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

Then, if the players come and go, while the rules never change, does not that heap in fact command the game? Would you bow to this god of gol?? This insen-sate illusion of value?

Bow, then. Press forehead to the hard floor. But when it all goes wrong, show me no affronted disbelief.

Yes, Anomander Rake would take that burden, and carry it into a new world. But he would offer no absolution. He would deliver but one gift-an undeserved one-and that was time.

The most precious privilege of all. And what, pray tell, shall we do with it?

Off to his left, surmounting a much higher tower, a dragon fixed slitted eyes upon a decrepit camp beyond the veil of Night. No rain could blind it, no excuse could brave its unwavering regard. Silanah watched. And waited.

But the waiting was almost over.

Rush then, to this feast. Rush, ye hungry ones, to the meat of glee.

The wall had never been much to begin with. Dismantled in places, unfinished in others. It would never have withstood a siege for any length of time. Despite its execrable condition, the breach made by the Hounds of Shadow was obvious. An entire gate was gone, filled with the flame-licked wreckage of the blockhouses and a dozen nearby structures. Figures now clambered in its midst, hunting sur-vivors, fighting the flames.

Beyond it, vast sections of the city-where heaving clouds of smoke lifted sky-ward, lit bright by raging gas-fires-suddenly ebbed, as if Darujhistan’s very breath had been snatched away. Samar Dev staggered, fell to her knees. The pressure closing about her head felt moments from crushing the plates of her skull. She cried out even as Karsa crouched down beside her.

Ahead, Traveller had swung away from the destroyed gate, seeking instead an-other portal to the east, through which terrified refugees now spilled out into the ramshackle neighbourhood of shanties, where new fires had erupted from knocked-down shacks and in the wake of fleeing squatters. How Traveller intended to push his way through that mob-

‘Witch, you must concentrate.’

‘What?’

‘In your mind, raise a wall. On all sides. Make it strong, give it the power to withstand the one who has arrived,’

She pulled away from his hand. ‘Who? Who has arrived? By the spirits, I can’t stand-’

He slapped her, hard enough to knock her down.Stunned, she stared up at him.

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Then, if the players come and go, while the rules never change, does not that heap in fact command the game? Would you bow to this god of gol?? This insen-sate illusion of value?

Bow, then. Press forehead to the hard floor. But when it all goes wrong, show me no affronted disbelief.

Yes, Anomander Rake would take that burden, and carry it into a new world. But he would offer no absolution. He would deliver but one gift-an undeserved one-and that was time.

The most precious privilege of all. And what, pray tell, shall we do with it?

Off to his left, surmounting a much higher tower, a dragon fixed slitted eyes upon a decrepit camp beyond the veil of Night. No rain could blind it, no excuse could brave its unwavering regard. Silanah watched. And waited.

But the waiting was almost over.

Rush then, to this feast. Rush, ye hungry ones, to the meat of glee.

The wall had never been much to begin with. Dismantled in places, unfinished in others. It would never have withstood a siege for any length of time. Despite its execrable condition, the breach made by the Hounds of Shadow was obvious. An entire gate was gone, filled with the flame-licked wreckage of the blockhouses and a dozen nearby structures. Figures now clambered in its midst, hunting sur-vivors, fighting the flames.

Beyond it, vast sections of the city-where heaving clouds of smoke lifted sky-ward, lit bright by raging gas-fires-suddenly ebbed, as if Darujhistan’s very breath had been snatched away. Samar Dev staggered, fell to her knees. The pressure closing about her head felt moments from crushing the plates of her skull. She cried out even as Karsa crouched down beside her.

Ahead, Traveller had swung away from the destroyed gate, seeking instead an-other portal to the east, through which terrified refugees now spilled out into the ramshackle neighbourhood of shanties, where new fires had erupted from knocked-down shacks and in the wake of fleeing squatters. How Traveller intended to push his way through that mob-

‘Witch, you must concentrate.’

‘What?’

‘In your mind, raise a wall. On all sides. Make it strong, give it the power to withstand the one who has arrived,’

She pulled away from his hand. ‘Who? Who has arrived? By the spirits, I can’t stand-’

He slapped her, hard enough to knock her down.Stunned, she stared up at him.

‘Samar Dev, I do not know who, or what-it is not the Hounds. Not even Shad-owthrone. Someone is there, and that someone blazes. I-I cannot imagine such a being-’

‘A god.’

He shrugged. ‘Build your walls.’

The pressure had eased and she wondered at that, and then realized that Karsa had moved round, placing himself between her and the city. She saw sweat running down the Toblakai’s face, streaming like rain. She saw the tightness in his. eyes. ‘Karsa-’

‘If we are to follow, you and me both, then you must do this. Build walls, Witch, and hurry.’

His gaze lifted to something behind her and all at once she felt a breath of power at her back, gusting against her, sinking past clothes, past skin, through flesh and then deep into her bones. She gasped.

The pressure was pushed back, left to rage against immense barriers now shielding her mind.

She climbed to her feet.

Side by side, they set out after Traveller.

He was cutting across a ragged strip of fallow field, dust rising with each stride, making for the gate at a sharp angle.

The surging mob of people blocking the portal seemed to melt back, and she wondered what those refugees had seen in Traveller’s face as he marched straight for them. Whatever it had been, clearly it was not something to be challenged.

A strange, diffuse light now painted the city, the uneven wall, the domes, minarets and spires visible behind it. From a thousand throats erupted a moaning wail. Of shock, of dread. She saw faces lift, one by one. She saw eyes widen.

Grunting, Karsa glanced back, and then halted. ‘Gods below!’

She spun. The giant bear loomed twenty or so paces back, its outline limned by a silver light-and that light-

The moon had finally clambered free of the horizon-but it was… Queen of Dreams -

‘Shattered,’ Karsa said. ‘The moon has shattered. Faces in the Rock, what has happened?’

What rose now into the sky was a mass of fragments, torn apart amidst a cloud of thin rings of dust. It had expanded in its eruption and was now twice its normal size. Huge chunks were visibly spiralling away from the centre. The light it cast was sickly yet astonishingly bright.

The monstrous bear had half turned and was lifting its snout towards that dev-astated world, as if it was capable of smelling death across the span of countless leagues.