Dust of Dreams (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #9)

Dust of Dreams (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #9) Page 117

Bottle looked round. One Tile close by displayed a scatter of bones carved like impressions into the stone surface, impressions that glowed as if filled with embers. Nearby was another showing an empty throne. But the brightest Tile of all lifted its own image above the flat surface, so that it floated, swirling, in three dimensions. A dragon, wings spread wide, jaws open. ‘Hood’s breath,’ he muttered, repressing a shiver.

‘Your roads of the sea, Bottle,’ said Quick Ben. ‘They make me think about Mael.’

‘Well, hard not to think about Mael in this city, High Mage.’

‘You know, then.’

Bottle nodded.

‘That’s not nearly as worrisome as what was happening back in the Malazan Empire. The ascension of Mallick Rel, the Jhistal.’

Bottle frowned at Quick Ben. ‘How can that be more worrying than finding an Elder God standing next to the Letherii throne?’

‘It’s not the throne he’s standing beside. It’s Tehol. From what I gather, that relationship has been there for some time. Mael’s hiding here, trying to keep his head down. But he hasn’t much say when some mortal manages to grasp some of his power, and starts forcing concessions.’

‘The Elder God of the Seas,’ said Bottle, ‘was ever a thirsty god. And his daughter isn’t much better.’

‘Beru?’

‘Who else? The Lady of Fair Seas is an ironic title. It pays,’ he added, eyeing the dragon Tile, ‘not to take things so literally.’

‘I’m thinking,’ said Quick Ben, ‘of asking the Adjunct to elevate you to High Mage.’

‘Don’t do that,’ snapped Bottle. ‘Give me a reason not to. And not one of those pathetic ones about comradeship and how you’re so needed in Fid’s squad.’

‘All right. See what you think of this one, then. Keep me where I am… as your shaved knuckle in the hole.’

The High Mage’s glittering eyes narrowed, and then he smiled. ‘I may not like you much, Bottle, but sometimes… I like what you say.’

‘Lucky you. Now, can we get out of this place?’

‘I think it is time,’ she said, ‘for us to leave.’

Withal squinted at her, and then rubbed at the bristle on his chin. ‘You want better accommodation, love?’

‘No, you idiot. I mean leave. The Bonehunters, this city, all of it. You did what you had to do. I did what I had to do-my miserable family of Rake’s runts are gone, now. Nothing holds us here any more. Besides,’ she added, ‘I don’t like where things are going.’

‘That reading-’

‘Meaningless.’ She fixed a level gaze on him. ‘Do I look like the Queen of High House Dark?’

Withal hesitated.

‘Do you value your life, husband?’

‘If you want us to leave, why, I don’t expect anyone will try to stop us. We can book passage… somewhere.’ And then he frowned. ‘Hold on, Sand. Where will we go?’

Scowling, she rose and began pacing round their small, sparsely furnished room. ‘Remember the Shake? On that prison island?’

‘Aye. The ones that used old Andii words for some things.’

‘Who worship the shore, yes.’

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘Who also seemed to think that the shore was dying.’

‘Maybe the one they knew-I mean, there’s always some kind of shore.’

‘Rising sea levels.’

‘Aye.’

‘Those sea levels,’ she continued, now facing the window and looking out over the city, ‘have been kept unnaturally low… for a long time.’

‘They have?’

‘Omtose Phellack. The rituals of ice. The Jaghut and their war with the T’lan Imass. The vast ice fields are melting, Withal.’ She faced him. ‘You’re Meckros-you’ve seen for yourself the storms-we saw it again at Fent Reach-the oceans are in chaos. Seasons are awry. Floods, droughts, infestations. And where does the Adjunct want to take her army? East. To Kolanse. But it’s a common opinion here in Lether that Kolanse is suffering a terrible drought.’ Her dark eyes hardened. ‘Have you ever seen an entire people starving, dying of thirst?’

‘No. Have you?’

‘I am old , husband. I remember the Saelen Gara, an offshoot Andii people in my home world. They lived in the forests. Until the forests died. We begged them, then, to come to Kharkanas. To the cities of the realm. They refused. Their hearts were broken, they said. Their world had died, and so they elected to die with it. Andarist begged…’ Her gaze clouded then and she turned away, back to the window. ‘Yes, Withal, to answer you. Yes, I have. And I will not see it again.’