A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

saw
how the blackness engulfed those blazing stars, drowning
them one by one. Beneath the savage churning clouds
there was a figure. Dancing. And with each wild swing of
an arm more midnight power spun outward, up into the
growing stormcloud. She seemed to be a thousand or more
paces away, yet grew larger by the moment.
    He could see her mouth, gaping like a pit, from which
vile liquid gushed out, splashing down, spraying as she
twirled.
    Salind. Gods, what has happened to you?
    'She wants me,' Itkovian said. 'It is her need, you see.'
    'Her need?'
    'Yes. For answers. What more can a god fear, but a mortal
demanding answers?'
    'Send her away!'
    'I cannot. So, warrior, will you defend me?'
    'I cannot fight that!'
    'Then, my friend, I am lost.'
    Salind came closer, and as she did so she seemed to lose
focus in Seerdomin's eyes, her limbs smearing the air, her
body blurring from one position to the next. Her arms
seemed to multiply, and in each one, he now saw, she held
a weapon. Brown-stained iron, knotted wood trailing snags
of hair, daggers of obsidian, scythes of crimson bronze.
    Above her stained, weeping mouth, her eyes blazed with
insane fire.
    'Redeemer,' whispered Seerdomin.
    'Yes?'
    'Answer me one question. I beg you.'
    'Ask.'
    And he faced the god. 'Are you worth it?'
    'Am I worth the sacrifice you must make? No, I do not
think so.'
    'You will not beg to be saved?'
    Itkovian smiled. 'Will you?'
    No. I never have. He rose to his feet, found that the
tulwar remained in his hand. He hefted the weapon and
eyed Salind. Can I defy her need? Can I truly stand against
that? 'If not for your humility, Redeemer, I would walk
away. If not for your . . . uncertainty, your doubts, your humanity.'
    And, awaiting no reply from the god, he set out into her
path.
    The sudden hush within the Scour Tavern finally penetrated
Spinnock Durav's drunken haze. Blinking, he tilted his
head, and found himself looking up at his Lord.
    Who said, 'It is time, my friend.'
    'You now send me away?' Spinnock asked.
    'Yes. I now send you away.'
    Spinnock Durav reeled upright. His face was numb. The
world seemed a sickly place, and it wanted in. He drew a
deep breath.
    'My request pains you – why?'
    He could have told him then. He could have spoken of
this extraordinary blessing of love. For a human woman.
He could have told Anomander Rake of his failure, and in
so doing he would have awakened the Son of Darkness to
his sordid plight.
    Had he done all of this, Anomander Rake would have
reached a hand to rest light on his shoulder, and he would
have said, Then you must stay, my friend. For love, you must
stay – go to her, now. Now, Spinnock Durav. It is the last
gift within our reach. The last – did you truly believe I would
stand in the way of that? That I would decide that my need
was greater?
    Did you think I could do such a thing, when I come to you
here and now because of my own love? For you? For our
people?
    Go to her, Spinnock Durav. Go.
    But Spinnock Durav said nothing. Instead, he bowed
before his Lord. 'I shall do as you ask.'
    And Anomander Rake said, 'It is all right to fail, friend.
I do not demand the impossible of you. Do not weep at
that moment. For me, Spinnock Durav, find a smile to
announce the end. Fare well.'
    *
    The killing seemed without end. Skintick's sword arm
ached, the muscles lifeless and heavy, and still they kept
coming on – faces twisted eager and desperate, expressions
folding round mortal wounds as if sharp iron was a blessing
touch, an exquisite gift. He stood between Kedeviss and
Nenanda, and the three had been driven back to the
second set of doors. Bodies were piled in heaps, filling every
space of the chamber's floor, where blood and fluids formed
thick pools. The walls on all sides were splashed high.
    He could see daylight through the outer doors – the
morning was dragging on. Yet from the passage at their
backs there had been . . . nothing. Were they all dead in
there? Bleeding out on the altar stone? Or had they found
themselves somehow trapped, or lost with no answers – was
Clip now dead, or had he been delivered into the Dying
God's hands?
    The attackers were running out of space – too many
corpses – and most now crawled or even slithered into
weapon range.
    'Something's wrong,' gasped Kedeviss. 'Skintick – go
– we can hold them off now. Go – find out if . . .'
    If we're wasting our time. I understand. He pulled back,
one shoulder cracking into the frame of the