Sudden alarm.
Aye, the truth of it. I won't be collared, Nightchill. And I tell you this, now, and you'd do well to take heed of these words. I'm taking a step forward. Between you and every mortal like me. I don't know what that man Gruntle had to lose, to arrive where you wanted him, but I sense the wounds in him — Abyss take you, is pain your only means of making us achieve what you want? It seems so. Know this, then: until you can find another means, until you can show me another way — something other than pain and grief — I'll fight you.
We have our lives. All of us, and they're not for you to play with. Not Picker's life, not Gruntle's or Stonny's.
You've opened this path, Nightchill. Connecting us. Fine. Good. Give me cause, and I'll come down it. Riding the blood of a Hound of Shadow — do you know, I think, if I wanted to, I could call the others with it. All of them.
Because I understand something, now. Come to a realization, and one I know to be truth. In the sword Dragnipur. two Hounds of Shadow returned to the Warren of Darkness. Returned, Nightchill. Do you grasp my meaning? They were going home.
And I can call them back, without doubt. Two souls of untamed Dark. Grateful souls, beloved spawn of destruction-
A reply came, then, a woman's voice unknown to Paran. 'You have no idea what you threaten, mortal. My brother's sword hides far more secrets than you can contemplate.'
He smiled. Worse than that, Nightchill. The hand now wielding Dragnipur belongs to Darkness. Anomander Rake, the son of the mother. The pathway has never been so straight, so direct or so short, has it? Should I tell him what has happened within his own weapon-
'Should Rake learn that you found a way into Dragnipur and that you freed the two Hounds he had slain. he would lull you, mortal.'
He might. He's already had a few chances to do so, and just reasons besides. Yet he stayed his hand. I don't think you under' stand the Lord of Moon's Spawn as well as you think you do. There is nothing predictable in Anomander Rake — perhaps that is what frightens you so.
'Pursue not this course.'
I will do whatever I have to, Nightchill, to cut your strings. In your eyes, we mortals are weak. And you use our weakness to justify manipulating us.
'The struggle we face is far vaster — far deadlier — than you realize.'
Explain it. All of it. Show me this vast threat of yours.
'To save your sanity, we must not, Ganoes Paran.'