A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

splinter of sympathy,
he had done more for Rhulad than any of the
Sengars – brothers, mother, father. More indeed than any
Tiste Edur. Is it any wonder none of you know happiness, Fear Sengar? You are all twisted branches from the same sick tree.
    There was no point in arguing this, of course. Seren
Pedac alone might understand, might even agree with all
that Udinaas had to say, but she wasn't interested in
actually being one of this party. She clung to the role of
Acquitor, a finder of trails, the reader of all those jealously
guarded maps in her head. She liked not having to choose;
better still, she liked not having to care.
    A strange woman, the Acquitor. Habitually remote.
Without friends . . . yet she carries a Tiste Edur sword. Trull Sengar's sword. Kettle says he set it into her hands. Did she understand the significance of that gesture? She must have. Trull Sengar
had then returned to Rhulad. Perhaps the only brother who'd
actually cared – where was he now? Probably dead .
    Fresh, night-cooled air flowed down the broad ramp,
moaned in the doorways situated every ten paces or so to
either side. They were nearing the surface, somewhere in
the saddleback pass – but on which side of the fort and its
garrison? If the wrong side, then Silchas Ruin's swords
would keen loud and long. The dead piled up in the wake
of that walking white-skinned, red-eyed nightmare, didn't
they just. The few times the hunters caught up with the
hunted, they paid with their lives, yet they kept coming,
and that made little sense.
    Almost as ridiculous as this mosaic floor with its glowing armies . Images of lizard warriors locked in war, long-tails
against short-tails, with the long-tails doing most of the
dying, as far as he could tell. The bizarre slaughter beneath
their feet spilled out into the adjoining rooms, each one, it
seemed, devoted to the heroic death of some champion – Fouled K'ell, Naw'rhuk A'dat and Matrons , said Silchas Ruin
as, enwreathed in sorcerous light, he explored each such
side chamber, his interest desultory and cursory at best. In
any case, Udinaas could read enough into the colourful
scenes to recognize a campaign of mutual annihilation,
with every scene of short-tail victory answered with a
Matron's sorcerous conflagration. The winners never won
because the losers refused to lose. An insane war .
    Seren Pedac was in the lead, twenty paces ahead, and
Udinaas saw her halt and suddenly crouch, one hand lifting.
The air sweeping in was rich with the scent of loam
and wood dust. The mouth of the tunnel was small, overgrown
and half blocked by angled fragments of basalt from
what had once been an arched gate, and beyond was
darkness.
    Seren Pedac waved the rest forward. 'I will scout out
ahead,' she whispered as they gathered about just inside the
cave mouth. 'Did anyone else notice that there were no
bats in that last stretch? That floor was clean.'
    'There are sounds beyond human hearing,' Silchas Ruin
said. 'The flow of air is channelled through vents and into
tubes behind the walls, producing a sound that perturbs
bats, insects, rodents and the like. The Short-Tails were
skilled at such things.'
    'So, not magic, then?' Seren Pedac asked. 'No wards or
curses here?'
    'No.'
    Udinaas rubbed at his face. His beard was filthy, and
there were things crawling in the snarls of hair. 'Just find
out if we're on the right side of that damned fort, Acquitor.'
    'I was making sure I wouldn't trip some kind of ancient
ward stepping outside, Indebted, something that all these
broken boulders suggests has happened before. Unless of
course you want to rush out there yourself.'
    'Now why would I do that?' Udinaas asked. 'Ruin gave
you your answer, Seren Pedac; what are you waiting for?'
    'Perhaps,' Fear Sengar said, 'she waits for you to be quiet.
We shall all, I suppose, end up waiting for ever in that
regard.'
    'Tormenting you, Fear, gives me my only pleasure.'
    'A sad admission indeed,' Seren Pedac murmured, then
edged forward, over the tumbled rocks, and into the night
beyond.
    Udinaas removed his pack and settled down on the
littered floor, dried leaves crunching beneath him. He
leaned against a tilted slab of stone and stretched out his
legs.
    Fear moved up to crouch at the very edge of the cave
mouth.
    Humming to herself, Kettle wandered off into a nearby
side chamber.
    Silchas Ruin stood regarding Udinaas. 'I am curious,' he
said after a time. 'What gives your life meaning, Letherii?'
    'That's odd. I was just