A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

painful phrases sounded
like justifications for both. Future blended with the past,
a swirling vortex with a tortured soul at its very heart. She
could not bear to listen.
    Obsession was a madness, a fever. When it clawed its way
to the surface, it was terrible to behold. It was impossible
not to see the damage it did, the narrowness of the treacherous
path one was forced to walk, as if between walls of
thorns, jutting knife blades. One misstep and blood was
drawn, and before long the poor creature was a mass of
wounds, streaked and dripping, blind to everything but
what waited somewhere ahead.
    And what if he found what he sought? What if he won
through in his final battle – whatever that might be? What
then for Traveller?
    It will kill him.
    His reason for living . . . gone.
    Gods below, I will not bear witness to such a scene. I dare
not.
    For I have my own obsessions . . .
    Traveller marched on in dark argument. She and Karsa
rode Havok, but even this frightening beast was starting,
shying as if something was bodily pushing against it. Head
tossed, hoofs stamped the packed ground.
    Finally, after the horse almost reared, Karsa uttered a low
snarl and reined in. 'Down, witch,' he said – as Traveller
once more stalked past – 'we will walk from here.'
    'But Havok—'
    'Can fend for himself. When I need him, we shall find
each other once more.'
    They dismounted. Samar stretched her back. 'I'm exhausted.
My head feels like a wet pot in a kiln – about to
explode. Karsa—'
    'Stay here if you will,' he said, eyes on Traveller's back.
'I will go on.'
    'Why? Wherever he's going, it's his battle, not yours. You
cannot help him. You must not help him, Karsa – you see
that, don't you?'
    He grimaced. 'I can guard his back—'
    'Why? We have journeyed together out of convenience.
And that's done, now. Can't you feel it? It's done. Take
one wrong step – cross his path – and he will drag out
that sword.' She brought her hands up and pressed hard
against her eyelids. Flashes of fire ignited her inner world.
No different from what she was seeing in the city before
them. She dropped her hands and blinked blearily at the
Toblakai. 'Karsa, in the name of mercy, let's turn away.
Leave him to . . . whatever's in Darujhistan.'
    'Witch, we have been following a trail.'
    'Sorry, what?'
    'A trail.' He glanced down at her. 'The Hounds.'
    She looked again at the city, even as a fireball ripped
upward and moments later thunder rolled through the
ground at their feet. The Hounds. They're tearing that city
apart. 'We can't go there! We can't walk into that !'
    In answer Karsa bared his teeth. 'I do not trust those
beasts – are they there to protect Traveller? Or hunt him
down in some deadly game in the streets?' He shook his
head. 'I'll not clip his heels, witch. We'll keep a respectable
distance, but I will guard his back.'
    She wanted to scream. You stupid, stubborn, obstinate, thick-skulled bastard! 'So who guards our backs?'
    Sudden blackness welled up inside her mind and she
must have reeled, for a moment later Karsa was holding her
up, genuine concern in his face. 'What ails you, Samar?'
    'You idiot, can't you feel it ?'
    'No,' he replied.
    She thought he lied then, but had no energy to
challenge him. That blackness had seemed vast, depthless,
a maw eager to devour her, swallow her down. And, most
horrifying of all, something about it was seductive. Slick
with sweat, her legs shaky beneath her, she held on to
Karsa's arm.
    'Stay here,' he said quietly.
    'No, it makes no difference.'
    He straightened suddenly, and she saw that he was facing
the way they had come. 'What – what is it?'
    'That damned bear – it's back.'
    She twisted round. Yes, there, perhaps a hundred paces
away, a huge dark shape. Coming no closer.
    'What's it want with me?' she asked in a whisper.
    'If you stay, you may find out, witch.'
    'No, I said. We'll follow Traveller. It's decided.'
    Karsa was silent for a moment, and then he grunted. 'I
am thinking . . .'
    'What?'
    'You wanted to know, earlier, who would be guarding
our backs.'
    She frowned, and then loosed a small gasp and squinted
once more at that monstrous beast. It was just . . . hovering,
huge head slowly wagging from side to side, pausing occasionally
to lift its snout in their direction. 'I wouldn't trust
that, Karsa, I wouldn't trust that at all.'
    He shrugged.
    But still she resisted, glaring now into the vault of night
overhead. 'Where's the damned moon, Karsa? Where in the
Abyss is