A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

strangely loose,
untethered. She no longer even tasted each sip, there had
been so many of them, the servant a silent ghost slipping in
to refill her goblet. 'I think he believes otherwise.'
    'I doubt it. It was some damned conspiracy with House
Orr that saw my father assassinated. And now it seems my
family is snared, trapped, and the games just go on and on.'
    This was a most unexpected side of the man and she did
not know how to respond to it. 'Such honesty humbles me,
Shardan Lim. For what it is worth, I will keep what I have
heard this night to myself.'
    'No need, but thank you anyway. In fact, I'd rather your
husband well understood how things stand. Hanut Orr is a
dangerous man. House Lim and House Vidikas share many
things, principal among them the stigma of disrespect on
the Council. Contempt, even. I have been curious,' and
now the look he turned upon her was sharp, searching.
'This venture of your husband's, ever pushing for this ironmonger
of his to attain membership in the Council – what
does Gorlas play at?'
    She blinked in confusion. 'I'm sorry, I have no idea.'
    'Might you find out? For me?'
    'I am not sure if I can – Gorlas does not confide in me
on such matters.'
    'Does he confide in you at all?' He went on without
waiting for her reply (not that she had one). 'Lady Vidikas
– Challice – he is wasting you, do you understand? I see
this – gods, it leaves me furious! You are an intelligent
woman, a beautiful woman, and he treats you like one
of these silver plates. Just one more possession, one more
piece in his hoard.'
    She set her goblet down. 'What do you want from me,
Shardan Lim? Is this some sort of invitation? A conspiracy
of love? Trysts behind my husband's back? While he travels
here and there, you and I meeting up in some squalid inn?
Getting intimate with each other's bodies, then lying back
and making pointless plans, endlessly lying to each other
about a future together?'
    He stared across at her.
    All the servants had with uncharacteristic discreetness
vanished into the side chambers, the kitchens, anywhere
but this dining room. Even the wine server had disappeared.
It occurred to Challice that Shardan's manservant
had probably been free with coin among the house staff
and that sly, silent man was now outside in the courtyard,
passing a pipe to eager-eyed menials, and they were all
laughing, snickering, rolling their eyes and worse.
    Too late, she realized, to change any of that. To scour the
lurid thoughts from their petty minds.
    'You describe,' Shardan Lim finally said, 'a most sordid
arrangement, with all the cynicism of a veteran in such
matters. And that I do not believe. You have been faithful,
Challice. I would not so care for you otherwise.'
    'Oh? Have you been spying on me, then?' It was a mocking
question that lost its carefree aura as the man voiced no
denial, and she suddenly felt chilled to the bone. 'Following
another man's wife around does not seem an honourable
thing to do, Shardan Lim.'
    'Love has no honour.'
    'Love? Or obsession? Is it not your own hunger for
possession that has you coveting a woman owned by
another man?'
    'He does not own you. That is my point, Challice. Such
notions of ownership are nothing but twisted lies disguised
as love. I have no interest in owning you. Nor in stealing
you away – if I had I would have found an excuse to duel
your husband long ago, and I would have killed him without
compunction. For you. To give you back your life.'
    'With you at the grieving widow's side? Oh, that would
look odd now, wouldn't it? Me leaning on the arm of the
man who murdered my husband. And you talk to me of
freedom?' She was, she realized, shocked sober. By what
this man was revealing to her; by the stunning depth of his
depraved desire.
    'Giving you back your life, I said.'
    'I will ask you again: what do you want?'
    'To show you what it means to be free. To cut your
chains. Take me to your bed if you so desire. Or don't. Send
me out of here with your boot to my backside. The choice
is yours. I want you to feel your freedom, Challice. In your
soul – let it burn, bright or dark as you like, but let it burn !
Filling you entirely.'
    Her breaths came fast, shallow. Oh, this was a most
unanticipated tactic of his. Give me nothing, woman. No,
give it to yourself instead. Make use of me. As proof. Of your
freedom. Tonight you can make yourself free again. The way
it felt when you were younger, when there was no husband
weighing down your arm. Before