A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

second
book to close it.
    Tanno Spiritwalker Kimloc
     
    W ith silver tongs, the servant set another disk of
ground rustleaf atop the waterpipe. Felisin
Younger drew on the mouthpiece, waving the
servant away, watching bemused as the old woman – head
bowed so low her forehead was almost scraping the floor –
backed away on her hands and knees. More of Kulat's rules
of propriety when in the presence of Sha'ik Reborn. She
was tired of arguing about it – if the fools felt the need to
worship her, then so be it. After all, for the first time in her
life, she found that her every need was met, attended to
with fierce diligence, and those needs – much to her
surprise – were growing in count with every day that
passed.
    As if her soul was a vast cauldron, one that demanded
filling, yet was in truth bottomless. They fed her,
constantly, and she was growing heavy, clumsy with folds of
soft fat – beneath her breasts, and on her hips and behind,
the underside of her arms, her belly and thighs. And, no
doubt, her face as well, although she had outlawed the
presence of mirrors in her throne room and private
chambers.
    Food was not her only excess. There was wine, and
rustleaf, and, now, there was lovemaking. There were a
dozen servants among those attending her whose task it was
to deliver pleasure of the flesh. At first, Felisin had been
shocked, even outraged, but persistence had won out. More
of Kulat's twisted rules – she understood that now. His
desires were all of the voyeuristic variety, and many times
she had heard the wet click of the stones in his mouth from
behind a curtain or painted panel, as he spied on her with
lascivious pathos.
    She understood her new god, now. Finally. Bidithal had
been entirely wrong – this was not a faith of abstinence.
Apocalypse was announced in excess. The world ended in
a glut, and just as her own soul was a bottomless cauldron,
so too was the need of all humanity, and in this she was the
perfect representative. As they devoured all that
surrounded them, so too would she.
    As Sha'ik Reborn, her task was to blaze bright, and quick
–and then die. Into death, where lay the true salvation, the
paradise Kulat spoke of again and again. Oddly enough,
Felisin Younger struggled to imagine that paradise – she
could only conjure visions that matched what now
embraced her, her every want answered without hesitation,
without judgement. Perhaps it would be like that – for
everyone. But if everyone would know such an existence,
then where were the servants?
    No, she told Kulat, there needed to be levels of
salvation. Pure service in this world was rewarded with
absolute indolence in the other. Humility, self-sacrifice,
abject servitude, these were the ways of living that would
be measured, judged. The only difficulty with this notion –
which Kulat had readily accepted and converted into edicts
–was the position of Felisin herself. After all, was her
present indolence – her luxuriating in all the excesses
promised to others only following their deaths – to be
rewarded by an afterlife of brutal slavery, serving the needs
of everyone else?
    Kulat assured her she had no need to be concerned. In
life, she was the embodiment of paradise, she was the
symbol of promise. Yet, upon her death, there would be
absolution. She was Sha'ik Reborn, after all, and that was a
role she had not assumed by choice. It had been thrust
upon her, and this was the most profound form of servitude
of them all.
    He was convincing, although a tiny sliver of doubt
lodged deep inside her, a few thoughts, one tumbling after
the next: without excess I might feel better, about myself. I
would be as I once was, when I walked in the wild-lands with
Cutter and Scillara, with Greyfrog and Heboric Ghost Hands.
Without all these servants, I would be able to fend for myself,
and to see clearly that a measured life, a life tempered in
moderation, is better than all this. I would see that this is a
mortal paradise that cultivates flaws like flowers, that feeds only
deathly roots, that chokes all life from me until I am left with
... with this.
    This. This wandering mind. Felisin Younger struggled to
focus. Two men were standing before her. They had been
standing there for some time, she realized. Kulat had
announced them, although that had not been entirely
necessary, for she knew that they were coming; indeed, she
recognized both of them. Those hard, weathered faces, the
streaks of sweat through a layer of dust, the