A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

'All that he has ever asked
of us, of me, and Spinnock Durav, and so many others, he
has given us in return. Each and every time. This . . . this is
his secret. Don't you understand, High Priestess? We served
the one who served us.'
    He closed his eyes then, as he felt another presence – one
he had never imagined he would ever feel again. And in
his mind, he spoke, 'For you, Mother, he did this. For us,
he did this. He has brought us all home. He has brought us
all home.'
    And she replied in his mind then, her voice rising from
the depths below, from the river where he had found his
strength. His strength to hold, one last time. As his Lord
had asked him to. As his Lord had known he would do.
She said, I understand. Come to me, then.
    The water between us, Endest Silann, is clear.
    The water is clear.
    *
    As the ruined, lifeless remnant that had once been Seerdomin
was flung to one side, Salind prepared to resume her
attack, at last upon the Redeemer himself—
    The god who had once been Itkovian – silent, wondering
witness to a defence of unimaginable courage – now
lifted his head. He could feel a presence. More than one.
A mother. A son. Apart for so long, and now they were entwined
in ways too mysterious, too ineffable, to grasp. And
then, in a flood, he was made to comprehend the truth of
gifts, the truth of redemption. He gasped.
    'I am . . . shown. I am shown . . .'
    And down he marched to meet her.
    'Thank you, Anomander Rake, for this unexpected gift.
My hidden friend. And . . . fare you well.'
    The Redeemer, on his barrow of worthless wealth, need
not stand outside, need not face Darkness. No, he could
walk forward now, into that realm.
    Down through the thinning, watery rain to where she
stood, uncertain, trembling, on the very edge of abandonment.
    He took Salind into his embrace.
    And, holding her close, he spoke these words: 'Bless you,
that you not be taken. Bless you, that you begin in your time
and that you end in its fullness. Bless you, in the name of the
Redeemer, in my name, against the cruel harvesters of the soul,
the takers of life. Bless you, that your life and each life shall be
as it is written, for peace is born of completion.'
    Against this, the Dying God had no defence. In this
embrace, the Dying God came to believe that he had not
marched to the Redeemer, but that the Redeemer had
summoned him. An invitation he could not have seen, nor
recognized. To heal what none other could heal.
    Here in this pure Darkness. At the very Gate of Mother
Dark, there was, in fact, no other possible place for rebirth.
    The Dying God simply . . . slipped away.
    And Salind, why, she felt soft in his arms.
    The Redeemer leaves judgement to others. This frees
him, you see, to cleanse all.
    And the water is clear between them.
    The ashes drifted down upon a still, silent scene. The
legions of chaos were gone from Dragnipur, their quarry
vanished. The wagon stood motionless, riven with fissures.
Draconus looked round and he could see how few of the
Chained were left. So many obliterated, devoured. His
gaze settled for a moment upon the patch of ground where
the demon Pearl had made its stand, where it had fallen,
defiant to the very end.
    He saw the soldier named Iskar Jarak, sitting astride his
horse and staring up at the place where Anomander Rake
had been, there on top of the now motionless, silent bodies
– not one of whom bore any remnant of the vast tattoo.
    Draconus walked up to stand beside him. 'You knew
him, didn't you?'
    Iskar Jarak nodded. 'He called me a friend.'
    Draconus sighed. 'I wish I could say the same. I wish . . .
I wish I could have known him better than I did.' He heard
someone approaching and turned to see Hood. 'Lord of
Death, now what? We remain chained; we cannot leave as
did the Bridgeburners and the Grey Swords. There are too
few of us to pull the wagon, even had we anywhere to go.
I see, I understand what Rake has done, and I do not hold
him any ill will. But now, I find myself wishing I had joined
the others. To find an end to this—'
Iskar Jarak grunted and then said, 'You spoke true,
Draconus, when you said you did not know him well.'
    Draconus scowled. 'What do you mean?'
    'He means,' said Hood, 'we now come to the final act in
this bargain. He has been true to his word, but now what
comes is out of his hands. He wrought a promise, yes, but
will that suffice?'
    'Shame on you, Hood,' said Iskar Jarak, gathering up the
reins. 'There is not a fool out there who would