Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #8)

Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #8) Page 234

‘In some places,’ cut in Faint, ‘they use blood.’

‘So I’ve heard. In One Eye Cat, it was honey, so that the flies stuck. Flies and wasps, actually. Anyway, I was with my grandfather, who’d been a soldier in the Revenants-’

‘Gods, it’s been a long time since I last heard them mentioned!’ Faint stared across at Sweetest Sufferance. ‘Is this true? Your grandfather was with the Revenants?’

‘So he always told it. When I was very young, I believed every word he said. When I was older, I didn’t believe any of it. And now I’m still older, I’ve gone back to believing him. Things in his house, the carved flagstones, the broken masks he had on the wall… yes, Faint, I believe he was at that.’

‘Commanded by a Seguleh-’

‘An outlawed Seguleh, yes. Anyway, it was my grandfather who took me to watch his old company’s patron temple and all the priests and priestesses doing their flies thing.’

‘Wait. The Revenants were supposed to have all disappeared-taken by Hood himself, to serve him in the realm of the dead. So what was your grandfather do-ing living in One Eye Cat?’

‘He lost his sword arm in a battle. He’d been left for dead, and by the time any-one found him it was too late for any serious healing. So they seared the stump and retired him out. Now, you going to let me tell my tale or not?’

‘Yes, fine. Sorry.’

‘He said the priests were getting it all wrong, with that honey. The flies and wasps weren’t the important thing in the ceremony. It was the blood-honey, but that symbolized blood. The Revenants-who were as good as Hood’s own warrior-priests, in the mortal world anyway-well, they were flagellants. Blood on the skin, life bled out to die on the skin-that was the important detail. It’s why Hood cherishes dead soldiers more than any other of the countless dead that stumble through the gate. The Merchants of Blood, the army that will fight on the hidden plain called Defiance Last.’ She paused, then licked her lips. ‘That’s what the

Dawn of Flies is about. A final battle, the dead gathered, on a hidden plain called

Defiance last.’

‘So,’ said Faint, feeling chilled by Sweetest Sufferance’s story, ‘maybe that’s why Hood took the Revenants. Because that battle is coming.’

‘Give me some more of that,’ Sweetest Sufferance said, reaching for the wine-skin.

Glanno Tarp nudged Reccanto Ilk. ‘See ’em? They’re talking about us. Well, me, mostly. It’s gonna happen, Ilk, sooner or later, it’s gonna happen.’

Reccanto Ilk squinted across at the man. ‘What, they gonna kill you in your sleep?’

‘Don’t be an idiot. One a them’s gonna ask me to forevermarry her.’

‘And then she’ll kill you in your sleep. And then we can all slice up your share.’

‘You think I didn’t see how you gropered Sweetie?’

‘How could you? You was driving!’

‘There ain’.t nothing that I don’t see, Ilk. That’s what makes me such a goodif-erous driver.’

‘She’s got the nicest handholds.’

‘Watch what you’re doing with my future foreverwife.’

‘Could be Faint you end up with, which means I can do what I like with Sweetie.’

Glanno Tarp loosed a loud belch. ‘We should make up something to eat. Break-fast, so when they’re finished jawbering over there we can up and get on our way.’

‘Wherever that is.’

‘Wherever don’t matter. Never has and never will.’

Reccanto Ilk grinned. ‘Right. It ain’t the destination that counts…’

And together they added, ‘It’s the journey!’

Faint and Sweetest Sufferance looked over, both scowling. ‘Not that again!’ Faint called. ‘Just stop it, you two! Stop it or we’ll kill you in your sleep!’

Reccanto Ilk nudged Glanno Tarp.

Mappo crouched, rocking on the balls of his broad feet, waiting for Master Quell to finish his muttered incantation against pain. He sympathized, since it was clear that the mage was suffering; his face pale and drawn, forehead slick with sweat, his hands trembling.

That anyone would choose such a profession, given the terrible cost, was a dif-ficult notion to accept. Was coin worth this? He could not understand that sort of thinking.

What held real value in this world? In any world? Friendship, the gifts of love and compassion. The honour one accorded the life of another person. None of this could be bought with wealth. It seemed to him such a simple truth. Yet he knew that its very banality was fuel for sneering cynicism and mockery. Until such things were taken away , until the price of their loss came to be personal, in some terrible, devastating arrival into one’s life. Only at that moment of profound extremity did the contempt wash down from that truth, revealing it bare, undeniable.