The Malazan Empire

by Steven Erikson

  ‘I would think,’ Onrack replied, as they slowed their pace to match that of the tortoise, ‘that it feels the same.’

  ‘Hence this grand journey…indeed, a noble quest, in which I find a certain sympathy.’

  ‘You miss your kin, then, do you, Trull Sengar?’

  ‘Too general a statement.’

  ‘Ah, the needs of procreation.’

  ‘Hardly. My needs have nothing to do with engendering whelps with my hairline, nor, gods forbid, my ears.’ He reached down and tapped the tortoise’s dusty shell. ‘Like this fellow here, there’s no time to think of eggs it won’t even lay. Singular intent, disconnected from time—from those messy consequences that inevitably follow, if only to afflict whatever lass tortoise our dogged friend here happens to pounce upon.’

  ‘They are not wont to pounce, Trull Sengar. Indeed, the act is a far more clumsy endeavour—’

  ‘Aren’t they all?’

  ‘My own memories—’

  ‘Enough of that, Onrack. Do you think I want to hear of your supple prowess? I will have you know that I have yet to lie with a woman. Thus, I am left with naught but my sparsely seeded imagination. Inflict no luscious details upon me, I beg you.’

  The T’lan Imass slowly turned its head. ‘It is your people’s custom to withhold such activities until marriage?’

  ‘It is. It wasn’t among the Imass?’

  ‘Well, yes, it was. But the custom was flouted at every opportunity. In any case, as I explained earlier, I had a mate.’

  ‘Whom you gave up because you fell in love with another woman.’

  ‘Gave up, Trull Sengar? No. Whom I lost. Nor was that loss solitary. They never are. From all you have said, I assume then that you are rather young.’

  The Tiste Edur shrugged. ‘I suppose I am, especially in my present company.’

  ‘Then let us leave this creature’s side, so as to spare you the reminder.’

  Trull Sengar shot the T’lan Imass a look, then grinned. ‘Good idea.’

  They increased their pace, and within a few strides had left the tortoise behind. Glancing back, Trull Sengar gave a shout.

  Onrack halted and swung round.

  The tortoise was turning back, stumpy legs taking it in a wide circle.

  ‘What is it doing?’

  ‘It has finally seen us,’ Onrack replied, ‘and so it runs away.’

  ‘Ah, no fun and games tonight, then. Poor beast.’

  ‘In time it will judge it safe to resume its journey, Trull Sengar. We have presented but a momentary obstacle.’

  ‘A humbling reminder, then.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  The day was cloudless, heat rising from the old seabed in shimmering waves. The odhan’s grassy steppes resumed a few thousand paces ahead. The salt-crusted ground resisted signs of passages, though Onrack could detect the subtle indications left behind by the six renegade T’lan Imass, a scrape here, a scuff there. One of the six dragged a leg as it walked, whilst another placed more weight on one side than the other. They were all no doubt severely damaged. The Ritual, despite the cessation of the Vow itself, had left residual powers, but there was something else as well, a vague hint of chaos, of unknown warrens—or perhaps familiar ones twisted beyond recognition. There was, Onrack suspected, a bonecaster among those six.

  Olar Ethil, Kilava Onas, Monok Ochem, Hentos Ilm, Tem Benasto, Ulpan Nodost, Tenag Ilbaie, Ay Estos, Absin Tholai…the bonecasters of the Logros T’lan Imass. Who among them are lost? Kilava, of course, but that is as it has always been. Hentos Ilm and Monok Ochem have both in their turn partaken of the hunt. Olar Ethil seeks the other armies of the T’lan Imass—for the summons was heard by all. Benasto and Ulpan remain with Logros. Ay Estos was lost here on the Jhag Odhan in the last war. I know naught of the fate of Absin Tholai. Leaving Tenag Ilbaie, whom Logros sent to the Kron, to aid in the L’aederon Wars. Thus. Absin Tholai, Tenag Ilbaie or Ay Estos.

  Of course, there was no reason to assume that the renegades were from the Logros, although their presence here on this continent suggested so, since the caves and the weapons caches were not the only ones to exist; similar secret places could be found on every other continent. Yet these renegades had come to Seven Cities, to the very birthplace of the First Empire, in order to recover their weapons. And it was Logros who was tasked with the holding of the homeland.

  ‘Trull Sengar?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What do you know of the cult of the Nameless Ones?’

