The Malazan Empire Series: (Night of Knives, Return of the Crimson Guard, Stonewielder, Orb Sceptre Throne, Blood and Bone, Assail) (Novels of the Malazan Empire)

by Ian C. Esslemont

  ‘Yeah. In my bags. I’ll try and light it.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll cover you – though I can’t see a thing.’

  Antsy knelt and yanked off his bedroll and bags. Rummaging, he found the small metal box then dug out his tinderbox. ‘Pray Oponn’s with us,’ he murmured, and readied the flint and iron.

  He tapped down into the gathered tinder and kept at it until a glow betrayed itself. He blew gently, hands cupped. Between blows a tiny flame climbed to life within his hands. He held the wick to the tinder, turning it slightly to catch the fibres. A yellow-orange flame grew to life. Antsy carefully handed the box over to Corien then repacked.

  ‘Well, at least there’s no wind,’ the lad offered, his smile bright in the strengthening light.

  ‘Just like a gods-damned mine,’ Antsy grumbled, drawing a single long-knife. He took the lantern. ‘Let’s have a look.’

  The weak flickering flame hinted at an immense room. Fat pillars of black stone serried off into the distances. He could just be made out an arched ceiling. The polished stone of the floor appeared to be inlaid with what looked like a near infinity of gems. An unguessable fortune – yet none have claimed it.

  He didn’t want to find out why but was afraid he was going to anyway.

  Carefully advancing, they found Orchid standing motionless at the far end of the chamber. She stood before a chair – a huge seat carved from black stone. Antsy raised the lantern to see her staring upwards, seemingly enraptured.

  ‘Orchid,’ he whispered. ‘Are you all right?’

  Blinking, she glanced at him as if not seeing him then smiled, motioning all about. ‘Isn’t it wondrous?’

  ‘Orchid,’ he began gently, ‘we can’t see a damned thing.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry …’ She clapped her hands and gave a command, a single word in Tiste Andii. An ice-blue glow arose from the gems at her feet and expanded in all directions, the set gems coming to life all about the huge chamber, on the floor, the pillars, even the ceiling, until it was as if they stood suspended among an infinity of stars.

  Antsy and Corien turned full circles, stunned. Antsy blew out the lantern.

  ‘The Sacristy of Night. Perhaps,’ Orchid supplied.

  Most of the lights were mere tiny diamond-like pinpricks. Just like stars at night. But some were large pale blue balls suspended just overhead like moons. The room was now fully lit, but it was the cool silvery light of a full moon on a clear starry night. There was no sign of any sun anywhere in the sky.

  ‘It is said that this is a representation of what one would have seen from the homeland of the Andii,’ Orchid explained. ‘Perhaps. I don’t know for certain, of course.’

  ‘And this?’ Antsy motioned to the seat. ‘Is this … some kinda throne? Is this like a throne room?’

  ‘I don’t think so. More like a temple to Mother Dark, I should think. Sacred—’ She broke off.

  Antsy had seen them as well: shapes approaching. Like rippling cloths of pure black darkness. They’d seen one just like them before: the guardian who’d tried to kill them. He moved back to back with Corien. Damn it to Trake ! What could they do against these?

  One addressed Orchid in a whispered breathless version of Andii. She answered, then translated: ‘They say we are polluting sacred ground and that they will cleanse us.’

  ‘Ask for the way out and tell them we’ll go right away.’

  She spoke again and the same one answered. Orchid translated: ‘It says the way out is the way we came in.’

  ‘Perhaps there is a back door?’ Corien asked, raising his sword and gauche.

  The shapes were crowding very close now, almost a solid sheet of impenetrable black surrounding them. Orchid spoke again and was answered.

  ‘What did it say?’ Antsy asked.

  ‘You don’t want to know,’ Orchid said, her hands falling.

  ‘Try that incantation thing again,’ Antsy told her.

  ‘That won’t work here. We really are trespassing.’

  The scrap of elemental night gestured then, an unmistakable sign of dismissal or end of debate, and Antsy wondered whether munitions would have any effect upon them.

  Suddenly a new voice rang out, loud and firm, in the Andii tongue and the shapes stilled and edged away slightly. A man stepped through the ring. He was obviously Tiste Andii with his night-black skin, but there were differences from other Andii Antsy had seen. His eyes were the same almond shape but more lifeless-looking, being black on black. His hair was dark as well, and very long. He wore it braided and hanging forward over one shoulder. His clothes were dark yet rich: a shirt, vest and open robes all of a velvety cloth. He was also rather heavier-set than most Andii Antsy had met.

  The man faced an amazed Orchid, looked her up and down, and smiled. ‘I was meditating … saying my goodbyes if you will … when whispers reached me through the night of the True Tongue spoken by a young woman. At first I could not believe it. All were sent away. Yet here you are speaking the Noble Language. I cannot tell you how pleasing it is to me to hear it once more.’ He bowed, smiling even more broadly. ‘Forgive me, but it has been a very long time.’

