A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

suspicions.'
    'I didn't know we're destined for execution. Well, that
changes things – although I am not sure how.' She fell
silent; then, considering Taxilian's other words, she said,
'Go on.'
    Taxilian slowly leaned back, cradling the goblet in his
hands. 'Consider Ehrlitan, a city built on the bones of
countless others. In that, little different from the majority
of settlements across all Seven Cities. But this Letheras, it
is nothing like that, Samar Dev. No. Here, the older city
never collapsed, never disintegrated into rubble. It still
stands, following street patterns not quite obscured. Here and
there, the ancient buildings remain, like crooked teeth. I
have never seen the like, witch – it seems no regard whatsoever
was accorded those old streets. At least two canals cut
right through them – you can see the bulge of stonework on
the canal walls, like the sawed ends of long-bones.'
    'Peculiar indeed. Alas, a subject only an architect or a
mason would find a source of excitement, Taxilian.'
    'You still don't understand. That ancient pattern, that
mostly hidden gridwork and the remaining structures
adhering to it – witch, none of it is accidental.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'I should probably not tell you this, but among masons
and architects there are secrets of a mystical nature.
Certain truths regarding numbers and geometry reveal
hidden energies, lattices of power. Samar Dev, there are
such courses of energy, like twisted wires in mortar, woven
through this city. The collapse of Scale House revealed it to
my eyes: a gaping wound, dripping ancient blood – nearly
dead blood, I'll grant you, but undeniable.'
    'Are you certain of this?'
    'I am, and furthermore, someone knows . Enough to
ensure that the essential constructs, the buildings that form
a network of fulcra – the fixing-points to the lattice of
energy – they all remain standing—'
    'Barring this Scale House.'
    A nod. 'Not necessarily a bad thing – indeed, not
necessarily accidental , that collapse.'
    'Now you have lost me. That temple fell down on
purpose?'
    'I would not discount that. In fact, that accords precisely
with my suspicions. We approach a momentous event,
Samar Dev. For now, that is as far as I can take it.
Something is going to happen. I only pray we are alive to
witness it.'
    'You've done little to enliven my day,' she said, eyeing
her half-finished breakfast of bread, cheeses and unfamiliar
fruit. 'At the very least you can order us another carafe of
wine for your sins.'
    'I think you should run,' Taxilian said under his breath,
not meeting her eyes. 'I would, barring the event I believe
is coming. But as you say, my interest is perhaps mostly professional.
You, on the other hand, would do better to look
to your own life – to maintaining it, that is.'
    She frowned. 'It's not that I hold to an unreasoning faith
in the martial prowess of Karsa Orlong. There have been
enough hints that the Emperor has fought other great
champions, other warriors of formidable skill, and none
could defeat him. Nonetheless, I admit to a feeling of . . .
well, loyalty.'
    'Enough to join him at Hood's Gate?'
    'I am not sure. In any case, don't you imagine that we're
being watched? Don't you think that others have tried to
flee their fate?'
    'No doubt. But Samar Dev, to not even try . . .'
    'I will think on it, Taxilian. Now, I've changed my mind
– that second carafe of wine will have to wait. Let us walk
this fair city. I am of a mind to see this ruined temple for
myself. We can gawk like the foreigners we are, and the
Patriotists will think nothing of it.' She rose from her
seat.
    Taxilian followed suit. 'I trust you've already paid the
proprietor.'
    'No need. Imperial largesse.'
    'Generosity towards the condemned – that runs contrary
to my sense of this fell empire.'
    'Things are always more complex than they first seem.'
    Tracked by the eyes of a dozen patrons, the two left the
restaurant.
    The sun devoured the last shadows in the sand-floored
compound, heat rising in streaming waves along the length
of the rectangular, high-walled enclosure. The sands had
been raked and smoothed by servants, and that surface
would remain unmarred until late afternoon, when the
challengers in waiting would troop out to spar with each
other and gather – those who shared a language – to chew
and gnaw on these odd, macabre circumstances. Yet, leaning
against a wall just within the inner entranceway,
Taralack Veed watched Icarium move slowly alongside