Dust of Dreams

said I was the Mason of Death.’
    ‘So build a crypt and climb inside, Hedge. I’ll be happy to seal it for you with every ward I can think of.’
    ‘The thing is, Fid’s probably right.’
    Eyes narrowing, Quick Ben faced the sapper. ‘Hood’s been busy of late.’
    ‘You’d know more of that than me, and don’t deny it.’
    ‘It’s got nothing to do with us.’
    ‘You sure?’
    Quick Ben nodded.
    ‘
Then why am I the Mason of Death?
’
    The shout echoed from the nearby rooftops and Quick Ben flinched. ‘Because you’re needed,’ he said after a moment.
    ‘To do what?’
    ‘You’re needed,’ Quick Ben snarled, ‘
to build us a road
.’
    Hedge stared. ‘Gods below, where are we going?’
    ‘The real question is whether we’ll ever get there. Listen, Hedge, she’s nothing like you think. She’s nothing like any of us thinks. I can’t explain—I can’t get any closer than that. Don’t try anticipating. Or second-guessing—she’ll confound you at every turn. Just look at this reading—’
    ‘That was Fid’s doing—’
    ‘You think so? You’re dead wrong. He knows because she told him. Him and no one else. Now, you can try to twist Fiddler for details all you like—it won’t work. The truth as much as cut out his tongue.’
    ‘So what’s made you the Magus of Dark? What miserable piss-sour secret you holding back on now, Quick?’
    The wizard turned away once more, stared out over the city, and then stiffened. ‘Shit, what now?’
     
    The sorcery erupted from an alley mouth, striking Brys Beddict from his left side. The impact sent him sprawling, grey tendrils writhing like serpents about his body. In the span of a single heartbeat, the magic had bound him tight, arms trapped. The coils began constricting.
    Lying on his back, staring up at the night sky—that had at last begun to pale—Brys heard footsteps and a moment later the Errant stepped into the range of his vision. The god’s single eye gleamed like a star burning through mist.
    ‘I warned you, Brys Beddict. This time, there will be no mistakes. Yes, it was me who nudged you to take that mouthful of poisoned wine—oh, the Chancellor had not anticipated such a thing, but he can be forgiven that. After all, how could I have imagined that you’d found a guardian among Mael’s minions?’ He paused, and then said, ‘No matter. I am done with subtlety—this is much better. I can look into your eyes and watch you die, and what could be more satisfying than that?’
    The sorcery tautened, forcing Brys’s breath from his lungs. Darkness closed in round his vision until all he could see was the Errant’s face, a visage that had lost all grace as avid hunger twisted the features. He watched as the god lifted one hand and slowly clenched the fingers—and the pressure around Brys’s chest built until his ribs creaked.
    The new fist that arrived hammered like a maul against the side of the Errant’s head, snapping it far over. The gleaming eye seemed to wink out and the god crumpled, vanishing from Brys’s dwindling vision.
    All at once the coils weakened, and then frayed into dissolving threads.
    Brys drew a ragged, delicious breath of chill night air.
    He heard horse hoofs, a half dozen beasts, maybe more, approaching at a canter from up the street. Blinking sweat from his eyes, Brys rolled on to his stomach and then forced himself to his knees.
    A hand closed on his harness and lifted him to his feet.
    He found himself staring up at a Tarthenal—a familiar face, the heavy, robust features knotted absurdly into a fierce frown.
    ‘I got a question for you. It was for your brother and I was on my way but then I saw you.’
    The riders arrived, horses skidding on the dew-slick cobbles—a Malazan troop, Brys saw, weapons unsheathed. One of them, a dark-skinned woman, pointed with a sword. ‘He crawled into that alley—come on, let’s chop the bastard into stewing meat!’ She made to dismount and then seemed to sag and an instant later she collapsed on to the street, weapon clattering.
    Other soldiers dropped down from their mounts. Three of them converged on the unconscious woman, while the others fanned out and advanced into the alley.
    Brys was still having difficulty staying upright. He found himself leaning with one forearm against the Tarthenal. ‘Ublala Pung,’ he sighed, ‘thank you.’
    ‘I got a question.’
    Brys nodded. ‘All right, let’s hear it.’
    ‘But that’s the problem. I forgot