A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

of
her vision, rather than these tired features behind and to
either side that she had come to know all too well, and at
times, she had to admit, despise.
    The last ocean they had crossed was far in their wake
now, and for that she was profoundly relieved. The world
had proved . . . immense. Even the ancient Letherii charts
mapping the great migration route from the land of the
First Empire had revealed but a fraction of the vast expanse
that was this mortal realm. The scale had left them all
belittled, as if their grand dramas were without consequence,
as if true meaning was too thinly spread, too
elusive for a single mind to grasp. And there had been a
devastating toll paid for these fated journeys. Scores of
ships lost, thousands of hands dead – there were belligerent
and all too capable empires and peoples out there, few of
whom were reluctant to test the prowess and determination
of foreign invaders. If not for the formidable sorceries of the
Edur and the new cadres of Letherii mages, there would
have been more defeats than victories recorded in the
ledgers, and yet fewer soldiers and sailors to rest eyes once
more upon their homeland.
    Hanradi Khalag, Uruth and Tomad Sengar would have
dire news to deliver to the Emperor, sufficient to overwhelm
their meagre successes, and Yan Tovis was thankful
that she would not be present at that debriefing. She would
have more than enough to deal with in her own capacity,
besides. The Letherii Marines had been decimated –
families would need to be informed, death-pensions
distributed, lost equipment charged and debts transferred to
heirs and kin. Depressing and tedious work and she already
longed for the last scroll to be sealed and signed.
    As the stands of trees and undergrowth dwindled,
replaced by fisher shacks, jetties and then the walled estates
of the elite, she stepped back from the rail and looked
round the deck. Seeing Taralack Veed positioned near the
stern, she walked over.
    'We are very close now,' she said. 'Letheras, seat of the
Emperor, the largest and richest city on this continent.
And still your champion will not come on deck.'
    'I see bridges ahead,' the barbarian observed, looking
back up the length of the ship.
    'Yes. The Tiers. There are canals in the city. Did I not tell
you of the Drownings?'
    The man grimaced, then swung about once more and
spat over the stern rail. 'They die without honour and this
entertains you. What is it you would wish Icarium to see,
Twilight?'
    'He shall need his anger,' she replied in a low voice.
    Taralack Veed ran both hands over his scalp, flattening
back his hair. 'When he is next awakened, matters of
resolve will mean nothing. Your Emperor shall be
annihilated, and likely most of this sparkling city with him.
If you choose to witness, then you too will die. As will
Tomad Sengar and Hanradi Khalag.'
    'Alas,' she said after a moment, 'I will not be present to
witness the clash. My duties will take me back north, back
to Fent Reach.' She glanced across at him. 'A journey of
over a month by horseback, Taralack Veed. Will that be
distant enough?'
    He shrugged. 'I make no promises.'
    'But one,' she pointed out.
    'Oh?'
    'That he will fight.'
    'You do not know Icarium as I do. He may remain below,
but there is an excitement about him. Anticipation, now,
unlike any I have ever seen before. Twilight, he has come
to accept his curse; indeed, to embrace it. He sharpens his
sword, again and again. Oils his bow. Examines his armour
for flaws with every dawn. He has no more
questions for me, and that is the most ominous detail of all.'
    'He has failed us once,' she said.
    'There was . . . intervention. That shall not occur again,
unless your carelessness permits it.'
    At a gentle bend in the river, Letheras revealed itself,
sprawling up and back from the north shore, magnificent
bridges arching over garishly painted buildings and the haze
of innumerable cookfires. Domes and terraces, towers and
platforms loomed, edges blurred in the gold-lit smoke. The
imperial quays were directly ahead, just beyond a mole, and
the first dromons of the fleet were shipping oars and swinging
in towards berths. Scores of figures were gathering
along the waterfront, including a bristling procession
coming down from the Eternal Domicile, pennons and
standards wavering overhead – the official delegation,
although Yan Tovis noted that there were no Edur among
them.
    It seemed that Triban Gnol's quiet usurpation was all but
complete. She was not