A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Kalam's
eyes, an elaborate arrangement of some child's toys. If not
for the masses of torchlight closing in on the Centre Docks,
the faintly seen running figures in various streets and
avenues, and the distant cries of a city convulsing upon
itself, the panorama would look almost picturesque.
    Was he seeing the Malazan Empire's death-throes? On the
island where it began, so too, perhaps, would its fall be
announced, here, this night, in a chaotic, senseless maelstrom
of violence. The Adjunct crushed the rebellion in Seven Cities.
This should be a triumphal return. Laseen, what have you done?
Is this mad beast now broken free of your control?
    Civilization's veil was so very thin, he well knew. Casting
it aside required little effort, and even less instigation.
    There were enough thugs in the world – and those thugs
could well be wearing the raiment of a noble, or a Fist, or
indeed a priest's robes or a scholar's vestments – enough of
them, without question, who lusted for chaos and the
opportunities it provided. For senseless cruelty, for
the unleashing of hatred, for killing and rape. Any excuse
would suffice, or even none at all.
    Ahead of him, the Adjunct ascended without hesitation,
as though she was climbing a scaffold, at peace with what
the fates had decreed. Was he reading her true? Kalam did
not know.
    But the time was coming, very soon now, when he would
need to decide.
    And he hoped. He prayed. That the moment, when it
arrived, would make his choice obvious, indeed, inevitable.
Yet, a suspicion lurked that the choice would prove far
harsher than he now dared admit.
    Do I choose to live, or do I choose to die?
    He looked down to his right, at those four ships directly
below.
    She brought a lot of people with her, didn't she?
     
    Halfway to Raven Hill Park, Bottle drew up against a door,
his heart pounding, sweat dripping from his face. Sorcery
was roiling through every street. Mockra. Twisting the
thoughts of the unsuspecting and the gullible, filling skulls
with the hunger for violence. And lone figures making
their way against the tide were victims in the waiting – he
had been forced to take a roundabout route to this door,
along narrow choking alleys, down beneath North
Riverwalk, buried up to his ankles in the filthy mud of
Malaz River, where insects rose in voracious swarms. But at
last, he had arrived.
    He drew a knife and, fearful of making a louder noise,
scratched against the door. At the moment the street
behind him was empty, but he could hear riots beginning,
the splintering of wood, the shrill cry of a dying horse, and
everywhere throughout the city, dogs were now barking, as
if some ancient wolf memory had been awakened. He
scratched again.
    The door suddenly swung open. A tall, grey-haired
woman stared down at him, expressionless.
    'Agayla,' Bottle said. 'My uncle married your aunt's
husband's sister. We're family!'
    She stepped back. 'Get in here, unless you're of a mind
to get torn to pieces!'
    'I'm Bottle,' he said, following her into an apothecary thick
with the scents of herbs, 'that's not my real name, but—'
    'Oh, never mind all that. Your boots are filthy. Where
have you come from and why did you choose this night of
all nights to visit Malaz City? Tea?'
    Blinking, Bottle nodded. 'I'm from the Fourteenth Army,
Agayla—'
    'Well, that was silly of you, wasn't it?'
    'Excuse me?'
    'You should be hiding in the boats with all the rest, dear
boy.'
    'I can't. I mean, the Adjunct sent me—'
    She turned. 'To see me? Whatever for?'
    'No, it's not that. It was my idea to find you. I'm looking
for someone. It's important – I need your help.'
    Her back to him once more, she poured the herbal brew
into two cups. 'Come get your tea, Bottle.'
    As he stepped forward, Agayla quickly faced him again,
reached into the folds of his cloak and snatched free the
doll. She studied it for a moment, then, with a scowl, shook
the doll in front of Bottle's face. 'And what is this? Have
you any idea what you are dabbling in, child?'
    'Child? Hold on—'
    'Is this the man you need to find?'
    'Well, yes—'
    'Then you leave me no choice, do you?'
    'Sorry?'
    She stuffed the doll back into the folds of his cloak and
turned away once more. 'Drink your tea. Then we'll talk.'
    'You can help me?'
    'Save the world? Well, yes, of course.'
    Save the world? Now, Adjunct, you never mentioned that
part.
     
    Koryk rolled his shoulders to adjust the weight of the heavy
chain armour. Longsword and shield were