A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

passages, the cantilevered door swinging
shut noiselessly behind him. In his mind there was recrimination,
a seething torrent of anger at himself. He had
not imagined the full extent of depravity and slaughter conducted
by the Patriotists, and he was sorely tempted to
awaken himself, unleashing his fullest wrath upon these
unmitigated sadists.
    Of course, that would lead to unwarranted attention,
which would no doubt result in yet greater slaughter, and
one that made no distinction between those who deserved
death and those who did not. This was the curse of power,
after all.
    As, he well knew, Karos Invictad would soon discover.
    You fool, Invigilator. Who has turned his deadly regard upon you? Deadly, oh my, yes indeed.
    Though few might comprehend that, given the modestly
handsome, thoroughly benign features surrounding that
face.
    Even so, Karos Invictad. Tehol Beddict has decided that you must go.
    And I almost pity you.
    * * *
    Tehol Beddict was on his knees on the dirt floor of the
hovel, rummaging through a small heap of debris, when he
heard a scuffling sound at the doorway. He glanced over a
shoulder. 'Ublala Pung, good evening, my friend.'
    The huge half-blood Tarthenal edged into the chamber,
hunching beneath the low ceiling. 'What are you doing?'
    'A wooden spoon – or at least the fragment thereof.
Employed in a central role in the preparation of this morning's
meal. I dread the possibility that Bugg tossed it into
the hearth. Ah! Here, see that? A curdle of fat remains on
it!'
    'Looks like dirt to me, Tehol Beddict.'
    'Well, even dirt has flavour,' he replied, crawling over to
the pot simmering on the hearth. 'Finally, my soup acquires
subtle sumptuousness. Can you believe this, Ublala Pung?
Look at me, reduced to menial chores, even unto preparing
my own meals! I tell you, my manservant's head has grown
too large by far. He rises above his station, does Bugg.
Perhaps you could box him about the ears for me. Now, I
am not as indifferent as you think – there is the glow of
heightened excitement in your rather blunt, dogged
features. What has happened? Has Shurq Elalle returned,
then?'
    'Would I be here if she had?' Ublala asked. 'No, Tehol
Beddict. She is gone. Out to the seas, with all her pirated
young men. I was too big, you see. I had to sleep on the
deck, no matter the weather, and that was no fun – and
those pirates, they kept wanting to tie sails to me, laughing
as if that was funny or something.'
    'Ah well, sailors have simple minds, friend. And pirates
are failed sailors, mostly, taking simpledom to profound
extremes—'
    'What? I have news, you know.'
    'Do you now?'
    'I do.'
    'Can I hear it?'
    'Do you want to?'
    'Why yes, else I would not have asked.'
    'Really want to?'
    'Look, if you're not interested in telling me—'
    'No, I'm interested. In telling you. That is why I'm here,
although I will have some of that soup if you're offering.'
    'Ublala Pung, you are most welcome to this soup, but
first let me fish out this rag I fed into the broth, lest you
choke or something.'
    'Rag? What kind of rag?'
    'Well, squarish, mostly. I believe it was used to wipe
down a kitchen counter, thereby absorbing countless
assorted foodstuffs.'
    'Tehol Beddict, one of the pure blood has come to the
city.'
    'Is that your news?'
    The huge man nodded solemnly.
    'Pure blood?'
    Another nod.
    'So, a Tarthenal—'
    'No,' Ublala Pung cut in. ' Pure blood. Purer than any
Tarthenal. And he carries a stone sword. On his face are
the most terrifying tattoos, like a shattered tile. He is
greatly scarred and countless ghosts swirl in his wake—'
    'Ghosts? You could see ghosts following him around?'
    'See them? Of course not. But I smelled them.'
    'Really? So what do ghosts smell like? Never mind. A
Tarthenal who's more Tarthenal than any Tarthenal has
arrived in the city. What does he want?'
    'You do not understand, Tehol Beddict. He is a
champion. He is here to challenge the Emperor.'
    'Oh, the poor man.'
    'Yes. The poor man, but he's not a man, is he? He's a
Tiste Edur.'
    Tehol Beddict frowned across at Ublala Pung. 'Ah, we
were speaking of two different poor men. Well, a short time
earlier a runner from Rucket visited – it seems Scale House
collapsed during that earthquake. But it was not your
normal earthquake, such as never occurs around here anyway.
Ublala Pung, there is another champion, one far more
frightening than any pure blood Tarthenal. There is great
consternation among the Rat Catchers, all of whom