Reaper's Gale (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #7)

‘Rats?’

‘Rats, not that I could glean any hint of a cult centred on such foul creatures.’

‘Karsa would find the notion amusing,’ Samar Dev said with a half-smile, ‘and acquire in such cultists yet another enemy, given his predilection for wringing the necks of rodents-’

Taxilian said in a low voice, ‘Not just rodents, I gather…’

‘Alas, but on that matter I would allow the Toblakai some steerage room-he warned them that no-one was to touch his sword. A dozen or more times, in fact. That guard should have known better.’

‘Dear witch,’ Taxilian sighed, ‘you’ve been careless or, worse, lazy. It’s to do with the Emperor, you see. The weapon destined to cross blades with Rhulad’s own. The touch signifies a blessing-did you not know? The loyal citizens of this empire want the champions to succeed. They want their damned tyrant obliterated. They pray for it; they dream of it-’

‘All right,’ Samar Dev hissed, ‘keep your voice down!’

Taxilian spread his hands, then he grimaced. ‘Yes, of course. After all, every shadow hides a Patriotist-’

‘Careful of whom you mock. That’s a capricious, bloodthirsty bunch, Taxilian, and you being a foreigner only adds to your vulnerability.’

‘You need to eavesdrop on more conversations, witch. The Emperor is unkillable. Karsa Orlong will join all the others in that cemetery of urns. Do not expect otherwise. And when that happens, why, all his… hangers-on, his companions-all who came with him will suffer the same fate. Such is the decree. Why would the Patriotists bother with us, given our inevitable demise?’ He drained the last wine from his goblet, then refilled it. ‘In any case, you distracted me. I was speaking of that collapsed temple, and what I saw of its underpinnings-the very proof for my growing suspicions.’

‘I didn’t know we’re destined for execution. Well, that changes things-although I am not sure how.’ She fell silent; then, considering Taxilian’s other words, she said, ‘Go on.’

Taxilian slowly leaned back, cradling the goblet in his hands. ‘Consider Ehrlitan, a city built on the bones of countless others. In that, little different from the majority of settlements across all Seven Cities. But this Letheras, it is nothing like that, Samar Dev. No. Here, the older city never collapsed, never disintegrated into rubble. It still stands, following street patterns not quite obscured. Here and there, the ancient buildings remain, like crooked teeth. I have never seen the like, witch-it seems no regard whatsoever was accorded those old streets. At least two canals cut right through them-you can see the bulge of stonework on the canal walls, like the sawed ends of long-bones.’

‘Peculiar indeed. Alas, a subject only an architect or a mason would find a source of excitement, Taxilian.’

‘You still don’t understand. That ancient pattern, that mostly hidden gridwork and the remaining structures adhering to it-witch, none of it is accidental.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I should probably not tell you this, but among masons and architects there are secrets of a mystical nature. Certain truths regarding numbers and geometry reveal hidden energies, lattices of power. Samar Dev, there are such courses of energy, like twisted wires in mortar, woven through this city. The collapse of Scale House revealed it to my eyes: a gaping wound, dripping ancient blood-nearly dead blood, I’ll grant you, but undeniable.’

‘Are you certain of this?’

‘I am, and furthermore, someone knows. Enough to ensure that the essential constructs, the buildings that form a network of fulcra-the fixing-points to the lattice of energy-they all remain standing-’

‘Barring this Scale House.’

A nod. ‘Not necessarily a bad thing-indeed, not necessarily accidental, that collapse.’

‘Now you have lost me. That temple fell down on purpose?’

‘I would not discount that. In fact, that accords precisely with my suspicions. We approach a momentous event, Samar Dev. For now, that is as far as I can take it. Something is going to happen. I only pray we are alive to witness it.’

‘You’ve done little to enliven my day,’ she said, eyeing her half-finished breakfast of bread, cheeses and unfamiliar fruit. ‘At the very least you can order us another carafe of wine for your sins.’

‘I think you should run,’ Taxilian said under his breath, not meeting her eyes. ‘I would, barring the event I believe is coming. But as you say, my interest is perhaps mostly professional. You, on the other hand, would do better to look to your own life-to maintaining it, that is.’