A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Assassins, the god, sitting on a
shelf of stone that had slipped down from one wall, sitting,
alone, with his head in his hands.

EPILOGUE
    In a journey through the wastes, I found a god
kneeling as it pushed its hands into the sand
again and again, each time lifting them up
to watch the lifeless grains stream down.
    Dismounting from my weary horse, I walked
to stand before this apparition and its dusty hands
and watched for a time the cycles of their motion
when at last up it looked, eyes beseeching.
    'Where,' asked this god, 'are my children?'
    The Lost Believers
Fisher
     
    T he bite, then the blessed numbness of smoke in her
lungs, slowly released as Scillara moved up to lean
on the rail at Cutter's side. 'You look far away,' she
said, scanning the endless seas.
    He sighed, then nodded.
    'Thinking of her, were you? What was her name again?'
    'Apsalar.'
    She smiled, mostly to herself, drew in more smoke,
watched it whirl away from her nostrils and her pursed lips,
three streams becoming one. 'Tell me about her.'
    Cutter glanced back over a shoulder, and Scillara, to be
companionable, did the same. Barathol was at the stem,
Chaur seated almost at the huge blacksmith's boots. Iskaral
Pust and Mogora were nowhere in sight, likely in the cabin
below, arguing over supper's mysterious ingredients. The
black mule had vanished days ago, probably over the side
although Iskaral simply smiled at their enquiries.
    Mappo was at the bow, crouched down, knees drawn up.
Rocking, weeping. He had been that way since morning
and no-one seemed able to get through to find out what
assailed him.
    Cutter turned and stared back over the seas. Scillara
happily did the same, pulling hard on her pipe.
    And the Daru spoke. 'I was remembering back. After the
big fête in Darujhistan, there was another one, a smaller
one, celebrating the withdrawal of Malazan interests ... for
the time being. Anyway, it was in Coil's estate, just before
we left the city – gods below, it seems so long ago now ...'
    'You'd just met, then.'
    'Yes. Well, there was music. And Apsalar ... she
danced.' He looked across at her. 'She danced so beautifully,
all conversation stopped, everyone watched.' Cutter
shook his head. 'I couldn't even draw breath, Scillara ...'
    And yours is a love that will not die.
    So be it.
    'A good memory, Cutter. Hold on to it. Me, I could
never dance well, unless drunk or otherwise softened up.'
    'Do you miss those days, Scillara?'
    'No. It's more fun this way.'
    'What way?'
    'Well now, you see, I don't miss a thing any more. Not a
thing. That's very ... satisfying.'
    'You know, Scillara, I do envy your happiness.'
    She smiled across at him once more, a simple act that
took all her will, all her strength. So be it.
    Cutter said, 'I think ... I think I need to lie in your arms
right now, Scillara.'
    For all the wrong reasons. But there's this – in this
Hood-damned world, it's worth taking what you can get.
Whatever you can get.
    Three streams.
    Into one.
     
    Karsa Orlong turned about as Samar Dev moved up beside
him and settled down – a fierce gale was busy ripping off
the surface of the waves in the sea beyond, and the
hammering against the hull was incessant, as if eager spirits
sought to tear the craft to pieces. 'Well, woman, what has
got you looking so excited?'
    'Something's happened,' she said. 'Here, give me some of
that fur cloak, I'm chilled to the bone.'
    He yielded the bear fur. 'Take it.'
    'I bless your martyrdom, Karsa Orlong.'
    'A wasted effort, then,' he rumbled in reply. 'I will be
martyr to no-one, not even the gods.'
    'Just a saying, you thick-skulled oaf. But listen,
something happened. There was an assault. Hundreds of
Edur warriors and Letherii auxiliaries. And, another
champion.'
    Karsa grunted. 'Plenty of those in this fleet.'
    'But only that champion and his servant returned. And
one Letherii. The rest were slaughtered.'
    'Where was this battle? We have seen no other ships.'
    'Through a warren, Karsa Orlong. In any case, I heard
the name of the champion. And this is why you have to
listen to me. We have to get off this damned ship – if we
even come in sight of land between here and that empire,
we should go over the side. You said I was excited? Wrong.
I am terrified.'
    'And who is this terrifying champion, then?'
    'He is named Icarium. The Slayer—'
    'Whose servant is a Trell.'
    She frowned. 'No, a Gral. Do you know Icarium? Do you
know the awful legends surrounding him?'
    'I know nothing of legends,