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

‘These games,’ Samar Dev ventured, drawing his attention, ‘they are intended to entertain, yes? Each contest more challenging than the last.’

The Tiste Edur eyed her, expressionless, then he said, ‘Among the audience, there are those who are entertained.’

‘Yes.’

After a moment, he added, ‘Yes, this Tarthenal will come last. The decision was unanimous among our observers.’ Then he shrugged and said, ‘I came to see for myself. Although my judgement has no relevance.’

‘That Seguleh was very good,’ Samar Dev said.

‘Perhaps. But she has sparred with no others.’

‘They hold her in great respect.’

‘Even now? When will he set her down?’

She shook her head.

Tomad Sengar turned away. ‘The Tarthenal is superb.’

‘And yet your son is better.’

This halted him once more and he stared back at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Your Tarthenal is superb,’ he repeated. ‘But he will die anyway.’

The Tiste Edur walked away.

Finally responding to shouts and entreaties from the onlookers, Karsa Orlong set the woman down onto the ground.

Three Letherii healers rushed in to tend to her.

Collecting his sword, Karsa straightened, then looked round.

Oh, thought Samar Dev, oh no.

But Icarium was gone. As was his Gral keeper.

The Toblakai walked towards her.

‘I didn’t need to know,’ she said.

‘No, you knew already.’

Oh, gods!

Then he drew closer and stared down at her. ‘The Jhag fled. The Trell who was with him is gone. Probably dead. Now there is a desert warrior I could break with one hand. There would have been none to stop us, this Icarium and me. He knew that. So he fled.’

‘You damned fool, Karsa. Icarium is not the kind of warrior who spars. Do you understand me?’

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‘These games,’ Samar Dev ventured, drawing his attention, ‘they are intended to entertain, yes? Each contest more challenging than the last.’

The Tiste Edur eyed her, expressionless, then he said, ‘Among the audience, there are those who are entertained.’

‘Yes.’

After a moment, he added, ‘Yes, this Tarthenal will come last. The decision was unanimous among our observers.’ Then he shrugged and said, ‘I came to see for myself. Although my judgement has no relevance.’

‘That Seguleh was very good,’ Samar Dev said.

‘Perhaps. But she has sparred with no others.’

‘They hold her in great respect.’

‘Even now? When will he set her down?’

She shook her head.

Tomad Sengar turned away. ‘The Tarthenal is superb.’

‘And yet your son is better.’

This halted him once more and he stared back at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Your Tarthenal is superb,’ he repeated. ‘But he will die anyway.’

The Tiste Edur walked away.

Finally responding to shouts and entreaties from the onlookers, Karsa Orlong set the woman down onto the ground.

Three Letherii healers rushed in to tend to her.

Collecting his sword, Karsa straightened, then looked round.

Oh, thought Samar Dev, oh no.

But Icarium was gone. As was his Gral keeper.

The Toblakai walked towards her.

‘I didn’t need to know,’ she said.

‘No, you knew already.’

Oh, gods!

Then he drew closer and stared down at her. ‘The Jhag fled. The Trell who was with him is gone. Probably dead. Now there is a desert warrior I could break with one hand. There would have been none to stop us, this Icarium and me. He knew that. So he fled.’

‘You damned fool, Karsa. Icarium is not the kind of warrior who spars. Do you understand me?’

‘We would not have sparred, Samar Dev.’

‘So why spend yourself against him? Is it not these Edur and their Letherii slaves you seek vengeance against?’

‘When I am finished with their Emperor, I will seek out Icarium. We will finish what we began.’

‘Beware gathering the men before the battering ram, Karsa Orlong.’

‘A foolish saying,’ he pronounced after a moment.

‘Oh, and why is that?’

‘Among the Teblor, men are the battering ram. Look upon me, Samar Dev. I have fought and won. See the sweat on my muscles? Come lie with me.’

‘No, I feel sick.’

‘I will make you feel better. I will split you in two.’

‘That sounds fun. Go away.’

‘Must I hunt down another whore?’

‘They all run when they see you now, Karsa Orlong. In the opposite direction, I mean.’

He snorted, then looked round. ‘Perhaps the Seguleh.’

‘Oh, really! You just broke her arms!’

‘She won’t need them. Besides, the healers are mending her.’

‘Gods below, I’m leaving.’

As she strode away, she heard his rumbling laugh. Oh, I

know you make sport of me.l know and yet I fall into your traps every time. You are too clever, barbarian. Where is that thick’

skulled savage? The one to match your pose? * * *

Dragging mangled legs, every lurch stabbing pain along the length of his bent, twisted spine, Hannan Mosag squinted ahead, and could just make out the scree of river-polished stones rising like a road between the cliffs of the gorge. He did not know if what he was seeing was real.

Yet it felt right.

Like home.

Kurald Emurlahn, the Realm of Shadow. Not a fragment, not a torn smear riven through with impurities. Home, as it once was, before all the betrayals ripped it asunder. Paradise awaits us. In our minds. Ghost images, all perfection assembled by will and will alone. Believe what you see, Hannan Mosag. This is home.

And yet it resisted. Seeking to reject him, his broken body, his chaos-stained mind.

Mother Dark. Father Light. Look upon your crippled children. Upon me. Upon Emurlahn. Heal us. Do you not see the world fashioned in my mind? All as it once was. I hold still to this purity, to all that I sought to create in the mortal realm, among the tribes I brought to heel-the peace I demanded, and won.

None could have guessed my deepest desire. The Throne of Shadow-it was for me. And by my rule, Kurald Emurlahn would grow strong once again. Whole. Rightfully in its place.

Yes, there was chaos-the raw unbound power coursing like impassable rivers, isolating every island of Shadow. But 1 would have used that chaos-to heal.