House of Chains (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #4)

House of Chains (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #4) Page 261

‘My mother did not ask after me,’ Felisin cut in, with a slight smile.

L’oric looked away. ‘No,’ he conceded in a whisper.

‘She knows, then. And has judged as I have-Bidithal is close to exposing the plotters. They need him, after all, either to join the conspiracy, or stand aside. This is a truth that has not changed. And the night is drawing nearer, the night of betrayal. And so, Mother needs him to play out his role.’

‘I am not sure of that, Felisin,’ L’oric began, then shut up.

But she had understood, and her terrible smile broadened. ‘Then the Whirlwind Goddess has stolen the love from her soul. Ah, well, she has been under siege for a long time, after all. In any case, she was not my mother in truth-that was a title she assumed because it amused her to do so-’

‘Not true, Felisin. Sha’ik saw your plight-’

‘I was the first one to see her, when she returned, reborn. A chance occurrence, that I should be out gathering hen’bara on that day. Before that day, Sha’ik had never noticed me-why would she? I was one among a thousand orphans, after all. But then she was… reborn.’

‘Returned to the living as well, perhaps-’

Felisin laughed. ‘Oh, L’oric, you ever strive, don’t you? I knew then, as you must know by now-Sha’ik Reborn is not the same woman as Sha’ik Elder.’

‘That hardly matters, lass. The Whirlwind Goddess chose her-’

‘Because Sha’ik Elder died, or was killed. You did not see the truth as I did, in the faces of Leoman and Toblakai. I saw their uncertainty-they did not know if their ruse would succeed. And that it did, more or less, was as much to me as to any of them. The Whirlwind Goddess chose her out of necessity, L’oric.’

‘As I said, Felisin, it does not matter.’

‘Not to you, perhaps. No, you don’t understand. I saw Sha’ik Elder up close, once. Her glance swept past me, and that glance saw no-one, and at that moment, child though I was, I knew the truth of her. Of her, and of her goddess.’

L’oric unstoppered the jug that had followed the food and raised it to wet a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. ‘And what truth was that?’ he whispered, unable to meet her eyes. Instead, he drank down a deep draught of the unwatered wine.

‘Oh, that we are, one and all, nothing but slaves. We are the tools she will use to achieve her desires. Beyond that, our lives mean nothing to the goddess. But with Sha’ik Reborn, I thought I saw… something different.’

His peripheral vision caught her shrug.

‘But,’ she continued, ‘the goddess is too strong. Her will too absolute. The poison that is indifference… and I well know that taste, L’oric. Ask any orphan, no matter how old they are now, and they will tell you the same. We all sucked at that same bitter tit.’

He knew his tears had broken from his eyes, were running down his cheeks, yet could do nothing to stem them.

‘And now, L’oric,’ she went on after a moment, ‘we are all revealed. Every one of us here. We are all orphans. Think on it. Bidithal, who lost his temple, his entire cult. The same for Heboric. Korbolo Dom, who once stood as an equal in rank with great soldiers, like Whiskeyjack, and Coltaine. Febryl-did you know he murdered his own father and mother? Toblakai, who has lost his own people. And all the rest of us here, L’oric-we were children of the Malazan Empire, once. And what have we done? We cast off the Empress, in exchange for an insane goddess who dreams only of destruction, who seeks to feed on a sea of blood…’

‘And,’ he asked softly, ‘am I too an orphan?’

She had no need to answer, for they both heard the truth in his own pained words.

Osric…

‘Leaving only… Leoman of the Flails.’ Felisin took the wine from his hands. ‘Ah, Leoman. Our flawed diamond. I wonder, can he save us all? Will he get the chance? Among us, only he remains… unchained. No doubt the goddess claims him, but it is an empty claim-you do see that, don’t you?’

He nodded, wiping at his eyes. ‘And I believe I have led Sha’ik to that realization, as well.’

‘She knows, then, that Leoman is our last hope?’

His sigh was ragged. ‘I think so…’

They were silent for a time. Night had arrived, and the fire had died down to ashes, leaving only starlight to illuminate the glade.

It seemed, then, that eyes of stone had slowly assumed life, a crescent row fixed now upon the two of them. A regard avid, gleaming with hunger. L’oric’s head snapped up. He stared out at the ghostly faces, then at the two Toblakai figures, then settled once more, shivering.