A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

seem
to know more than they're letting on. The view seems to be
that this time the Emperor's search has drawn in a most
deadly haul.'
    'Well, I don't know nothing about that,' Ublala Pung
said, rubbing thoughtfully at the bristle on his chin. 'Only,
this pure blood has a stone sword. Chipped, like those old
spear-points people are selling in the Downs Market. It's
almost as tall as he is, and he's taller than me. I saw him
pick up a Letherii guard and throw him away.'
    'Throw him away?'
    'Like a small sack of . . . of mushrooms or something.'
    'So his temper is even worse than yours, then.'
    'Pure bloods know no fear.'
    'Right. So how is it you know about pure bloods?'
    'The Sereghal. Our gods, the ones I helped to kill, they
were fallen pure bloods. Cast out.'
    'So the one who has just arrived, he's the equivalent of
one of your gods, Ublala Pung? Please, don't tell me you're
planning on trying to kill him. I mean, he has a stone sword
and all.'
    'Kill him? No, you don't understand, Tehol Beddict. This
one, this pure blood, he is worthy of true worship. Not the
way we appeased the Sereghal – that was to keep them
away. Wait and see, wait and see what is going to happen.
My kin will gather, once the word spreads. They will
gather.'
    'What if the Emperor kills him?'
    Ublala Pung simply shook his head.
    They both looked over as Bugg appeared in the doorway,
in his arms the body of a naked woman.
    'Now really,' Tehol said, 'the pot's not nearly big enough.
Besides, hungry as I am, there are limits and eating
academics far exceeds them—'
    The manservant frowned. 'You recognize this woman?'
    'I do, from my former life, replete as it was with stern
tutors and the occasional subjects of youthful crushes and
the like. Alas, she looks much worse for wear. I had always
heard that the world of scholars was cut-throat – what
debate on nuances resulted in this, I wonder?'
    Bugg carried her over and set her down on his own sleeping
pallet.
    As the manservant stepped back, Ublala Pung stepped
close and struck Bugg in the side of the head, hard enough
to send the old man reeling against a wall.
    'Wait!' Tehol shouted to the giant. 'No more!'
    Rubbing at his temple, Bugg blinked up at Ublala Pung.
'What was that all about?' he demanded.
    'Tehol said—'
    'Never mind what I said, Ublala. It was but a passing
thought, a musing devoid of substance, a careless utterance
disconnected in every way from physical action. Never
intended—'
    'You said he needed boxing about the head, Tehol
Beddict. You asked me – because it'd got bigger or something,
so I needed to puncture it so it'd get smaller again. It
didn't look any bigger to me. But that's what you said. He
was above his situation, you said—'
    'Station, not situation. My point is – both of you – stop
looking at me like that. My point was, I was but voicing a
few minor complaints of a domestic nature here. Not once
suspecting that Ublala Pung would take me so literally.'
    'Master, he is Ublala Pung.'
    'I know, I know. Clearly, all the once-finely honed edges
of my intellect have worn off of late.' Then his expression
brightened. 'But now I have a tutor!'
    'A victim of the Patriotists,' Bugg said, eyeing Ublala
askance as he made his way over to the pot on the hearth.
'Abyss below, Master, this barely passes as muddy water.'
    'Aye, alas, in dire need of your culinary magic. The
Patriotists? You broke her out of prison?'
    'In a manner of speaking. I do not anticipate a city-wide
manhunt, however. She was to have been one of the ones
who simply vanished.'
    Ublala Pung grunted a laugh. 'They'd never find her if it
was a manhunt.'
    The other two men looked across at him.
    The half-blood Tarthenal gestured at the obvious. 'Look,
she's got breasts and stuff.'
    Bugg's tone was soft as he said to Tehol, 'She needs
gentle healing, Master. And peace.'
    'Well, no better refuge from the dreads of the world than
Tehol Beddict's abode.'
    'A manhunt.' Ublala laughed again, then shook his
head. 'Them Patriotists are idiots.'

CHAPTER EIGHT
    When stone is water, time is ice.
When all is frozen in place
fates rain down in fell torrent.
    My face revealed, in this stone that is water.
The ripples locked hard to its shape
a countenance passing strange.
    Ages will hide when stone is water.
Cycles bound in these depths
are flawed illusions breaking the stream.
    When stone is water, time is ice.
When all is frozen in place
our lives are stones in the torrent.
    And we rain down, rain down
like