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

Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #8) Page 368

She stood, Mew in her arms, feeling as if her soul had been blasted open, and all that was left was a hollow shell, slowly refilling. Refilling with… something. ‘Oh,’ she whispered, ‘Harllo.’

Shardan Lim was waiting for Challice when she returned home. He rose from the ornate bench but did not approach, instead standing, watching her with an odd expression.

‘This,’ she said, ’is unexpected.’

‘No doubt. Forgive me for intruding on your… busy schedule.’

There was no genuine remorse to back his apology, however, and she felt a trembling of her nerves. ‘What do you want, Councillor?’

‘Are we not past titles, Challice?’.

‘That depends.’

‘Perhaps you’re right. Even so, after we’re done here there’ll be no need for for-malities between us.’

Should she call for the guard? What would he do? Why, he’d laugh.

Shardan Lim walked closer. ‘Pour yourself some wine. Pour yourself a lot of wine, if you like. I must tell you, I am not at all pleased at having been so uncer emoniously discarded. It seems you find adultery to your taste, and your appetite has grown. Out of control? I think, yes, out of control.’

‘You forced open the door,’ she said, ‘and now complain that I’ve left the room?’

His thin colourless lips curved in a smile. ‘Something like that. I’m not ready for you to leave just yet.’

‘And I am to have no say in the matter?’

His brows lifted. ‘Dear Challice. You surrendered such privileges long ago. You let your husband use you-not in any normal way, but still, you let him use you. You let me do the same, and how some lowborn thief, and who knows how many others. Make no protest now-it will sound hollow even to you, I’m sure.’

‘It’s still my life.’ But the words sounded thin, too brittle to stretch very far over the misshapen, ugly truth.

He did not bother with a response, but looked across to a divan.

‘You’ll have to drag me,’ she said, ‘so the reality will be plain, so plain you won’t be able to pretend this is anything but the rape it is.’

He looked disappointed. ‘Wrong again, Challice. You are going to walk over there and undress. You are going to the lie back and spread your legs. It should be easy now; you’ve done it often enough. Your lowborn lover is going to have to share you, I’m afraid. Before long, I expect you’ll not even be able to tell the dif-ference.’

How could he force her to do such things? She did not understand, although-without doubt- he did. Yes, Shardan Lim understood things far too well.

She walked to the divan.

She was still sore, achy, from the morning’s lovemaking. Before long, that ache would be deeper, more raw than it was now. Pain and pleasure, yes, entwined like lovers. She could feed them both again and again, for ever and again.

And so she would. Until the time came when she… awakened.

Crokus, never mind my husband. There is no point. I will tell you that the next time. I promise.

I promise.

Shardan Lim used her then, but in the end it was he who did not understand, after all. And when she thanked him afterwards, he seemed taken aback. As he hurried to dress and depart, she remained lying on the divan, amused at his con-fusion, at peace With the way of things now.

And she thought of her glass globe with its trapped moon, that gift of a youth long lost, and she smiled.

In a near tropical city, the dead are quickly dressed. A distraught Coll, half-mad with grief, arrived in a carriage. Meese came down from the room where she had sat with the body, and Coll sent one of his aides to crack open the family crypt.

There would be no delays permitted. Grief was transformed into fury when Coll discovered who had been responsible for Murillio’s death.

‘First blood drawn’s never enough for Vidikas. He likes killing-under any other circumstances he’d be on his way to the High Gallows. Damn these anti quated duelling laws. The time’s come to outlaw duels-I will address the Council-’

‘Such a thing will not pass,’ Kruppe said, shaking his head. ‘Coll knows this as well as does Kruppe.’

Coll stood like a man trapped, cornered. ‘Where’s Rallick?’ he asked in a growl.

Sighing, Kruppe poured the second to last goblet full and handed it to Coll. ‘He will be here soon, Kruppe believes. Such is this day, in no hurry to end, and will any of us sleep this night? Kruppe aleady dreads the impending solitude. Ah, here is Rallick.’

They watched as Irilta stumbled to the assassin, very nearly collapsing into Rallick’s arms. His expression of shock quickly darkened as she spoke, her voice muffled since her face was pressed against his shoulder-but not so muffled that he did not comprehend.