The Crippled God

‘Lord, I shall go at once.’
    Nimander watched her make her way towards the ceremony.
    Beside him, Silchas Ruin said, ‘She was ever favoured by your father, Lord.’
    ‘Silchas, she gave her heart to a human, a Malazan, who died in the conquest of Black Coral.’
    The white-skinned man was silent for a moment, and then said, ‘He must have been … formidable.’
    ‘I imagine so.’
    ‘My experience with these Malazans has thus far been brief – I recognize the uniforms from my … attempt on Letheras. To say that they have earned my respect is something of an understatement. I would not willingly cross them again.’
    Nimander looked at his uncle, wondering.
    Tentative, weakened by a sudden feeling of temerity, Korlat’s steps slowed when she was still forty or more paces away from the gathering of dignitaries. Off to her left, assembled in formation, stood the ranks of Malazans – the army known by the name of Bonehunters. Beyond them, arrayed on a higher vantage point, were the far more numerous ranks of the second Malazan army, the Host.
    To her right, where the K’Chain Che’Malle had encamped, the Ve’Gath and K’ell Hunters had formed up in a facing line, the Matron foremost among them. A human woman was walking out from that formation, on a route that would intersect Korlat’s own.
    Perhaps she would find strength in that company. Failing that, she doubted she would manage to get much closer. Her heart felt laid bare – she had believed her days of deepest grief were past. But seeing those Malazan marines – seeing Hedge, Quick Ben and Kalam – had cut her open all over again. When they had seen her – when at last Nimander had judged it time to approach that fated barrow – they had but nodded in greeting, and she could admit now that the distance they had maintained since had hurt her in some way.
    Perhaps they thought that she had been intent on stealing their sergeant away from them. Perhaps, even, they blamed her for his death. She did not know, and now she had been commanded to join them once more, at this place where two Malazan marines were interred.
    She had selected a polished jet stone from her modest collection – knowing how the humans would smile at that, these small leather bags the Tiste Andii always carried, with a stone to mark each gift of the owner’s heart. She possessed but a few. One for Anomander Rake, one for her fallen brother, Orfantal; one for Spinnock Durav – who cared nothing for her low birth – and one for Whiskeyjack. Soon, she had begun to suspect, she would set out to find two more. For Queen Yan Tovis. For Lord Nimander.
    These stones were not to be surrendered.
    To give one up was to set down a love, to walk away from it for evermore.
    But it had been foolish, finding a stone for a man whose love she had known for so brief a time. He had never felt the way she had – he couldnot have – she had gone too far, had given up too much. They’d not possessed the time to forge something eternal.
    Then he had died, and it was as if he had been the one doing the walking away, leaving his own stone behind – the dull, lifeless thing that was her heart.
    ‘ The dead forget us .’ So said Gallan . ‘ The dead forget us, and this is why we fear death .’
    She had thought … there on that distant barrow now called the Awakening … a whisper of something, a presence arriving old and achingly familiar. As if he had looked upon her – as if she had felt his eyes – no, you foolish woman. It was his soldiers gathered on that hill. If he was there at all, it was for them .
    Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the woman from the K’Chain Che’Malle ranks. Korlat had come to a halt with her memories, and now she looked on this stranger, offering a rueful half-smile. ‘My courage fails,’ she said.
    The human woman, plain, past her youth, studied her for a moment. ‘What is that,’ she asked, ‘in your hand?’
    Korlat thought to hide it away again, but then sighed and showed the black stone. ‘I thought … a gift. For the barrow. I have seen such practices before …’
    ‘Did you know them?’
    After a moment, Korlat turned to retrace her steps. ‘No. I am sorry. I did not.’
    But the woman took her arm. ‘Walk with me, then, and I will tell you about Mortal Sword Gesler and Shield Anvil Stormy.’
    ‘I was presumptuous—’
    ‘I doubt it,’ the woman replied. ‘But you can hold on to your tale, if you like. I am