A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

face
enlivened only by reflected firelight, 'you wing here and
there, seeking what?'
    'Instinct can set one on a path,' Tulas Shorn said, 'with
no destination in mind.' It raised both hands and seemed
to study them. 'I have thought to see life once more,
awakened within me. I do not know if such a thing is even
possible. Samar Dev, is such a thing possible? Can she
dream me alive once more?'
    'Can she – what? I don't know. Call me a priestess if you
like, but I don't worship Burn, which doesn't make me a
very good priestess, does it? But if she dreams death, then
she dreams life, too.'
    'From one to the other is generally in one direction only,'
Traveller observed. 'Hood will come for you, Tulas Shorn;
sooner or later, he will come to reclaim you.'
    For the first time, she sensed evasiveness in the Tiste
Edur as it said, 'I have time yet, I believe. Samar Dev, there
is sickness in the Sleeping Goddess.'
    She flinched. 'I know.'
    'It must be expunged, lest she die.'
    'I imagine so.'
    'Will you fight for her?'
    'I'm not a damned priestess!' She saw the surprise on
the faces of Karsa and Traveller, forced herself back from
the ragged edge of anger. 'I wouldn't know where to start,
Tulas Shorn.'
    'I believe the poison comes from a stranger's pain.'
    'The Crippled God.'
    'Yes, Samar Dev.'
    'Do you actually think it can be healed?'
    'I do not know. There is physical damage and then there
is spiritual damage. The former is more easily mended than
the latter. He is sustained by rage, I suspect. His last source
of power, perhaps his only source of power whilst chained
in this realm.'
    'I doubt he's in the negotiating mood,' Samar Dev said.
'And even if he was, he's anathema to the likes of me.'
    'It is an extraordinary act of courage,' said Tulas Shorn,
'to come to know a stranger's pain. To even consider such
a thing demands a profound dispensation, a willingness to
wear someone else's chains, to taste their suffering, to see
with one's own eyes the hue cast on all things – the terrible
stain that is despair.' The Tiste Edur slowly shook its head.
'I have no such courage. It is, without doubt, the rarest of
abilities.'
    None spoke then for a time. The fire ate itself, indifferent
to witnesses, and in its hunger devoured all that was
offered it, again and again, until night and the disinterest
of its guests left it to starve, until the wind stirred naught
but ashes.
    If Tulas Shorn sought amiable company, it should have
talked about the weather.
    In the morning, the undead Soletaken was gone. And so
too were Traveller's and Samar Dev's horses.
    'That was careless of us,' Traveller said.
    'He was a guest,' Samar Dev said, baffled and more than
a little hurt by the betrayal. They could see Havok, standing
nervously some distance off, as if reluctant to return
from his nightlong hunting, as if he had been witness to
something unpleasant.
    There was, however, no sign of violence. The picket
stakes remained where they had been pounded into the
hard ground.
    'It wanted to slow us down,' Traveller said. 'One of
Hood's own, after all.'
    'All right,' Samar Dev glared across at a silent Karsa Orlong,
'the fault was all mine. I should have left you two to
chop the thing to bits. I'm sorry.'
    But Karsa shook his head. 'Witch, goodwill is not something
that needs an apology. You were betrayed. Your
trust was abused. If there are strangers who thrive on such
things, they will ever remain strangers – because they have
no other choice. Pity Tulas Shorn and those like it. Even
death taught it nothing.'
    Traveller was regarding the Toblakai with interest, although
he ventured no comment.
    Havok was trotting towards them. Karsa said, 'I will
ride out, seeking new mounts – or perhaps the Edur simply
drove your beasts off.'
    'I doubt that,' Traveller said.
    And Karsa nodded, leaving Samar Dev to realize that he
had offered the possibility for her sake, as if in some clumsy
manner seeking to ease her self-recrimination. Moments
later, she understood that it had been anything but clumsy.
It was not her inward chastisement that he spoke to; rather,
for her, he was giving Tulas Shorn the benefit of the doubt,
although Karsa possessed no doubt at all – nor, it was clear,
did Traveller.
    Well then, I am ever the fool here. So be it. 'We'd best get
walking, then.'
    In setting out, they left behind a cold hearth ringed in
stones, and two saddles.
    *
    Almost two leagues away, high in the bright blue sky, Tulas
Shorn rode the freshening breeze,