Dust of Dreams

has
changed
.’
    Mael nodded. ‘Prompting the question, what is Hood up to? He was once a Jaghut. Since when do Jaghut delegate? Olar Ethil, who was this recent ascendant?’
    ‘Twice brought into the world of worship. Once, by a tribal people, and named Iskar Jarak. A bringer of wisdom, a saviour. And the other time, as the commander of a company of soldiers—promised to ascension by a song woven by a Tanno Spiritwalker. Yes, the entire company ascended upon death.’
    ‘Soldiers?’ Errastas was frowning. ‘Ascended?’ Confused. Frightened by the notion.
    ‘And what name did he possess among these ascended soldiers?’ Mael asked.
    ‘Whiskeyjack. He was a Malazan.’
    ‘A Malazan.’ Mael nodded. ‘So too is the Master of the Deck. And so too is the Master’s unpredictable, unknowable ally—the Adjunct Tavore, who leads a Malazan army east, across the Wastelands. Leads them,’ he turned to Sechul Lath, ‘into Kolanse.’
    The bastard knows! He understands the game we’re playing!
It was a strugglenot to betray everything with a glance to Kilmandaros. Seeing the quiet knowledge in Mael’s eyes chilled him.
    Olar Ethil bestowed on them a third cackle, a gift no one welcomed.
    Errastas was no fool. Suspicion glittered from his eye as he studied Sechul Lath. ‘Well now,’ he said in a low tone, ‘all those nights tossing the bones for Kilmandaros here . . . I suppose you found plenty of things to talk about, killing time as it were. Some
plans
, perhaps, Setch? Foolish of me, I see now, to imagine you were content with simply wasting away, leaving it all behind. It seems,’ and the smile he gave was dangerous, ‘you played me. Using all of your most impressive talents.’
    ‘This meeting,’ drawled Mael, ‘was premature. Errant, consider yourself banished from Letheras. If I sense your return, I will hunt you down and drown you as easily as you did Feather Witch.’
    He walked to the spring, descended into the sinkhole and vanished from sight.
    Olar Ethil pointed a finger at Kilmandaros, waggled it warningly, and then set off, northward. A miserable collection of skin and bones. The three remaining Elder Gods watched her walk away. When the T’lan Imass was perhaps fifty paces distant, she veered into her draconic form, dust billowing, and then lifted skyward.
    A low growl came from Kilmandaros.
    Sechul Lath rubbed at his face. He sighed. ‘The power you seek to bleed dry, Errastas,’ he said, facing the Errant, ‘well, it turns out we were all working to similar ends.’
    ‘You anticipated me.’
    Sechul shrugged. ‘We had no expectation that you would just show up at the door.’
    ‘I do not appreciate being played, Setch. Do you see no value to my alliance?’
    ‘You have irrevocably altered the strategy. As Mael pointed out, though perhaps for different reasons, this meeting was premature. Now our enemies are awakened to us.’ He sighed again. ‘Had you stayed away, stayed quiet, why, Mother and I—we’d have stolen that power from beneath their very noses.’
    ‘To share solely between the two of you.’
    ‘To the victors the spoils.’
But none of this mad usurpation, this desire to return to what once was.
‘But, I dare say, had you come begging, we might well have proved magnanimous . . . for old times’ sake.’
    ‘I see.’
    Kilmandaros faced him. ‘Do you, Master of the Holds? You summoned us here, only to find that you are the weakest, the most ignorant among us. You forced us all—Sechul, Mael, Olar Ethil, to put you in your place. To make you realize that you alone have been wallowing in self-pity and wasting away doing nothing. Perhaps Mael thinks our time is done, but then, why has he ensured that his worship is on the ascent? That a Jhistal Priest of Mael now rises to take the throne of the most powerful empire this world has seen since the time of Kallor and Dessimbelackis? Who among us has proved the witless one this day?’
    With a snarl, Errastas swung away from them.
    Sechul turned to his mother. ‘Mael was warning us, I think. This Adjunct Tavore he spoke of. These infernal Malazans.’
    ‘And the children of the gods. Yes, many warnings, Sechul. From Olar Ethil as well. Jaghut, T’lan Imass, Tiste Andii—bah!’
    ‘All subtlety is lost,’ agreed Sechul Lath. ‘Errastas, return to us, we have much to discuss. Come now, I will tell you of the path we have already prepared. I will tell you just how close we are to achieving all that we