A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

warrior
behind him. 'Sathbaro Rangar says we are close,' he said.
'He will open the gate soon – we have outstayed our
welcome in this realm in any case.'
    'What do you mean?' Taralack asked.
    'It would not do to be seen here, by its inhabitants. True,
we would be as apparitions to them, ghostly, simply one
more trudging line of soldiers. Even so, such witnessing
could create ... ripples.'
    'Ripples?'
    Ahlrada Ahn shook his head. 'I myself am unclear, but
our warlock is insistent. This realm is like the Nascent – to
open the way is to invite devastation.' He paused, then
said, 'I have seen the Nascent.'
    Taralack Veed watched the Edur walk on, halting to
speak every now and then with an Edur or Letherii.
    'He commands with honour,' Icarium said.
    'He is a fool,' the Gral said under his breath.
    'You are harsh in your judgement, Taralack Veed.'
    'He plays at deceit, Slayer, and they are all taken in, but
I am not. Can you not see it? He is different from the
others.'
    'I am sorry,' Icarium said, 'but I do not see as you do.
Different – how?'
    Taralack Veed shrugged. 'He fades his skin. I can smell
the compound he uses, it reminds me of gothar flowers,
which my people use to whiten deer hide.'
    'Fades ...' Icarium slowly straightened and looked back
down the line. Then he sighed. 'Yes, now I see. I have been
careless—'
    'You have been lost inside yourself, my friend.'
    'Yes.'
    'It is not good. You must ready yourself, you must remain
mindful, Slayer—'
    'Do not call me that.'
    'This too is inside yourself, this resistance to the truth.
Yes, it is a harsh truth, but only a coward would not face it,
would turn away and pretend to a more comforting falsehood.
Such cowardice is beneath you.'
    'Perhaps not, Taralack Veed. I believe I am indeed a
coward. And yet, this is the least of my crimes, if all that
you say of me is true—'
    'Do you doubt me?'
    'There is no hunger within me,' the Jhag said. 'No lust to
kill. And all that you set at my feet, all that you say I have
done – I recall nothing of it.'
    'So is the nature of your curse, my friend. Would that I
could confess, here and now, that I have deceived you.
There have been changes in my soul, and now I feel as if we
are trapped, doomed to our fate. I have come to know
you better than I ever have before, and I grieve for you,
Icarium.'
    The pale grey eyes regarded him. 'You have told me that
we have travelled together a long time, that we have made
these journeys of the spirit before. And you have been
fierce in your zeal, your desire to see me ... unleashed.
Taralack Veed, if we have been together for many years ...
what you now say makes no sense.'
    Sweat prickled beneath the Gral's clothes and he looked
away.
    'You claim Ahlrada Ahn is the deceiver among us.
Perhaps it takes a deceiver to know his kin.'
    'Unkind words from you, my friend—'
    'I no longer believe we are friends. I now suspect you are
my keeper, and that I am little more than your weapon.
And now you voice words of doubt as to its sharpness, as if
through mutual uncertainty we may step closer to one
another. But I will take no such step, Taralack Veed, except
back – away from you.'
    Bastard. He has pretended to be oblivious. But all the while,
he has listened, he has observed. And now closes upon the truth.
The weapon is clever – I have been careless, invited into being
dismissive, and if my words were themselves weapons, I forgot
that this Jhag knows how to defend himself, that he possesses
centuries of armour.
    He looked up as Ahlrada Ahn strode past them again,
heading for the front of the column. 'Soon,' the warrior
reminded them.
    The journey resumed.
     
    Captain Varat Taun, second to Atri-Preda Yan Tovis,
Twilight, waved his Letherii archers forward. He spat in an
effort to get the taste of mud from his mouth, but it was
hopeless. The sorcery of the Holds had been let loose here,
in coruscating waves of annihilation – the air stank of
it, and in the wind he could hear the echoes of ten
thousand soldiers dying, and the mud on his tongue was
that of pulverized flesh, gritty with fragments of bone.
    Yet perhaps there was a kind of gift in all of this, a
measure providing perspective. For, grim as the Letherii
Empire under the rule of the Tiste Edur had become, well,
there were still green hills, farms, and blue sky overhead.
Children were born to mothers and joyous tears flowed easy
down warm, soft cheeks, the eyes brimming with love ... ah, my darling wife, these memories of you