House of Chains
Urugal’s broken rasp replied, ‘You have found that which was taken from us, Karsa Orlong. You have freed your gods.’
The Teblor watched the ghost of Urugal slowly take shape before him. A squat, heavy-boned warrior, shorter than a lowlander but much broader. The bones of his limbs were split-where Karsa could see between the taut straps of leather and hide that bound them, that held him together . More straps crossed his chest.
‘Karsa Orlong, you have found our weapons.’
The warrior shrugged. ‘If indeed they are among the thousands in the chambers beyond.’
‘They are. They did not fail us.’
‘But the Ritual did.’
Urugal cocked his head. His six kin were taking shape around him. ‘You understand, then.’
‘I do.’
‘Our physical forms approach, Karsa Orlong. They have journeyed far, bereft of spirit, held only by our wills-’
‘And the one you now serve,’ the Teblor growled.
‘Yes. The one we now serve. We have guided you in turn, Warleader. And now shall come your reward, for what you have given us.’
‘I shall.’
The one named Halad-the largest of the seven by far, hulking, bestial-stepped forward. ‘You must now fashion a sword, Karsa Orlong. Of stone. The mines outside await you-we shall guide you in the knowledge-’
‘There is no need,’ Karsa said. ‘I have learned the many hearts of stone. The knowledge is mine, and so too shall the sword be mine. Those you fashion are well enough for your own kind. But I am Teblor. I am Thelomen Toblakai.’ With that he swung about and walked towards the monolithic pillar of flint.
‘That spar will defeat you,’ Halad said behind him. ‘To draw a long enough blade for a sword, you must strike from above. Examine this vein carefully, and you will see that, pure as it is, the flow of the stone is unforgiving. None of our kind has ever managed to draw forth a flake longer than our own height. The spar before you can no longer be worked; thus its abandonment. Strike and it shall shatter. And that failure shall stain your next efforts, and so weaken the sorcery of the making.’
Karsa stood before the brown, almost black, flint pillar.
‘You must fashion a fire at its base,’ Halad said. ‘Left to burn without cessation for a number of days and nights. There is little wood in the valley below, but in the Jhag Odhan beyond, the bhederin herds have travelled in their multitudes. Fire, Karsa Orlong, then cold water-’
‘No. All control is lost with that method, T’lan Imass. Your kind are not unique in knowing the truths of stone. This task is mine and mine alone. Now, enough words.’
‘The name you have given us,’ Urugal rasped, ‘how did you come by such knowledge?’
Karsa turned, face twisting into a sneer. ‘Foolish Teblor. Or so you believed. So you would have us. Fallen Thelomen Toblakai, but he who has fallen can rise once again, Urugal. Thus, you were once T’lan Imass. But now, you are the Unbound.’ The sneer became a snarl. ‘From wandering to hold. From hold to house .’
The warrior climbed the spar of flint. Perched on its top, he drew out his Malazan short-sword. A moment’s examination of the stone’s surface, then he leaned over to study the almost vertical sweep of flawless flint reaching down to the cave’s floor. Reversing the sword, Karsa began scraping the top of the pillar, a hand’s width in from the sharp edge. He could see the tracks of old blows-the T’lan Imass had tried, despite Halad’s words, but had failed.
Karsa continued roughing the surface where he would strike. In his mind, he spoke. Bairoth Gild. Delum Thord. Hear me, when none other can. One day, I shall break my chains, I shall free the souls that now hound me. You would not be among them, or so you said. Nor would I wish Hood’s embrace upon you. I have considered your desires in this. And have fashioned an alternative …
‘ Warleader, Delum Thord and I understand your intent. Your genius never fails to astonish me, Karsa Orlong. Only with our consent will you succeed. And so you give us words and lo, we find our path forced. Hood’s embrace … or what you seek .’