House of Chains
‘I do not, Trull Sengar. This prefaces nothing.’
Onrack spoke. ‘You are wrong, Monok Ochem. It prefaces… everything. ’
Trull Sengar glanced over, and answered with a smile.
Of sadness overwhelming. Of utter… despair.
And the undead warrior was shaken.
A succession of ridges ribboned the landscape, seeming to slowly melt as sand drifted down from the sky.
‘Soon,’ Pearl murmured, ‘those beach ridges will vanish once more beneath dunes.’
Pearl had announced that it was safe now to travel during the day. The goddess had drawn inward, concentrating her power for, perhaps, one final, explosive release. For the clash with the Adjunct. A singularity of purpose locked in rage, a flaw that could be exploited.
She allowed herself a private smile at that. Flaws. No shortage of those hereabouts, is there ? Their moment of wild passion had passed, as far as she was concerned. The loosening of long pent-up energies-now that it was done, they could concentrate on other things. More important things. It seemed, however, that Pearl saw it differently. He’d even tried to take her hand this morning, a gesture that she decisively rebuffed despite its pathos. The deadly assassin was on the verge of transforming into a squirming pup-disgust threatened to overwhelm her, so she shifted her thoughts onto another track.
They were running short on time, not to mention food and water. Raraku was a hostile land, resentful of whatever life dared exploit it. Not holy at all, but cursed. Devourer of dreams, destroyer of ambitions. And why not? It’s a damned desert .
Clambering over the cobbles and stones, they reached the first ridge.
‘We’re close,’ Pearl said, squinting ahead. ‘Beyond that higher terrace, we should come within sight of the oasis.’
‘And then what?’ she asked, brushing dust from her tattered clothes.
The Talons. The master of that revived cult . ‘Are you so certain of that?’
He nodded, then half shrugged. ‘Reasonably. I have come to believe that the rebellion was compromised long ago, perhaps from the very start. That the aim of winning independence for Seven Cities was not quite as central to some as it should have been, and indeed, that those hidden motives are about to be unveiled.’
‘And it is inconceivable to you that such unveilings should occur without your hand in their midst.’
He glanced at her. ‘My dear, you forget, I am an agent of the Malazan Empire. I have certain responsibilities…’
Her eyes lit on an object lying among the cobbles-a momentary recognition, then her gaze quickly shifted away. She studied the murky sky. ‘Has it not occurred to you that your arrival might well jeopardize missions already under way in the rebel camp? The Empress does not know you’re here. In fact, even the Adjunct likely believes we are far away from this place.’
‘I am not uncomfortable with a supporting role-’
‘Well,’ he amended, ‘such a role is not entirely reprehensible. I can live with it.’
Liar . She settled down on one knee to adjust the greaves lashed to her leather-clad shins. ‘We should be able to make that terrace before the sun sets.’
‘Agreed.’
She straightened.
They made their way down the rock-studded slope. The ground was littered with the tiny, shrivelled bodies of countless desert creatures that had been swept up into the Whirlwind, dying within that interminable storm yet remaining suspended within it until, with the wind’s sudden death, falling to earth once more. They had rained down for a full day, husks clattering and crunching on all sides, pattering on her helm and skidding from her shoulders. Rhizan, capemoths and other minuscule creatures, for the most part, although occasionally something larger had thumped to the ground. Lostara was thankful that the downpour had ended.
‘The Whirlwind has not been friendly to Raraku,’ Pearl commented, kicking aside the corpse of an infant bhok’aral.