The Crippled God

it.’
    ‘He’s Malazan, isn’t he?’
    ‘I don’t think he’s anything.’
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
    But the witch’s eyes were wide, staring at seemingly nothing. ‘Can an idea find flesh? Bone? Does it have a face – is that even possible? Can people build a saviour, with handfuls of clay and withered sticks? If their need for a voice is so terrible, so … demanding – can a people build their own god, Faint? Tell me – have you ever heard such a thing? Has anyone ever even thought it?’
    Faint reached out, pulled Precious Thimble round to face her. ‘What in Hood’s name are you talking about? What do you see in that boy?’
    Precious Thimble’s face twisted. ‘ I don’t know! ’ she cried, pulling herself away.
    Faint turned, scanned the mass of troops – where was he, then?That strange boy? But the dust was rising in walls, slipping across like curtains in the hesitant wind tracking the length of the valley. She looked to the prince’s command position – off to her left – but saw only mounted messengers, signallers and the prince’s staff. Her eyes narrowed on Atri-Ceda Aranict. ‘Precious – come with me.’
    She set out.
    The ghost of Sweetest Sufferance was suddenly walking at her side. ‘ You should listen to the witch, love .’
    Faint glared at the ethereal form, and then shot a look back over one shoulder – to see Precious trailing half a dozen paces behind, walking like a drunk. ‘Sweetest,’ Faint whispered, ‘how can I listen to her? She’s talking nonsense!’
    ‘ I’m just saying, her ideas are intriguing. Maybe she’s on the right track – I doubt that boy’s even got a belly button. Have you looked? He’s probably old enough for a roll in the grasses, a little schooling from Mistress Faint – what do you think? Can I watch? Just to see if he’s got one, of course .’
    Breath hissed from between Faint’s teeth. ‘Gods below. I can’t even see the runt. Besides, in case you hadn’t noticed, this whole valley is about to erupt in a bloodbath – and you want me to tickle his damned sack?’
    ‘ Never mind the whole belly thing, then. It was just a thought. I’m sure he’s got one. Everyone does. Precious is panicking, that’s all. When the Forkrul Assail unleash Akhrast Korvalain, when they awaken that deadly voice, well, who’s here to fight against that? Yon Atri-Ceda and Precious herself, and that’s it. Is it any wonder she’s gibbering? ’
    ‘Stop talking, Sweetest.’ Faint was almost upon the Atri-Ceda – the woman was standing on the very edge of the descent into the valley, dragging on a rustleaf stick as if it held the blood of immortality and eternal youth. And for all Faint knew, maybe it did.
    ‘Atri-Ceda.’
    Aranict turned, and almost immediately her eyes shifted past Faint, fixing on Precious Thimble. ‘Greetings, witch. Be so good as to awaken a circle round us – and I would ask that you add your talents to my efforts in the defence to come.’ She pulled hard on the stick. ‘Failing that, we fall that much sooner.’
    Precious Thimble made a whimpering sound.
    Aranict’s expression darkened. ‘Courage, child. Where is your boyfriend? We will need him here – he possesses a natural disinclination to sorcerous attacks.’
    Licking dust-dry lips, Faint cleared her throat. ‘Atri-Ceda, your words do not elicit confidence over the outcome of this battle.’
    Lighting another stick, Aranict waved one hand, as if distracted. Sending a blast of smoke into the air she said, ‘I would advise thatyou run, but then there is nowhere to run to.’ She pointed with a hand visibly trembling. ‘See the prince – down there, on the horse behind the last ranks? That is the man I love, and he is about to die. Precious – listen to me. Defend this position with all that is within you, because all my power will be down there, with him. Once the Pure finds me, he will make every effort to shred me alive.’
    Faint took a step back, appalled by the heart-rending rawness of the woman standing before her, so much exposed, so much ripped open for all to see. And yet … and yet … if I could find a love like that. If I could find such a love . ‘Aranict,’ she now said in a soft voice – and something in the tone drew the Atri-Ceda round. ‘If I may, I will stand with you.’
    She saw Aranict’s eyes widen, and then flit away – as if she could no longer bear to see what was there in Faint’s own face. The Atri-Ceda