The Crippled God

dying … palatable. We tried, didn’t we? We followed where you led. That was duty. That was loyalty. And all you kept asking of us, the battles, the marches … we did them. See how many have died for you, Tavore. See us who remain. Now we too will die. Because we believed .
    Gods below, say something!
    The Adjunct twisted round, to where Fiddler was standing, and then she faced Ruthan Gudd. ‘Captain,’ her voice was a dull croak, ‘where lies Icarias?’
    ‘South and east of us, Adjunct. Nine, ten days.’
    ‘And directly east? Where is the edge of this desert?’
    He clawed at his beard, and then shook his head. ‘Another ten, eleven days, if we continue angling northeast – if we continue following this shallow basin as we have been doing since yesterday.’
    ‘Is there water beyond the desert, Captain? On the Elan Plain?’
    ‘Not much, I would warrant, or so the children have told us.’
    Tavore looked to the T’lan Imass. ‘Upon the Elan Plain, Beroke, can you find us water?’
    One of the undead creatures faced her. ‘Adjunct, we are then within the influence of Akhrast Korvalain. It is possible, but difficult, and the efforts we make will be felt. We would not be able to hide.’
    ‘I understand. Thank you, Beroke.’
    She still thinks we can make it. Ten more days! Has she lost her mind?
    Blistig laughed, a sound like the tearing open of his own throat. ‘We have followed a mad woman. Where else would she lead us?’
    Lostara could not understand where Blistig found the energy for his rage, but he now raised his arms, shouted, ‘Malazans! She gave us nothing! We pleaded – we begged! In the name of our soldiers, in the name of all of you – we begged her !’ He faced the army. ‘You saw us! Marching to her tent again and again – all our questions she spat back into our faces! Our fears, our concerns – they told us this desert was impassable – but she ignored them all!’
    Before him stood the ranks, and from them, not a sound.
    Blistig spun, advanced on the Adjunct. ‘What power is this? Within you, woman? That they now die without a complaint?’
    Kindly, Raband, Sort and Skanarow had all drawn closer, and all at once Lostara knew that if Blistig sought to attack Tavore now he would never reach her, never mind the T’lan Imass. Yet, for all that, those officers kept looking to the Adjunct, and Lostara saw the yearning in their eyes.
    No one could withstand this much longer – even a god would fall to his knees. But still the Adjunct stood. ‘Banaschar,’ she said.
    The ex-priest limped over to Lostara. ‘Captain,’ he said, ‘your kit bag, please.’
    She frowned at him. ‘What?’
    ‘Can I have your kit bag, Captain?’
    Henar helped her lift it off her shoulders. They set it down.
    Kneeling before it, Banaschar fumbled at the straps. ‘She judged you the strongest,’ he murmured. ‘Gift of a god? Possibly. Or,’ and he glanced up at her, ‘maybe you’re just the most stubborn one of us all.’ He pulled back the sun-cracked flap, rummaged inside, and then drew out a small wooden box.
    Lostara gasped. ‘That’s not—’
    ‘You stayed close,’ Banaschar said. ‘We knew you would.’
    He struggled to straighten, nodding his thanks when Lostara helped him, and then he walked slowly over to the Adjunct.
    In Lostara’s mind, a memory … a throne room. That Ceda. Theking … complaining, such a plain gift, that dagger. And what did the Ceda tell her? Dire necessity …
    Banaschar opened the box. The Adjunct reached in, withdrew the dagger. She held it before her.
    ‘“When blood is required. When blood is needed .”’
    Tavore glanced over at her, and Lostara realized that she had spoken those words aloud.
    Banaschar said, ‘Adjunct, the king’s Ceda—’
    ‘Is an Elder God, yes.’ Tavore continued studying the knife, and then, slowly, she looked up, her gaze moving from one face to the next. And something flickered in her expression, that parched mask of plainness. A crack through to … to such hurt . And then it was gone again, and Lostara wondered if she’d ever seen it, wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing. She is only what you see. And what you see isn’t much .
    Banaschar said, ‘Your blood, Adjunct.’
    She saw Fiddler then, well behind the Adjunct, saw him turn away as if in shame.
    The Adjunct was studying them all. Lostara found herself at Tavore’s side, with no memory of moving, and she saw the faces before her, all fixed upon