A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

to flee. But no escape is
possible. The quarry circles and circles, yet is drawn ever
closer to the trap. It pulls, it drags – the creature screams,
but no succour is possible – none but my mercy – and that is never free! ' She opened her eyes, and saw a smudge of mist
bound within the confines of the inscribed pattern. 'I have
you! Ghost, spy – show yourself!'
    Soft laughter.
    The mist spun, wavered, then settled once more, tendrils
reaching out tentatively – beyond the carved borders.
    Feather Witch gasped. 'You mock me with your power –
yet, coward that you are, you dare not show yourself.'
    'Dear girl, this game will eat you alive.' The words, the
faintest whisper – the touch of breath along both ears. She
started, glared about, sensed a presence behind her and
spun round – no-one.
    'Who is here?' she demanded.
    'Beware the gathering of names . . . it is . . .
premature . . .'
    'Name yourself, ghost! I command it.'
    'Oh, compulsion is ever the weapon of the undeserving.
Let us instead bargain in faith. That severed finger you
keep round your neck, Caster, what do you intend with it?'
    She clutched at the object. 'I will not tell you—'
    'Then I in turn will reveal to you the same – nothing.'
    She hesitated. 'Can you not guess?'
    'Ah, and have I guessed correctly?'
    'Yes.'
    'Premature.'
    'I am biding my time, ghost – I am no fool.'
    'No indeed,' the ghost replied. 'Even so, let us extend the
bargain—'
    'Why? You have revealed nothing of yourself—'
    'Patience. Caster of the Tiles, await my . . . encouragement.
Before you do what you intend. Await me, and I will
assist you.'
    She snorted. 'You are a ghost. You have no power—'
    'I am a ghost, and that is precisely why I have power. For
what you seek, that is.'
    'Why should I believe you? Why should I agree to anything
you suggest?'
    'Very well, my part of the bargain. You speak now with
Kuru Qan, once Ceda to King Ezgara Diskanar.'
    'Slain by Trull Sengar . . .'
    Something like a chuckle. 'Well, someone needed to
thrust the spear . . .'
    'You knew it was coming?'
    'Knowing and being able to do something about it are
two different matters, Caster of the Tiles. In any case, lay
the true blame at the Errant's feet. And I admit, I am of a
mind to call him out on that, eventually. But like you, I
understand the necessity of biding one's time. Have we a
bargain?'
    She licked her lips, then nodded. 'We have.'
    'Then I shall leave you to your education. Be careful
when casting your tiles – you risk much by so revealing your
talents as a seer.'
    'But I must know—'
    'Knowing and being able to do something about it—'
    'Yes,' she snapped, 'I heard you the first time.'
    'You lack respect, girl.'
    'And be glad of it.'
    'You may have a point there. Worth some consideration,
I think.'
    'Do you now intend to spy on me my every moment
down here?'
    'No, that would be cruel, not to mention dull. When I
come here, you shall be warned – the wind, the mist, yes?
Now, witness its vanishing.'
    She stared down at the swirling cloud, watched as it
faded, then was gone.
    Silence in the chamber, the air still beyond her own
breath. Kuru Qan, the Ceda! See how I gather allies. Oh, this shall be sweet vengeance indeed!
    The waning sun's shafts of dusty light cut across the space
where the old temple had stood, although the wreckage
filling the lower half of that gap was swallowed in gloom.
Fragments of façade were scattered on the street – pieces of
rats in dismaying profusion. Edging closer, Samar Dev
kicked at the rubble, frowning down at the disarticulated
stone rodents. 'This is most . . . alarming,' she said.
    'Ah,' Taxilian said, smiling, 'now the witch speaks. Tell
me, what do you sense in this fell place?'
    'Too many spirits to count,' she murmured. 'And all of
them . . . rats.'
    'There was a D'ivers once, wasn't there? A terrible
demonic thing that travelled the merchant roads across
Seven Cities—'
    'Gryllen.'
    'Yes, that was its name! So, do we have here another
such . . . Gryllen?'
    She shook her head. 'No, this feels older, by far.'
    'And what of that bleeding? Of power?'
    'I'm not sure.' Glancing around, she saw a tall, cloaked
man leaning against a wall on the other side of the street,
watching them. 'Some things, long ago grinding to a halt,
should never be reawakened. Alas . . .'
    Taxilian sighed. 'You use that word a lot. "Alas". You are
too resigned, Samar Dev. You flee from your own curiosity
– I do not think you were always like