Memories of Ice
'Sir,' Itkovian said, 'you may ask your questions of me, and I shall do all I can to answer you.'
The young Capan swung to the Shield Anvil. 'Brukhalian has given you leave to speak?'
'He has.'
'Very well. The Kron T'lan Imass and their undead wolves. They have destroyed the Septarch's K'Chain demons.'
'They have.'
'Yet the Pannion Domin has more. Hundreds more.'
'Yes.'
'Then why do the T'lan Imass not march into the empire? An assault into the Seer's territory may well achieve the withdrawal of Kulpath's besieging forces. The Seer would have no choice but to pull them back across the river.'
'Were the T'lan Imass a mortal army, the choice would indeed be obvious, and consequently beneficial to our own needs,' Itkovian replied. 'Alas, Kron and his undead kin are bound by unearthly demands, of which we know virtually nothing. We have been told of a gathering, a silent summoning for purposes unknown. This, for the moment, takes precedence over all else. Kron and the T'lan Ay destroyed the Septarch's K'Chain Che'Malle because their presence was deemed a direct threat to the gathering.'
'Why? That explanation is insufficient, Shield Anvil.'
'You are suggesting that Kron is intimidated by the Pannion Seer-'
'Aye, in his belief that the Seer is Jaghut.'
The prince was silent for a long moment, then he shook his head. 'Even should the T'lan Imass decide to march upon the Pannion Domin, the decision will come too late for us.'
'That seems likely.'
'Very well. Now, another question. Why is this gathering occurring here ?'
Itkovian hesitated, then slowly nodded to himself. 'Prince Jelarkan, the one who has summoned the T'lan Imass is approaching Capustan … in the company of an army.'
'An army?'
'An army marching to wage war against the Pannion Domin; indeed, with the additional aim of relieving the siege here at Capustan.'
'What? '
'We cannot hold-'
'This truth is known, Prince.'
'And does this summoner command that army?'
'No. Command is shared between two men. Caladan Brood and Dujek Onearm.'
'Dujek — High Fist Onearm? The Malazan? Lords below, Itkovian! How long have you known this?'
The Shield Anvil cleared his throat. 'Preliminary contact was established some time ago, Prince. Through sorcerous avenues. These have since grown impassable-'
'Yes, yes, I know that well enough. Continue, damn you.'
'The presence of the summoner among their company was news only recently told us — by a Bonecaster of the Kron T'lan Imass-'
'The army, Itkovian! Tell me more of this army!'
Prince Jelarkan's eyes were wide. Itkovian watched the information breach the man's inner defences, watched as the host of hopes flowered then withered in swift succession.
'On the surface,' the Shield Anvil said quietly, 'all that I have told you seems of vital import. Yet, as I see you now comprehend, it is in truth all meaningless. Five weeks, Prince. Leave them to their vengeance, if you will, for that is all they might manage. And even then, given their limited numbers-'
'Are these Brukhalian's conclusions, or yours?'
'Both, I regret to say.'
'You fools,' the young man grated. 'You Hood-damned fools.'
'Sire, we cannot withstand the Pannions for five weeks.'
'I know that, damn you! The question now is: why do we even try?'
Itkovian frowned. 'Sir, such was the contract. The defence of the city-'
'Idiot — what do I care about your damned contract? You've already concluded you will fail in any case! My concern is for the lives of my people. This army comes from the west? It must. Marching beside the river-'