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

‘And your mouth that never stops, making me need to kill something.’

‘I am not to blame for your violent impulses. Besides, I was just passing time in harmless conversation. We’ve not spoken in a while, you and I. I find I prefer Taxilian’s company, and were he not sick with homesickness and even more miserable than you…’

‘Conversation. Is that what you call it? Then why are my ears numb?’

‘You know, I too am impatient. I’ve not cast a curse on anyone in a long time.’

‘Your squalling spirits do not frighten me,’ Karsa Orlong replied. ‘And they have been squalling, ever since we made

the river. A thousand voices clamouring in my skull-can you not silence them?’

Sighing, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Toblakai… you will have quite an audience when you clash swords with this Edur Emperor.’

‘What has that to do with your spirits, Samar Dev?’

‘Yes, that was too obscure, wasn’t it? Then I shall be more precise. There are gods in this city we approach. Resident gods.’

‘Do they ever get a moment’s rest?’

‘They don’t live in temples. Nor any signs above the doors of their residences, Karsa Orlong. They are in the city, yet few know of it. Understand, the spirits shriek because they are not welcome, and, even more worrying, should any one of those gods seek to wrest them away from me, well, there is little I could do against them.’

‘Yet they are bound to me as well, aren’t they?’

She clamped her mouth shut, squinted across at him in the gloom. The hull thumped as the ship edged up along-side the dock. She saw the glimmer of bared teeth, feral, and a chill rippled through her. ‘What do you know of. that?’ she asked.

‘It is my curse to gather souls,’ he replied. ‘What are spirits, witch, if not simply powerful souls? They haunt me… I haunt them. The candles I lit, in that apothecary of yours-they were in the wax, weren’t they?’

‘Released, then held close, yes. I gathered them… after I’d sent you away.’

‘Bound them into that knife at your belt,’ Karsa said. ‘Tell me, do you sense the two Toblakai souls in my own weapon?’

‘Yes, no. That is, I sense them, but I dare not approach.’

‘Why?’

‘Karsa, they are too strong for me. They are like fire in the crystal of that flint, trapped by your will.’

‘Not trapped,’ he replied. ‘They dwell within because they choose to, because the weapon honours them. They are my companions, Samar Dev.’ The Toblakai rose suddenly, hunching beneath the ceiling. ‘Should a god be foolish enough to seek to steal our spirits, I will kill it.’

She regarded him from half-closed eyes. Declarative statements such as that one were not rare utterances from Karsa Orlong, and she had long since learned that they were not empty boasts, no matter how absurd the assertion might have sounded. ‘That would not be wise,’ she said after a moment.

‘A god devoid of wisdom deserves what it gets.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

Karsa stooped momentarily to retrieve the dead rat, then he headed for the hatch.

She followed.

When she reached the main deck, the Toblakai was walking towards the captain. She watched as he placed the sodden rat in the Letherii’s hands, then turned away, saying, ‘Get the hoists-I want my horse on deck and off this damned hulk.’ Behind him, the captain stared down at the creature in his hands, then, with a snarl, he flung it over the rail.

Samar Dev contemplated a few quick words with the captain, to stave off the coming storm-a storm that Karsa had nonchalantly triggered innumerable times before on this voyage-then decided it was not worth the effort. It seemed that the captain concluded much the same, as a sailor hurried up with a bucket of seawater, into which the Letherii thrust his hands.

The main hatch to the cargo hold was being removed, while other hands set to assembling the winches.

Karsa strode to the gangway. He halted, then said in a loud voice, ‘This city reeks. When I am done with its Emperor, I may well burn it to the ground.’

The planks sagged and bounced as the Toblakai descended to the landing.

Samar Dev hurried after him.

One of two fully armoured guards had already begun addressing Karsa in contemptuous tones. ‘-to be unarmed whenever you are permitted to leave the compound, said permission to be granted only by the ranking officer of the Watch. Our immediate task is to escort you to your quarters, where the filth will be scrubbed from your body and hair-’