A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

straining to see some lone, wandering, lost figure
dragging a sword in one hand. But no, he wouldn't be
coming back. 'You know, I did offer to explain. It might
have eased his conscience. But he wasn't interested.'
    'Listen to these damned bells,' said Shadowthrone. 'My
head's hurting enough as it is. Let's go, we're done here.'
    And so they were, and so they did.
    Two streets from his home, Bellam Nom was grasped from
behind and then pushed up against a wall. The motion
ripped pain through his broken arm. Gasping, close to
blacking out, he stared into the face of the man accosting
him, and then slumped. 'Uncle.' And he saw, behind
Rallick, another vaguely familiar face. 'And . . . Uncle.'
    Frowning, Rallick eased back. 'You look a mess, Bellam.'
    And Torvald said, 'The whole damned Nom clan is out
hunting for you.'
    'Oh.'
    'It won't do having the heir to the House going missing
for days,' Torvald said. 'You've got responsibilities, Bellam.
Look at us, even we weren't so wayward in our young days,
and we're heirs to nothing. So now we've got to escort you
home. See how you've burdened us?'
    And they set out.
    'I trust,' Rallick said, 'that whoever you tangled with
fared worse, Bellam.'
    'Ah, I suppose he did.'
    'Well, that's something at least.'
    After they had ushered the young man through the gate,
peering after him to make sure he actually went inside,
Rallick and Torvald set off.
    'That was a good one,' Rallick said, 'all that rubbish
about us in our youth.'
    'The challenge was in keeping a straight face.'
    'Well now, we weren't so bad back then. At least until
you stole my girlfriend.'
    'I knew you hadn't forgotten!'
    'I suggest we go now to sweet Tiserra, where I intend to
do my best to steal her back.'
    'You're not actually expecting she'll make us breakfast,
are you?'
    'Why not?'
    'Tiserra is nobody's servant, cousin.'
    'Oh, well. You can keep her, then.'
    Torvald smiled to himself. It was so easy working Rallick.
It had always been so easy, getting him to end up thinking
precisely what Torvald wanted him to think.
    Rallick walked beside him, also pleased as from the
corner of his eye he noted Torvald's badly concealed,
faintly smug smile. Putting his cousin at ease had never
taxed Rallick.
    It was a comfort, at times, how some things never
changed.
    When Sister Spite stepped on to the deck, she saw Cutter
near the stern, leaning on the rail and staring out over the
placid lake. She hid her surprise and went to join him.
    'I am returning to Seven Cities,' she said.
    He nodded. 'That's close enough.'
    'Ah, well, I am pleased to have your company, Cutter.'
    He glanced over at her. 'Get what you wanted?'
    'Of course not, and . . . mostly.'
    'So, you're not upset?'
    'Only in so far as I failed in sinking my teeth into my
sister's soft throat. But that can wait.'
    If he was startled by her words, he did not show it. 'I
would have thought you'd want to finish it, since you came
all this way.'
    'Oh, there are purposes and there are purposes to all that
we do, my young friend. In any case, it is best that I leave
immediately, for reasons I care not to explain. Have you
said your goodbyes?'
    He shrugged. 'I think I did that years ago, Spite.'
    'Very well, shall we cast off?'
    A short time later, the ship slipping easily just out from the
shoreline, on a westward heading, they both stood at the
port rail and observed the funeral procession's end, there at
a new long barrow rising modestly above the surrounding
hills. Crowds upon crowds of citizens ringed the mound.
The silence of the scene, with the bells faint and distant,
made it seem ethereal, like a painted image, solemn
through the smoke haze. They could see the cart, the ox.
    Spite sighed. 'My sister once loved him, you know.'
    'Anomander Rake? No, I didn't know that.'
    'His death marks the beginning.'
    'Of what?'
    'The end, Cutter.'
    He had no response to that. A few moments drifted past.
'You said she loved him once. What happened?'
    'He acquired Dragnipur. At least, I imagine that was the
cause. She is well named, is my sister.'
    Envy.
    Cutter shot her a glance, thinking of her own name, this
beautiful woman at his side, and wisely he said nothing,
nothing at all.
    The bell that wasn't there had finally stopped its manic
ringing, and Scillara was able to climb back on to the
temple roof, so that she could gaze out over the city. She
could see the lake, where one lone ship had unfurled sails
to ride the morning breeze. She knew those sails and she
tracked them