  ‘Only that they’re very successful.’

  The T’lan Imass cocked its head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, their existence has remained hidden from me. I’ve never heard of them.’

  Ah. ‘Logros commanded that the First Throne be removed from this land, because the Nameless Ones were drawing ever closer to discovering its location. They had come to realize that its power could be claimed, that the T’lan Imass could be made to bow in service to the first mortal to seat him or herself upon it.’

  ‘And Logros didn’t want one of these Nameless Ones to be that mortal. Why? What terrible purpose drives them? And before you answer, Onrack, I should tell you that as far as I am concerned, “terrible purpose” has rather dire measure, given both your kind and my own.’

  ‘I understand, Trull Sengar, and it is a valid point you make. The Nameless Ones serve the Houses of the Azath. Logros believed that, had a priest of that cult taken the First Throne, the first and only command given to the T’lan Imass would be to voluntarily accept eternal imprisonment. We would have been removed from this world.’

  ‘So the throne was moved.’

  ‘Yes, to a continent south of Seven Cities. Where it was found by a mage—Kellanved, the Emperor of the Malazan Empire.’

  ‘Who now commands all the T’lan Imass? No wonder the Malazan Empire is as powerful as it seems to be—then again, by now, it should have conquered the whole world, since he could have called upon all the T’lan Imass to fight his wars.’

  ‘The Emperor’s exploitation of our abilities was…modest. Surprisingly constrained. He was then assassinated. The new Empress does not command us.’

  ‘Why didn’t she just sit on the First Throne herself?’

  ‘She would, could she find it.’

  ‘Ah, so you are free once more.’

  ‘So it seems,’ Onrack replied after a moment. ‘There are other…concerns, Trull Sengar. Kellanved was resident in a House of the Azath for a time…’

  They reached the slope beyond the salt flat, began making their way upward. ‘These are matters of which I know very little,’ the Tiste Edur said. ‘You fear that the Emperor was either one of these Nameless Ones, or had contact with them. If so, then why didn’t he issue that one command you so dreaded?’

  ‘We do not know.’

  ‘How did he manage to find the First Throne in the first place?’

  ‘We do not know.’

  ‘All right. Now, what has all this to do with what we are up to right now?’

  ‘A suspicion, Trull Sengar, regarding where these six renegade T’lan Imass are heading.’

  ‘Well, southward, it seems. Oh, I see.’

  ‘If there are among them kin of Logros, then they know where the First Throne will be found.’

  ‘Well, is there any reason to believe that you are unique among the T’lan Imass? Do you not think others of your kind may have arrived at the same suspicion?’

  ‘I am not sure of that. I share something with the renegades that they do not, Trull Sengar. Like them, I am unburdened. Freed from the Ritual’s Vow. This has resulted in a certain…liberation of thought. Monok Ochem and Ibra Gholan pursue a quarry, and the mind of a hunter is ever consumed by that quarry.’

  They reached the first rise and halted. Onrack drew out his sword and jammed it point first into the ground, so deep that it remained standing upright when he walked away from it. He took ten paces before stopping once more.

  ‘What are y
ou doing?’

  ‘If you do not object, Trull Sengar, I would await Monok Ochem and Ibra Gholan. They, and Logros in turn, must be informed of my suspicion.’

  ‘And you assume that Monok will spare us the time to talk? Our last moments together were less than pleasant, as I recall. I’d feel better if you weren’t standing so far away from your sword.’ The Tiste Edur found a nearby boulder to sit on, and regarded Onrack for a long moment before continuing, ‘And what about what you did in the cave, where that Tellann Ritual was active?’ He gestured at Onrack’s new left arm and the melded additions to the other places where damage had occurred. ‘It’s…obvious. That arm’s shorter than your own, you know. Noticeably. Something tells me you weren’t supposed to do…what you did.’

  ‘You are right…or would be, were I still bound by the Vow.’

  ‘I see. And will Monok Ochem display similar equanimity when he sees what you have done?’

  ‘I do not expect so.’

  ‘Didn’t you proclaim a vow to serve me, Onrack?’

  The T’lan Imass lifted its head. ‘I did.’

  ‘And what if I don’t want to see you put yourself—and me, I might add—at such risk?’

  ‘You make a valid point, Trull Sengar, which I had not considered. However, let me ask you this. These renegades serve the same master as do your kin. Should they lead one of your mortal kin to take the First Throne, thus acquiring mastery over all the T’lan Imass, do you imagine they will be as circumspect in using those armies as was Emperor Kellanved?’

