A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

astonishing rapidity, while others could
persist for extraordinarily long periods in seeming stasis.
    Thus, she believed she comprehended more than most,
yet found that she could do little with that knowledge.
Standing in the overgrown, battered yard, her cold unhuman
eyes fixed on the malformed shape squatting at the
edge of the largest sundered barrow, she could see through
to the chaos inside him, could see how it urged dissolution
within that complex matrix of flesh, blood and bone. Pain
radiated from his hunched, twisted back as she continued
studying him.
    He had grown aware of her presence, and fear whispered
through him, the sorcery of the Crippled God building. Yet
he was uncertain if she presented a threat. In the meantime,
ambition rose and fell like crashing waves around the
island of his soul.
    She could, she decided, make use of this one.
    'I am Hannan Mosag,' the figure said without turning.
'You . . . you are Soletaken. The cruellest of the Sisters,
accursed among the Edur pantheon. Your heart is betrayal.
I greet you, Sukul Ankhadu.'
    She approached. 'Betrayal belongs to the one buried
beneath, Hannan Mosag, to the Sister you once
worshipped. How much, Edur, did that shape your destiny,
I wonder? Any betrayals plaguing your people of late?
Ah, I saw that flinch. Well, then, neither of us should be
surprised.'
    'You work to free her.'
    'I always worked better with Sheltatha Lore than I did
with Menandore . . . although that may not be the case
now. The buried one has her . . . obsessions.'
    The Tiste Edur grunted. 'Don't we all.'
    'How long have you known your most cherished
protectress was entombed here?'
    'Suspicions. For years. I had thought – hoped – that I
would discover what remained of Scabandari Bloodeye
here as well.'
    'Wrong ascendant,' Sukul Ankhadu said, her tone droll.
'Had you got it right as to who betrayed whom back then,
you would have known that.'
    'I hear the contempt in your voice.'
    'Why are you here? So impatient as to add your power to
the rituals I unleashed below?'
    'It may be,' Hannan Mosag said, 'that we could work
together . . . for a time.'
    'What would be the value in that?'
    The Tiste Edur shifted to look up at her. 'It seems
obvious. Even now, Silchas Ruin hunts for the one I'd
thought here. I doubt that either you or Sheltatha Lore
would be pleased should he succeed. I can guide you onto
his trail. I can also lend you . . . support, at the moment of
confrontation.'
    'And in return?'
    'For one, we can see an end to your killing and eating
citizens in the city. For another, we can destroy Silchas
Ruin.'
    She grunted. 'I have heard that determination voiced
before, Hannan Mosag. Is the Crippled God truly prepared
to challenge him?'
    'With allies . . . yes.'
    She considered his proposal. There would be treachery,
but it would probably not occur until after Ruin was disposed
of – the game would turn over the disposition of the
Finnest. She well knew that Scabandari Bloodeye's power
was not as it once was, and what remained would be profoundly
vulnerable. 'Tell me, does Silchas Ruin travel
alone?'
    'No. He has a handful of followers, but of them, only one
is cause for concern. A Tiste Edur, the eldest brother of the
Sengar, once commander of the Edur Warriors.'
    'A surprising alliance.'
    'Shaky is a better way of describing it. He too seeks the
Finnest, and will, I believe, do all he can to prevent its
falling into Ruin's hands.'
    'Ah, expedience plagues us all.' Sukul Ankhadu smiled.
'Very well, Hannan Mosag. We are agreed, but tell your
Crippled God this: fleeing at the moment of attack,
abandoning Sheltatha Lore and myself to Silchas Ruin and,
say, making off with the Finnest during the fight, will prove
a fatal error. With our dying breaths, we will tell Silchas
Ruin all he needs to know, and he will come after the
Crippled God, and he will not relent.'
    'You will not be abandoned, Sukul Ankhadu. As for the
Finnest itself, do you wish to claim it for yourselves?'
    She laughed. 'To fight over it between us? No, we'd
rather see it destroyed.'
    'I see. Would you object, then, to the Crippled God's
making use of its power?'
    'Will such use achieve eventual destruction?'
    'Oh yes, Sukul Ankhadu.'
    She shrugged. 'As you like.' You must truly think me a fool, Hannan Mosag. 'Your god marches to war – he will need all
the help he can get.'
    Hannan Mosag managed his own smile, a twisted, feral
thing. 'He is incapable of marching. He does not even
crawl. The war comes to