The Crippled God (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #10)

The Crippled God (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #10) Page 229

‘What’s happening? Where am I?’

‘The witches and your brother, Queen, they killed the Hounds.’

Hounds .

What day is this? In a world without days, what day is this?

‘They’re little girls now,’ her companion said.

Yan Tovis blinked up at her. A familiar face. ‘Your brother?’

The woman looked away.

‘I’m sorry.’

She shook her head. ‘I will see them soon, my queen. That’s what I look forward to now.’

‘Don’t think that way—’

‘Forgive me, Highness. I took care of them all my life, but against this, I wasn’t enough. I failed. It’s too much. From the very start, it was too much.’

Yan Tovis stared up at the woman’s face, the dry eyes, the absence of expression. She’s already gone . ‘“They await you on the Shore.”’

A brittle half-smile. ‘So we say over our dead, yes. I remember.’

Over our dead .

‘Tell the witches – if they do that to me again – if they use me like that – ever again – I will kill them both.’

The woman flinched. ‘They look ten years old, Highness.’

‘But they aren’t. They’re two old women, sour and bitter and hateful of the world. Go, give them my warning, soldier.’

With a silent nod, the young woman rose.

Yan Tovis settled her head, felt the sand grinding against the back of her skull. Empty sky. Dreams of darkness. If I had knelt to the Shore, they couldn’t touch me. Instead, they punished me .

‘But if they hadn’t,’ she whispered, ‘those Hounds would have killed hundreds more. Which of us, then, is sour and bitter? Hateful of the world?’

I will go to her. To Kharkanas. I will beg her forgiveness. Neither of us can withstand the weight of this crown. We should cast it off. We can find the strength for that. We must .

Oh, I am a fool. Yedan will not yield. The lives lost must mean something, even when they don’t. So, it seems we must all die. It seems we have no choice. Not the Shake, not the Letherii, not Sandalath Drukorlat, Queen of High House Dark .

She reached down and came up with a handful of white sand – crumbled bones. ‘It’s all here,’ she whispered. ‘Our entire history, right here. From then … to now. To what’s coming. All … here.’ And she watched, as she closed that hand into a fist, as if to crush it all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Stone whispers

Patience

But we take chisel in hand

Child begs

Not yet

But the sands have run out

Sky cries

Fly

But we hold our ground

Wind sings

Free

But roots bind us down

Lover sighs

Stay

But we must be gone

Life pleads

Live

But death is the dream

We beg

Not yet

But the sands have run out

Stone whispers

Patience … Incantation Gallan of Kharkanas

‘THERE WILL COME A TIME,’ VENTURED SECHUL LATH, ‘WHEN WE shall be all but forgotten.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ growled Errastas. ‘ And they shall drink blood . Remember that? Book of Elders. And that is the last memory of us that will remain. As drinkers of blood. A tyranny of thirst. If it is not for us to save our worshippers, then who will – who will save all these wretched mortals?’

Behind them, feet thumping the ground like a drum of war, Kilmandaros said, ‘They cannot be saved. They never could.’

‘Then what use are we? To any of them?’

Errastas spat on the ground, and replied with contempt, ‘Someone to blame, Setch. For all the ruin they themselves commit. On each other. On themselves. Anyway, enough. We’ve chewed on this too many times.’

Sechul Lath glanced back. ‘Are we far enough, do you think?’

Kilmandaros’s eyes were hooded with exhaustion, and she did not bother following his gaze. ‘No.’

‘A warren—’ Errastas began.

She cut him off with a snort. ‘The wounding to come shall strike through every warren. Young and Elder. Our only hope is to get as much distance between us and her as we can.’

Errastas shrugged. ‘I never much liked K’rul anyway.’

‘To begin,’ Kilmandaros said, ‘this but wounds. If she is not slain in time, then K’rul will indeed die, and the world shall be unmade. The death of sorcery, and more.’

Sechul Lath smiled across at Errastas. ‘And so the coin is cast, and it spins, and spins still.’