Reaper's Gale (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #7)

Reaper's Gale (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #7) Page 107

Silchas Ruin sighed. ‘I am not insensitive to the battle you have waged here, wizards. But your success is due entirely to the inevitable disintegration of the Jaghut’s ritual’ He scanned the faces before him. ‘You are no match for Omtose Phellack, when its wielder was none other than Gothos. In any case, the balance you believe you have achieved is illusory. The ritual fails. Ice, which had been held in check, held timeless, has begun to move once more. It falters in the warmth of this age, yet its volume is so vast that, even melted, it will effect vast change. As for the glaciers bound in the highest reaches of the mountains of Bluerose-those to the north-well, they have already begun their migration. Unmindful of the distant ocean’s assault, they draw power from a wayward flow of cold air. These glaciers, wizards, still hold the spear of the ritual, and soon it will drive for your heart. The Andara is doomed.’

‘We care nothing for the Andara,’ said Gestallin Aros, Reve of the Air. ‘The balance you speak of is not the one that matters to us. Silchas Ruin, the Jaghut’s ritual was of ice only in the manner that fire is of wood-it was the means of achieving a specific goal, and that goal was the freezing in place of time. Of life, and of death.’

Clip’s gaze narrowed on Silchas Ruin, as the albino Andii slowly cocked his head, then said, ‘You speak of a different failing, yet the two are linked-’

‘We are aware of that,’ cut in Ordant Brid. Then, with a faint smile, ‘Perhaps more so than you. You speak of a spear of ice, of Omtose Phellack’s very core, still living, still powerful. That spear, Silchas Ruin, casts a shadow, and it is within that shadow that you will find what you seek. Although not, I think, in the way you desire.’

‘Explain.’

‘We will not,’ snapped Rin Varalath. ‘If you wish to understand, then look to your kin.’

‘My kin? Are you then able to summon Anomander?’

‘Not him,’ replied Ordant Brid. He hesitated, then continued. ‘We were visited, not so long ago, by an ascendant. Menandore. Sister Dawn-’

If anything, Ruin’s voice grew even colder as he demanded, ‘What has she to do with this?’

‘Balance, you ignorant fool!’ Rin Varalath’s shriek echoed in the chamber.

‘Where is she now?’ Silchas Ruin asked.

Alas,’ replied Draxos Hulch, ‘we do not know. But she is close, for reasons that are entirely her own. She will, I fear, oppose you, should you decide to force your way past us.’

‘I seek the soul of Scabandari Bloodeye. I do not understand that you would object to such a goal.’

‘We see the truth of that,’ said Ordant Brid.

A long moment of silence. The five Onyx Wizards faced a nonplussed Silchas Ruin, who seemed at a loss for words.

‘It is,’ said Penith Vinandas, ‘a question of… compassion.’

‘We are not fools,’ said Ordant Brid. ‘We cannot oppose you. Perhaps, however, we can guide you. The journey to the place you seek is arduous-the path is not straight. Silchas Ruin, it is with some astonishment that I tell you that we have reached something of a consensus on this. You have no idea how rare such a thing is-granted, I speak of a compromise, one which sits uneasier with some of us than with others. Nonetheless, we have agreed to offer you a guide.’

‘A guide? To lead me on this crooked path, or tug me ever astray from it?’

‘Such deceit would not work for very long.’

‘True; nor would I be merciful upon its discovery.’

‘Of course.’

Silchas Ruin crossed his arms. ‘You will provide us with a guide. Very well. Which of you has volunteered?’

‘Why, none of us,’ said Ordant Brid. ‘The need for us here prevents such a thing. As you said, a spear of ice is directed at us, and while we cannot shatter it, perhaps we can… redirect it. Silchas Ruin, your guide shall be the Mortal Sword of the Black-Winged Lord.’ At that, the wizard gestured.

Clip rose to his feet, then began his descent to the Disc of Concordance. The chain and its rings appeared in his hand, whirring, then snapping, then whirring out again.

‘He is Anomander’s Mortal Sword?’ Silchas Ruin asked in obvious disbelief as he stared up at this meeting’s audience of one.

Clip smiled. ‘Do you think he would be displeased?’

After a moment, the brother of Rake grimaced, then shook his head. ‘Probably not.’

‘Come the morrow,’ Ordant Brid said, ‘we will begin preparing the way for the continuation of your journey.’