  The Tiste Edur said nothing for a time, then he sighed. ‘All right. But you lead me to wonder, if the First Throne is so vulnerable, why have you not set someone of your own choosing upon it?’

  ‘To command the First Throne, one must be mortal. Which mortal can we trust to such a responsibility? We did not even choose Kellanved—his exploitation was opportunistic. Furthermore, the issue may soon become irrelevant. The T’lan Imass have been summoned—and all hear it, whether bound to the Vow or freed from it. A new, mortal bonecaster has arisen in a distant land.’

  ‘And you want that bonecaster to take the First Throne.’

  ‘No. We want the summoner to free us all.’

  ‘From the Vow?’

  ‘No. From existence, Trull Sengar.’ Onrack shrugged heavily. ‘Or so, I expect, the Bound will ask, or, perhaps, have already asked. Oddly enough, I find that I do not share that sentiment any more.’

  ‘Nor would any others who’d escaped the Vow. I would think, then, that this new mortal bonecaster is in grave danger.’

  ‘And so protected accordingly.’

  ‘Are you able to resist that bonecaster’s summons?’

  ‘I am…free to choose.’

  The Tiste Edur cocked his head. ‘It would seem, Onrack, that you are already free. Maybe not in the way that this bonecaster might offer you, but even so…’

  ‘Yes. But the alternative I represent is not available to those still bound by the Vow.’

  ‘Let’s hope Monok Ochem is not too resentful.’

  Onrack slowly turned. ‘We shall see.’

  Dust swirled upward from the grasses at the edge of the crest, twin columns that resolved into the bonecaster Monok Ochem and the clan leader, Ibra Gholan. The latter lifted its sword and strode directly towards Onrack.

  Trull Sengar stepped into the warrior’s path. ‘Hold, Ibra Gholan. Onrack has information you will want to hear. Bonecaster Monok Ochem—you especially, so call off the clan leader. Listen first, then decide whether Onrack has earned a reprieve.’

  Ibra Gholan halted, then took a single step back, lowering its sword.

  Onrack studied Monok Ochem. Though the spiritual chains that had once linked them had since snapped, the bonecaster’s enmity—Monok’s fury—was palpable. Onrack knew his list of crimes, of outrages, had grown long, and this last theft of the body parts of another T’lan Imass was the greatest abomination, the most dire twisting of the powers of Tellann thus far. ‘Monok Ochem. The renegades would lead their new master to the First Throne. They travel the paths of chaos. It is their intent, I believe, to place a mortal Tiste Edur upon that throne. Such a new ruler of the T’lan Imass would, in turn, command the new mortal bonecaster—the one who has voiced the summons.’

  Ibra Gholan slowly turned to face Monok Ochem, and Onrack could sense their consternation.

  Onrack then continued, ‘Inform Logros that I, Onrack, and the one to whom I am now bound—the Tiste Edur Trull Sengar—share your dismay. We would work in concert with you.’

  ‘Logros hears you,’ Monok Ochem rasped, ‘and accepts.’

  The swiftness of that surprised Onrack and he cocked his head. A moment’s thought, then, ‘How many guardians protect the First Throne?’

  ‘None.’

  Trull Sengar straightened. ‘None?’

  ‘Do any T’lan Imass remain on the continent of Quon Tali?’ Onrack asked.

  ‘No, Onrack the Broken,’ Monok Ochem replied. ‘This intention you describe was…unanticipated. Logros’s army is massed here in Seven Cities.’

  Onrack had never before experienced such agitation, rattling through him, and he identified the emotion, belatedly, as shock. ‘Monok Ochem, why has Logros not marched in answer to the summons?’

  ‘Representatives were sent,’ the bonecaster replied. ‘Logros holds his army here in anticipation of imminent need.’

  Need? ‘And none can be spared?’

  ‘No, Onrack the Broken. None can be spared. In any case, we are closest to the renegades.’

  ‘There are, I believe, six renegades,’ Onrack said. ‘And one among them is a bonecaster. Monok Ochem, while we may well succeed in intercepting them, we are too few…’

  ‘At least let me find a worthy weapon,’ Trull Sengar muttered. ‘I may end up facing my own kin, after all.’

  Ibra Gholan spoke. ‘Tiste Edur, what is your weapon of choice?’

