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

Silent. One who does not play.

‘Is that the best you can do?’

Vndead.

He squinted down at the tracks, noting the wide, slightly misaligned gait, the faint streaks left by dangling tufts of hide, skins, whatever. T’lan Imass?’

Broken.

‘Two, maybe three leagues ahead of me.’

More. Water crawls slowly here.

‘I smell snow and ice.’

My breath betrays all that I devour. Turn back to a sweeter kiss, beloved.

‘You mean the reek of fly-swarmed swamp I’ve endured for the past two months?’ He straightened, adjusted his heavy pack.

You are cruel. At least the one ahead says nothing. Thinks nothing. Feels nothing.

‘T’lan Imass for certain, then.’

Broken.

‘Yes, I understood you the first time.’

What will you do?

‘If need be, I will give you a gift, wind.’

A gift? Oh, what is it?

‘A new game-you have to guess.’

I will think and think and-

‘Hood’s breath-oh-oh! Forget I just said that!’

– and think and think…

They rode hard, westward at first, paralleling the great river for most of two days, before reaching the feeder track that angled northerly towards Almas, a modest town distinguished only by its garrison and stables, where Atri-Preda Yan Tovis, Varat Taun and their Letherii company could rest, resupply and requisition fresh mounts.

Varat Taun knew flight when he saw it, when he found himself part of it. Away from Letheras, where, a day before their departure, the palace and barracks seemed caught in a rising storm of tension, the smell of blood heady in the air, a thousand rumours cavorting in all directions but none of them possessing much substance, beyond news relating the casting out of two families, the widows and children of two men who had been the Chancellor’s bodyguards, and who were clearly no longer among the living.

Had someone tried to assassinate Triban Gnol? He’d wondered that out loud early in this journey and his commander had simply grunted, as if nothing in the notion surprised or even alarmed her. Of course she knew more than she was letting on, but Twilight had never been free with her words.

Nor am I, it turns out. The horrors of what I witnessed in that cavern-no, nothing 1 can say could possibly convey the… the sheer extremity of the truth. So best leave it. The ones who will witness will not live long past the experience. What then will remain of the empire?

And is this not why we are running away?

A foreigner rode with them. A Mocker, Yan Tovis had said, whatever that meant. A monk of some sort. With the painted face of a cavorting mummer-what mad religion is that? Varat Taun could not recall the strange little man saying a word-perhaps he was mute, perhaps his tongue had been cut out. Cultists did terrible things to themselves. The journey across the seas and oceans of the world had provided a seemingly endless pageantry of bizarre cultures and customs. No amount of self-mutilation in misguided service to some god would surprise Varat Taun. The Mocker had been among the challengers, but the absurdity of this was now obvious-after the first day of riding he had been exhausted, reeling in the saddle. He was, evidently, a healer.

Who healed me. Who guided me out from the terror and confusion. I have spoken my gratitude, but he just nodded. Did he witness the visions in my mind? Is he now struck mute, his very sanity under siege? In any case, he was no challenger to the Emperor, and that was why he now rode beside Yan Tovis, although what value she placed in this Mocker escaped the lieutenant.

Perhaps it’s no different from how she views me. I ride in this company in an act of mercy. Soon to be sent to a posting in my home city. To be with my wife and my child. Twilight is not thinking as an Atri-Preda-not even her duty as a soldier was enough to compel her to report what she had learned to her superiors.

But this is not the first time, is it? Why should I be surprised? She surrendered Pent Reach to the Edur, didn’t she? No battle, they just opened the gates.

‘Clearly, she loves the Edur so much she can go with them, to take command of the Letherii forces in the fleets.’ So went the argument, dry and mocking.

The truth may be that Yan Tovis is a coward.

Varat Taun did not like that thought, even as it now hounded him. He reminded himself of the battles, the skirmishes, both on water and ashore, where there had been nothing-not a single moment-when he had been given cause to doubt her courage.

Yet here, now, she was fleeing Letheras with her elite company.

Because 1 confirmed that Gral’s claims. Besides, would 1 will’ ingly stand beside Icarium again7. No, not at his side, not in the same city, preferably not on the same damned continent. Does that make me a coward as well?