A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

Buried
for millennia, yet he did indeed live. Blood flowed in his
veins, thoughts rose grimed with the dust of disuse. When
he spoke, she could hear the weight of barrowstones. It was
unimaginable to her how a person could so suffer without
going mad.
    Then again, perhaps he was mad, something hidden
deep within him, either constrained by exigencies, or
simply awaiting release. As a killer – for that surely was
what he was – he was both thorough and dispassionate. As
if mortal lives could be reduced in meaning, reduced to
surgical judgement: obstacle or ally. Nothing else mattered.
    She understood the comfort of seeing the world in that
manner. The ease of its simplicity was inviting. But for her,
impossible. One could not will oneself blind to the complexities
of the world. Yet, for Silchas Ruin, such seeming
complexities were without relevance. He had found a kind
of certainty, and it was unassailable.
    Alas, Fear Sengar was not prepared to accept the hopelessness
of his constant assaults upon Silchas Ruin. The
Tiste Edur stood near the triangular portal they would soon
pass through, as if impatient with this rest stop. 'You think,'
he now said to Silchas Ruin, 'that I know virtually nothing
of that ancient war, the invasion of this realm.'
    The albino Tiste Andii's eyes shifted, fixed on Fear
Sengar, but Silchas Ruin made no reply.
    'The women remembered,' Fear said. 'They passed the
tales to their daughters. Generation after generation. Yes, I
know that Scabandari drove a knife into your back, there
on that hill overlooking the field of battle. Yet, was this the
first betrayal?'
    If he was expecting a reaction, he was disappointed.
    Udinaas loosed a low laugh from where he sat with his
back to the scaled wall. 'You two are so pointless,' he said.
'Who betrayed whom. What does it matter? It's not as if
we're relying on trust to keep us together. Tell me, Fear
Sengar – once-master of mine – does your brother have any
idea of who Ruin is? Where he came from? I would suggest
not. Else he would have come after us personally, with ten
thousand warriors at his back. Instead, they toy with us.
Aren't you even curious why?'
    No-one spoke for a half-dozen heartbeats, then Kettle
giggled, drawing all eyes to her. Her blink was owlish. 'They
want us to find what we're looking for first, of course.'
    'Then why block our attempts to travel inland?' Seren
demanded.
    'Because they know it's the wrong direction.'
    'How could they know that?'
    Kettle's small, dust-stained hands fluttered like bats in
the gloom. 'The Crippled God told them, that's how. The
Crippled God said it's not yet time to travel east. He's not
ready for open war, yet. He doesn't want us to go into the
wildlands, where all the secrets are waiting.'
    Seren Pedac stared at the child. 'Who in Errant's name
is the Crippled God?'
    'The one who gave Rhulad his sword, Acquitor. The true
power behind the Tiste Edur.' Kettle threw up her hands.
'Scabandari's dead. The bargain was Hannan Mosag's, and
the coin was Rhulad Sengar.'
    Fear stood with bared teeth, staring at Kettle with something
like terror in his eyes. 'How do you know this?' he
demanded.
    'The dead told me. They told me lots of things. So did
the ones under the trees, the trapped ones. And they said
something else too. They said the vast wheel is about to
turn, one last time, before it closes. It closes, because it has
to, because that's how he made it. To tell him all he
needs to know. To tell him the truth.'
    'Tell who?' Seren asked, scowling in confusion.
    'Him, the one who's coming. You'll see.' She ran over to
where Fear stood, took him by one hand and started
tugging. 'We need to hurry, or they'll get us. And if they get
us, Silchas Ruin will have to kill everyone.'
    I could strangle that child. But she pushed herself to her
feet once more.
    Udinaas was laughing.
    She was inclined to strangle him as well.
    'Silchas,' she said as she moved close, 'do you have any
idea what Kettle was talking about?'
    'No, Acquitor. But,' he added, 'I intend to keep
listening.'

CHAPTER THREE
    We came upon the fiend on the eastern slope of the
Radagar Spine. It was lying in a shallow gorge formed
by flash flooding, and the stench pervading the hot
air told us of rotting flesh, and indeed upon examination,
conducted with utmost caution on this, the very day
following the ambush on our camp by unknown
attackers, we discovered that the fiend was, while
still alive, mortally wounded. How to describe such
a demonic