  ‘Spear. I am fair with a bow as well, but for combat…spear.’

  ‘I will acquire one for you,’ the clan leader said. ‘And a bow as well. Yet I am curious—there were spears to be found among the cache you but recently departed. Why did you not avail yourself of a weapon at that time?’

  Trull Sengar’s reply was low and cool. ‘I am not a thief.’

  The clan leader faced Onrack, then said, ‘You chose well, Onrack the Broken.’

  I know. ‘Monok Ochem, has Logros a thought as to who the renegade bonecaster might be?’

  ‘Tenag Ilbaie,’ Monok Ochem immediately replied. ‘It is likely he has chosen a new name.’

  ‘And Logros is certain?’

  ‘All others are accounted for, barring Kilava Onas.’

  Who remains in her mortal flesh and so cannot be among the renegades. ‘Born of Ban Raile’s clan, a tenag Soletaken. Before he was chosen as the clan’s bonecaster, he was known as Haran ’Alle, birthed as he was in the Summer of the Great Death among the Caribou. He was a loyal bonecaster—’

  ‘Until he failed against the Forkrul Assail in the L’aederon Wars,’ Monok Ochem cut in.

  ‘As we in turn fail,’ Onrack rasped.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Monok Ochem demanded. ‘In what way have we failed?’

  ‘We chose to see failure as disloyalty, Bonecaster. Yet in our harsh judgement of fallen kin, we committed our own act of disloyalty. Tenag Ilbaie strove to succeed in his task. His defeat was not by choice. Tell me, when have we ever triumphed in a clash with Forkrul Assail? Thus, Tenag Ilbaie was doomed from the very beginning. Yet he accepted what was commanded of him. Knowing full well he would be destroyed and so condemned. I have learned this, Monok Ochem, and through you shall say to Logros and all the T’lan Imass: these renegades are of our own making.’

  ‘Then it falls to us to deal with them,’ Ibra Gholan growled.

  ‘And what if we should fail?’ Onrack asked.

  To that, neither T’lan Imass gave answer.

  Trull Sengar sighed. ‘If we are to
indeed intercept these renegades, we should get moving.’

  ‘We shall travel by the Warren of Tellann,’ Monok Ochem said. ‘Logros has given leave that you may accompany us on that path.’

  ‘Generous of him,’ Trull Sengar muttered.

  As Monok Ochem prepared to open the warren, the bonecaster paused and looked back at Onrack once more. ‘When you…repaired yourself, Onrack the Broken…where was the rest of the body?’

  ‘I do not know. It had been…taken away.’

  ‘And who destroyed it in the first place?’

  Indeed, a troubling question. ‘I do not know, Monok Ochem. There is another detail that left me uneasy.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘The renegade was cut in half by a single blow.’

  The winding track that led up the boulder-strewn hillside was all too familiar, and Lostara Yil could feel the scowl settling into her face. Pearl remained a few paces behind her, muttering every time her boots dislodged a stone that tumbled downward. She heard him curse as one such rock cracked against a shin, and felt the scowl shift into a savage smile.

  The bastard’s smooth surface was wearing off, revealing unsightly patches that she found cause both for derision and a strange, insipid attraction. Too old to dream of perfection, perhaps, she had instead discovered a certain delicious appeal in flaws. And Pearl had plenty of those.

  He resented most the relinquishing of the lead, but this terrain belonged to Lostara, to her memories. The ancient, exposed temple floor lay directly ahead, the place where she had driven a bolt into Sha’ik’s forehead. And, if not for those two bodyguards—that Toblakai in particular—that day would have ended in even greater triumph, as the Red Blades returned to G’danisban with Sha’ik’s head riding a lance. Thus ending the rebellion before it began.

  So many lives saved, had that occurred, had reality played out as seamlessly as the scene in her mind. On such things, the fate of an entire subcontinent had irrevocably tumbled headlong into this moment’s sordid, blood-soaked situation.

  That damned Toblakai. With that damned wooden sword. If not for him, what would this day be like? We’d likely not be here, for one thing. Felisin Paran would not have needed to cross all of Seven Cities seeking to avoid murder at the hands of frenzied rebels. Coltaine would be alive, closing the imperial fist around every smouldering ember before it rose in conflagration. And High Fist Pormqual would have been sent to the Empress to give an accounting of his incompetence and corruption. All, but for that one obnoxious Toblakai…