not carry both of them to the
surface – I barely made it—'
    'It's all right,' Crokus said.
    'He sank, down and down, and the glow ebbed. The
darkness swallowed him. But listen, you got him close
enough – do you understand? Not all the way, but
close enough. Whatever happened, whatever saved us all,
it came from him.'
    Mappo spoke: 'Crokus – it is Cutter, now, yes? Cutter,
who are you speaking about? Did someone else drown?'
    'No, Mappo. I mean, not really. A friend, he died – I,
well, I was trying to take his body to the island – it's where
he wanted to go, you see. To give something back.'
    Something. 'I believe your friend here is right, then,' the
Trell said. 'You brought him close enough. To make a
difference, to do what even death could not prevent him
doing.'
    'He was named Heboric Ghost Hands.'
    'I will remember that name, then,' Mappo said. 'With
gratitude.'
    'You ... you look different.' Cutter was frowning. 'Those
tattoos.' Then his eyes widened, and he asked what Mappo
feared he would ask. 'Where? Where is he?'
    Doors within the Trell that had cracked open suddenly
slammed shut once more. He looked away. 'I lost him.'
    'You lost him?'
    'Gone.' Yes, I failed him. I failed us all. He could not look
at the Daru. He could not bear it. My shame ...
    'Oh, Mappo, I am sorry.'
    You are ... what?
    A hand settled on his shoulder, and that was too much.
He could feel the tears, the grief flooding his eyes, running
down. He flinched away. 'My fault ... my fault ...'
     
    Spite stood watching for a moment longer. Mappo, the Trell.
Who walked with Icarium. Ah, he now blames himself. I
understand. My ... that is ... unfortunate. But such was our
intent, after all. And, there is the chance – the one chance I
most cherish. Icarium, he may well encounter my sister, before
all of this is done. Yes, that would be sweet, delicious, a taste I
could savour for a long, long time. Are you close enough, Envy,
to sense my thoughts? My ... desire? I hope so. But no, this
was not the time for such notions, alluring as they were.
    Aching still with wounds, she turned and studied the
wild, roiling clouds above Otataral Island. Blooms of
colour, as if flames ravaged the land, tongues of fire flickering
up those gargantuan jade arms, spinning from the
fingers. Above the seething dome, night was dimming
the penumbra of dust and smoke, where slashes of falling
matter still cut through every now and then.
    Spite then faced the west, the mainland. Whoever you are
... thank you.
     
    With a gasp, Paran opened his eyes, to find himself pitching
forward – sandy gravel rising fast – then he struck,
grunting with the impact. His arms felt like unravelled
ropes as he slowly dragged them up, sufficiently to push
himself onto his side, which let him roll onto his back.
    Above him, a ring of faces, all looking down.
    'High Fist,' Rythe Bude asked, 'did you just save the
world?'
    'And us with it?' Noto Boil added, then frowned. 'Never
mind that one, sir. After all, in answering the Fist's query,
the second is implicitly—'
    'Be quiet,' Paran said. 'If I saved the world – and by no
means would I make such a claim – I am already regretting
it. Does anyone have some water? With where I've just
come back from, I've got a rather unpleasant taste in my
mouth.'
    Skins sloshed into view.
    But Paran held up a hand. 'The east – how bad does it
look?'
    'Should have been much, much worse, sir,' Fist Rythe
Bude said. 'There's a real ruckus over there, but