Memories of Ice

The Malazan pitched against a wall, and, in a series of racking heaves, lost the supper the Seerdomin had so kindly provided.

Distant crashing shook the floor beneath his feet. Garath continuing his relentless hunt. Oh, you poor bastards, you invited the wrong guests into your temple …

'Oh, there you are!'

Still sickened, he twisted round to see Lady Envy, dressed in her spotless white nightclothes, her raven hair tied up and pinned, standing at the doorway. 'That armour proved fatally heavy, alas,' she said regretfully, her eyes on the corpses in the pools, then brightened. 'Oh well! Come along, you two! Senu and Thurule should be finished with the Seerdomin warriors.'

'There's more than one?' Toc asked, bewildered.

'There were about twenty in all. Kahlt was their captain as well as being this temple's high priest. Warrior-priests — what an unfortunate combination. Back to your room, now, my dear. You must gather up your belongings. We're rendezvousing in the compound.'

She set off.

Stumbling in her wake, with Baaljagg trailing, Toc drew a deep, shuddering breath. 'Has Tool shown up for this?' he asked.

'I've not seen him. He wasn't required in any case. We had matters in hand.'

'With me snoring like a fool!'

'Baaljagg watched out on your behalf, my love. You were weary, were you not? Ah, here we are. Gather your accoutrements. Garath intends to destroy this temple-'

'Yes,' Toc snapped. 'About Garath-'

'You don't wake up well at all, do you, young man? Surely we can discuss all this later?'

'Fine,' he growled, entering his room. 'We will indeed.'

The inner chambers of the temple thundering into dust, Toc stood in the compound, watching the two Seguleh dismounting the corpses of the villagers and replacing them with the freshly butchered bodies of the Seerdomin warriors. Kahlt, bearing a single thrust wound through the heart, was among them.

'He fought with fierce determination,' Lady Envy murmured at Toc's side. 'His axe was everywhere, yet it seemed that Thurule barely moved. Unseen parries. Then he languidly reached out, and stabbed the Seerdomin captain straight through the heart. A wondrous display, Toc the Younger.'

'No doubt,' he muttered. 'So tell me, does the Seer know about us, now?'

'Oh yes, and the destruction of this temple will pain him greatly.'

'He'll send a Hood-damned army down on us.'

'Assuming he can spare one from his northern endeavours, that seems likely. Certainly he will feel the need to respond in some manner, if only to slow our progress.'

'I might as well turn back here and now,' Toc said.

She raised an eyebrow. 'You lack confidence?'

'Lady, I'm no Seguleh. I'm not an ay on the edge of ascendancy. I'm not a T'lan Imass. I'm not a dog that can stare eye-to- level -eye with a Hound of Shadow! And I'm not a witch who can boil men alive with a snap of her fingers!'

'A witch! Now I am offended!' She advanced on him, arms crossed, eyes flaring. 'A witch! And have you ever seen me snap my fingers? By the Abyss, what an inelegant notion!'

He took an involuntary step back. 'A figure of speech-'

'Oh, be quiet!' She took his face in her hands, pulled him inexorably closer. Her full lips parted slightly.

Toc tried to pull away, but his muscles seemed to be dissolving around his bones.

She stopped suddenly, frowned. 'No, perhaps not. I prefer you … free.' The frown shifted to a scowl. 'Most of the time, in any case, though you have tried my patience this morning.'

She released him, studied his face for a moment longer, then smiled and turned away. 'I need to get changed, I think. Senu! When you're done, find me my wardrobe!'

Toc slowly shook himself. He was trembling, chilled in the wake of a sure, instinctive knowledge of what that kiss would have done. And poets write of the chains of love. Hah! What they write figuratively she embodies literally. If desire could have a goddess…

A swirl of dust, and Tool rose from the ground beside him. The T'lan Imass turned his head, stared over at Mok's recumbent form near the outer gate, then said. 'K'ell Hunters are converging on us.' It seemed the T'lan Imass was about to say something more, then simply vanished once again.

'See?' Lady Envy called out to the Malazan. 'Now aren't you glad that I insisted you get some sleep?'

They came to a crossroads marked by two menhirs, leaning and half buried on a low rise between the two cobbled roads. Arcane hieroglyphs had been carved into their faces, the pictographs weathered and faint.