House of Chains
‘As you say, Chosen One,’ Leoman grated. His startling blue eyes fixed on Ghost Hands. ‘If you require anything, old man, seek out Mathok.’
Korbolo’s brows rose.
‘An odd thing to say,’ Sha’ik commented. ‘Ghost Hands is under my protection, after all.’
‘Minor requirements only, of course,’ Leoman said, ‘such as might prove distracting, Chosen One. You have an army to ready, after all-’
‘A task,’ Korbolo cut in, ‘which the Chosen One has entrusted in me, Leoman.’
The desert warrior simply smiled. Then he collected his reins. ‘May the Whirlwind guard you, Chosen One.’
‘And you, Leoman.’
The man rode back to his waiting horse warriors.
May your bones grow white and light as feathers, Leoman of the Flails . Korbolo swung to Sha’ik. ‘He will disobey you, Chosen One.’
‘Of course he will.’
The Napan blinked, then his gaze narrowed. ‘Then it would be madness to yield the wall of sand to him.’
She faced him, her eyes questioning. ‘Do you fear the Adjunct’s army, then? Have you not said to me again and again how superior you have made our forces? In discipline, in ferocity? This is not Onearm’s Host you will be facing. It is a shaky mass of recruits, and even should they have known hardening in a minor engagment or two, what chance have they against your Dogslayers? As for the Adjunct… leave her to me. Thus, what Leoman does with his fifteen hundred desert wolves is, in truth, without relevance. Or are you now revising all your opinions, Korbolo Dom?’
‘Of course not, Chosen One. But a wolf like Leoman should remain leashed.’
‘Leashed? The word you’d rather have used is killed . Not a wolf, but a mad dog. Well, he shall not be killed, and if indeed he is a mad dog then where better to send him than against the Adjunct?’
‘Febryl awaits you in your tent,’ Sha’ik said. ‘He grows impatient with your lateness, Korbolo Dom. You need not remain here any longer.’
From heat to ice. The Malazan did not trust himself to speak, and at the Chosen One’s dismissive wave he almost flinched. After a moment, he managed to find his voice, ‘I had best find out what he wants, then,’ he said.
‘No doubt he views it as important,’ Sha’ik murmured. ‘It is a flaw among ageing men, I think, that brittle self-importance. I advise you to calm him, Korbolo Dom, and so slow his pounding heart.’
‘Sound advice, Chosen One.’ With a final salute, Korbolo strode to the platform’s steps.
Heboric sighed as the Napan’s bootsteps faded behind them. ‘The poor bastard’s been left reeling. Would you panic them into acting, then? With Leoman now gone? And Toblakai as well? Who is there left to trust, lass?’
‘Trust? Do you imagine I trust anyone but myself, Heboric? Oh, perhaps Sha’ik Elder knew trust… in Leoman and Toblakai. But when they look upon me, they see an impostor-I can see that well enough, so do not attempt to argue otherwise.’
‘And what about me?’ Heboric asked.
‘Ah, Ghost Hands, now we come to it, don’t we? Very well, I shall speak plain. Do not leave. Do not leave me, Heboric. Not now. That which haunts you can await the conclusion of the battle to come. When that is done, I shall extend the power of the Whirlwind-back to the very edge of the Otataral Isle. Within that warren, your journey will be virtually effortless. Otherwise, wilful as you are, I fear you will not survive the long, long walk.’
He looked at her, though the effort earned him little more than a blur where she stood, enfolded in her white telaba. ‘Is there anything you do not know about, lass?’
‘Alas, far too much, I suspect. L’oric, for example. A true mystery, there. He seems able to fend off even the Whirlwind’s Elder magic, evading my every effort to discern his soul. And yet he has revealed much to you, I think.’
‘In confidence, Chosen One. I am sorry. All I can offer you is this: L’oric is not your enemy.’
‘Well, that means more to me than you perhaps realize. Not my enemy. Does that make him my ally, then?’
Heboric said nothing.
After a moment, Sha’ik sighed. ‘Very well. He remains a mystery, then, in the most important of details. What can you tell me of Bidithal’s explorations of his old warren? Rashan.’