A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

destitution?'
    'We're running out of buyers. No hard coin, and I'm done
with credit, especially when it turns out the developers can't
sell the properties. So I've had to lay everyone off, including
myself.'
    'When did all this happen?'
    'Tomorrow.'
    'Typical. I'm always the last to hear. Is Ezgara hungry, do
you think?'
    'He ate more wax than you did – where do you think all
the waste goes?'
    'His or mine?'
    'Master, I already know where yours goes, and if Biri ever
finds out—'
    'Not another word, Bugg. Now, by my observations, and
according to the notations you failed to make, Ezgara has
consumed food equivalent in weight to a drowned cat. Yet
he remains tiny, spry, fit, and thanks to our wax lunch today
his heads no longer squeak when they swivel, which I take
to be a good sign, since now we won't be woken up a
hundred times a night.'
    'Master.'
    'Yes?'
    'How do you know how much a drowned cat weighs?'
    'Selush, of course.'
    'I don't understand.'
    'You must remember. Three years ago. That feral cat
netted in the Rinnesict Estate, the one raping a flightless
ornamental duck. It was sentenced to Drowning.'
    'A terrible demise for a cat. Yes, I remember now. The
yowl heard across the city.'
    'That's the one. Some unnamed benefactor took pity on
the sodden feline corpse, paying Selush a small fortune to
dress the beast for proper burial.'
    'You must be mad. Who would do that and why?'
    'For ulterior motives, obviously. I wanted to know how
much a drowned cat weighs, of course. Otherwise, how valid
the comparison? Descriptively, I've been waiting to use it for
years.'
    'Three.'
    'No, much longer. Hence my curiosity, and opportunism.
Prior to that cat's watery end, I feared voicing the comparison,
which, lacking veracity on my part, would invite
ridicule.'
    'You're a tender one, aren't you?'
    'Don't tell anyone.'
    'Master, about those vaults.'
    'What about them?'
    'I think extensions are required.'
    Tehol used the tip of his right index finger to stroke the
insect's back – or, alternatively, rub it the wrong way.
'Already? Well, how far under the river are you right now?'
    'More than halfway.'
    'And that is how many?'
    'Vaults? Sixteen. Each one three man-heights by two.'
    'All filled?'
    'All.'
    'Oh. So presumably it's starting to hurt.'
    'Bugg's Construction will be the first major enterprise to
collapse.'
    'And how many will it drag down with it?'
    'No telling. Three, maybe four.'
    'I thought you said there was no telling.'
    'So don't tell anyone.'
    'Good idea. Bugg, I need you to build me a box, to very
specific specifications which I'll come up with later.'
    'A box, Master. Wood good enough?'
    'What kind of sentence is that? Would good enough.'
    'No, wood, you know, the burning kind.'
    'Yes, would that wood will do.'
    'Size?'
    'Absolutely. But no lid.'
    'Finally, you're getting specific.'
    'I told you I would.'
    'What's this box for, Master?'
    'I can't tell you, alas. Not specifically. But I need it soon.'
    'About the vaults . . .'
    'Make ten more, Bugg. Double the size. As for Bugg's
Construction, hold on for a while longer, amass debt, evade
the creditors, keep purchasing materials and stockpiling
them in storage buildings charging exorbitant rent. Oh, and
embezzle all you can.'
    'I'll lose my head.'
    'Don't worry. Ezgara here has one to spare.'
    'Why, thank you.'
    'Doesn't even squeak, either.'
    'That's a relief. What are you doing now, Master?'
    'What's it look like?'
    'You're going back to bed.'
    'And you need to build a box, Bugg, a most clever box.
Remember, though, no lid.'
    'Can I at least ask what it's for?'
    Tehol settled back on his bed, studied the blue sky overhead
for a moment, then smiled over at his manservant –
who just happened to be an Elder God. 'Why, comeuppance,
Bugg, what else?'

CHAPTER TWO
    The waking moment awaits us all
upon a threshold or where the road turns
if life is pulled, sparks like moths inward
to this single sliver of time gleaming
like sunlight on water, we will accrete
into a mass made small, veined with fears
and shot through with all that's suddenly
precious, and the now is swallowed,
the weight of self a crushing immediacy,
on this day, where the road turns,
comes the waking moment.
    Winter Reflections
Corara of Drene
    The ascent to the summit began where the Letheriibuilt
road ended. With the river voicing its ceaseless
roar fifteen paces to their left, the roughly shaped
pavestones vanished beneath a black-stoned slide at the
base of a moraine. Uprooted trees