A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

were he not sick with homesickness and
even more miserable than you . . .'
    'Conversation. Is that what you call it? Then why are my
ears numb?'
    'You know, I too am impatient. I've not cast a curse on
anyone in a long time.'
    'Your squalling spirits do not frighten me,' Karsa Orlong
replied. 'And they have been squalling, ever since we made
the river. A thousand voices clamouring in my skull – can
you not silence them?'
    Sighing, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
'Toblakai . . . you will have quite an audience when you
clash swords with this Edur Emperor.'
    'What has that to do with your spirits, Samar Dev?'
    'Yes, that was too obscure, wasn't it? Then I shall be more
precise. There are gods in this city we approach. Resident
gods.'
    'Do they ever get a moment's rest?'
    'They don't live in temples. Nor any signs above the
doors of their residences, Karsa Orlong. They are in
the city, yet few know of it. Understand, the spirits shriek
because they are not welcome, and, even more worrying,
should any one of those gods seek to wrest them away from
me, well, there is little I could do against them.'
    'Yet they are bound to me as well, aren't they?'
    She clamped her mouth shut, squinted across at him in
the gloom. The hull thumped as the ship edged up alongside
the dock. She saw the glimmer of bared teeth, feral,
and a chill rippled through her. 'What do you know of
that?' she asked.
    'It is my curse to gather souls,' he replied. 'What are
spirits, witch, if not simply powerful souls? They haunt me
. . . I haunt them. The candles I lit, in that apothecary of
yours – they were in the wax, weren't they?'
    'Released, then held close, yes. I gathered them . . . after
I'd sent you away.'
    'Bound them into that knife at your belt,' Karsa said.
    'Tell me, do you sense the two Toblakai souls in my own
weapon?'
    'Yes, no. That is, I sense them, but I dare not approach.'
    'Why?'
    'Karsa, they are too strong for me. They are like fire in
the crystal of that flint, trapped by your will.'
    'Not trapped,' he replied. 'They dwell within because
they choose to, because the weapon honours them. They
are my companions, Samar Dev.' The Toblakai rose
suddenly, hunching beneath the ceiling. 'Should a god be
foolish enough to seek to steal our spirits, I will kill it.'
    She regarded him from half-closed eyes. Declarative
statements such as that one were not rare utterances from
Karsa Orlong, and she had long since learned that they
were not empty boasts, no matter how absurd the assertion
might have sounded. 'That would not be wise,' she said
after a moment.
    'A god devoid of wisdom deserves what it gets.'
    'That's not what I meant.'
    Karsa stooped momentarily to retrieve the dead rat, then
he headed for the hatch.
    She followed.
    When she reached the main deck, the Toblakai was
walking towards the captain. She watched as he placed the
sodden rat in the Letherii's hands, then turned away, saying,
'Get the hoists – I want my horse on deck and off this
damned hulk.' Behind him, the captain stared down at the
creature in his hands, then, with a snarl, he flung it over
the rail.
    Samar Dev contemplated a few quick words with the
captain, to stave off the coming storm – a storm that Karsa
had nonchalantly triggered innumerable times before on
this voyage – then decided it was not worth the effort. It
seemed that the captain concluded much the same, as a
sailor hurried up with a bucket of seawater, into which
the Letherii thrust his hands.
    The main hatch to the cargo hold was being removed,
while other hands set to assembling the winches.
    Karsa strode to the gangway. He halted, then said in a
loud voice, 'This city reeks. When I am done with its
Emperor, I may well burn it to the ground.'
    The planks sagged and bounced as the Toblakai
descended to the landing.
    Samar Dev hurried after him.
    One of two fully armoured guards had already begun
addressing Karsa in contemptuous tones. '—to be unarmed
whenever you are permitted to leave the compound, said
permission to be granted only by the ranking officer of the
Watch. Our immediate task is to escort you to your
quarters, where the filth will be scrubbed from your body
and hair—'
    He got no further, as Karsa reached out, closed his hand
on the guard's leather weapons harness, and with a single
heave flung the Letherii into the air. Six or more paces to
the left he sailed, colliding with three stevedores who had
been watching the proceedings. All four went down.
    Voicing an