No, he will be as he always is. He will be Karsa Orlong. He’ll not even look at the Emperor, until Rhulad draws closer, until the two of them begin.
Not overconfident. Not indifferent. Not even contemptuous. No easy explanations for this Toblakai warrior. He would be within himself, entirely within himself, until it was time… to witness.
But nothing would turn out right, Samar Dev knew. Not all of Karsa Orlong’s prowess, nor that ever-flooding, ever-cascading torrent that was the Toblakai’s will; nor even this host of spirits trapped in the knife she now held, and those others who trailed the Toblakai’s shadow-souls of the slain, desert godlings and ancient demons of the sands and rock-spirits that might well burst forth, enwreathing their champion god (and was he truly that? A god? She did not know) with all their power. No, none of it would matter in the end.
Kill Rhulad Sengar. Kill him thrice. Kill him a dozen times. In the end he will stand, sword bloodied, and then will come lcarium, the very last.
To begin it all again.
Karsa Orlong, reduced to a mere name among the list of the slain. Nothing more than that. For this extraordinary warrior. And this is what you whisper, Fallen One, as your holy credo. Grandness and potential and promise, they all break in the end.
Even your great champion, this terrible, tortured Tiste Edur-you see him broken again and again. You fling him back each time less than what he was, yet with ever more power in his hands. He is there, yes, for us all. The power and its broken wielder broken by his power.
Karsa Orlong sat up. ‘Someone has left,’ he said.
Samar Dev blinked. ‘What?’
He bared his teeth. ‘lcarium. He is gone.’
‘What do you mean, gone? He’s left? To go where?’
‘It does not matter,’ the Toblakai replied, swinging round to settle his feet on the floor. He stared across at her. ‘He knows.’
‘Knows what, Karsa Orlong?’
The warrior stood, his smile broadening, twisting the crazed tattoos on his face. ‘That he will not be needed.’
‘Karsa-’
‘You will know when, woman. You will know.’
Know what, damn you? ‘They wouldn’t have just let him go,’ she said. ‘So he must have taken down all the guards. Karsa, this is our last chance. To head out into the city. Leave all this-’
‘You do not understand. The Emperor is nothing. The Emperor, Samar Dev, is not the one he wants.’
Who? Icarium? No-‘Karsa Orlong, what secret do you hold? What do you know about the Crippled God?’
The Toblakai rose. ‘It is nearly dawn,’ he said. ‘Nearly time.’
‘Karsa, please-’
‘Will you witness?’