  One of the shades spoke and the man frowned. He gave a curt answer but the shape replied firmly. The man turned from Orchid, crossed his arms. He spoke again, and while his tone seemed light enough Antsy sensed the iron beneath the words. It also seemed suddenly rather cold in the chamber. Antsy edged away from the man and noted that the gems beneath his boots no longer gave off light. As if they were dead, or had had all the light sucked from them.

  Then, raising the hair on Antsy’s neck, the entire ring of shades bowed to the man, murmuring. Orchid paled, a hand going to her throat as if to cut off what she almost blurted out.

  The shades withdrew and the man turned once more to Orchid. ‘My apologies. They have their duties. One mustn’t blame them for being true to their assigned tasks.’

  Antsy sheathed his long-knives. ‘Well, thanks for intervening. Do you know if there is another way out of this place? If there is, we’ll be on our way.’

  It was as if he’d not spoken at all. The man continued to study Orchid, his chin pinched between his fingers. ‘What is your name, child?’

  ‘Orchid.’

  ‘Orchid? In truth? That is an Andii name. Did you know that?’ Orchid’s face darkened even further in a blush. ‘No, sir. That is, no. I did not.’

  ‘And what’s your name?’ Antsy asked loudly. Corien set a hand on his elbow.

  The man’s unnerving black eyes slid to him. ‘You may call me Morn.’

  ‘Morn? Right. Well, you just point us in the right direction and we’ll leave you in peace.’

  The eyes slid back to Orchid. ‘Perhaps you should remain here. You would be safe and welcome.’

  If anything the girl paled even more to a sickly near-grey. ‘We must be moving on.’

  ‘What is it you seek?’

  ‘The Gap. We just want to get out of here.’

  The man frowned almost as if hurt. ‘Really, child? Don’t you wish to remain? To learn more of your inheritance?’

  Swaying, she barely whispered, ‘What do you mean?’

  Morn spread his arms wide to indicate the entire chamber and perhaps also everything beyond. ‘I mean, Orchid … welcome home, Child of the Night.’

  Her eyes rolled up then and she fainted. She would have smacked her head on the stone floor had not Antsy jumped forward to ease her fall.

  The place wasn’t so bad, Antsy reflected, once you got used to the wraith-like beasties occasionally wafting forward to look you over – perhaps searching for the best place to bite. In any case in terms of his own personal philosophy he couldn’t complain: he wasn’t dead yet.

  He and Corien saw to their weapons and armour. Corien morosely inspected what was left of his brocaded jacket. Orchid walked the chamber hounded by the creature Morn who seemed determined to persuade her to stay. Antsy hoped she wouldn’t be beaten down, despite the possible truth of this
revealed ancestry of hers. Which may or may not even be true. And frankly he had his doubts. He doubted everything until it betrayed him or bit him or tried to kill him – and then he knew he’d been right about it all along.

  And the old squadmates called me a pessimist. Given the state of the world I’m the realist!

  He and the lad then had a few practice sparring matches. Corien was still weak on one side but other than that Antsy knew he faced a duellist vastly more skilled than he. ‘You Darujhistani fellows all seem to be pretty damned good with the sword,’ he told him as they sat resting after a long bout. ‘Why’s that?’

  The lad’s shrug said he didn’t rightly know. ‘We have a tradition of swordsmanship that goes back a long way.’

  Antsy grunted his understanding. ‘Like where I’m from. We’ve been fighting each other for so long that forming line and taking orders is second nature.’

  Corien gave an easy admiring laugh. ‘That’s where we tend to fall short. On that forming line and taking orders part.’

  Orchid approached followed by her new shadow. Antsy pulled out a strip of dried meat and cut a bite off, chewing. ‘What’s the verdict?’ he asked around his mouthful.

  ‘We have to go. This place is still a deathtrap. The longer we remain … well. I’m afraid it will finally get us.’

  Antsy shoved home his knife. ‘I’m with you there.’

  Morn stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. ‘If you must go, allow me to guide you.’

  ‘We make for the Gap,’ Orchid warned, firm.

  ‘If that remains your wish.’

  ‘Do you know another way out of this place?’ Antsy asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay. Lead on.’

  The shade, or Andii, or whatever he was, bowed. ‘Very good.’

  They gathered together their gear. Orchid was also firm about carrying the remaining waterskins and shoulder bags of food and supplies – including Antsy’s pannier. He and Corien tried to talk her out of it but fared no better than Morn had in changing her mind.

  When they were ready she gestured Morn to go ahead. Antsy fell in next to her. He had the crossbow readied once more. ‘Will we still be able to see?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good.’ He cleared his throat, eyed Morn where he walked in front of them. ‘So … what do you think about his claim? You bein’ part Andii and that.’

  The tall girl bit her lip – she appeared terrified by the idea. ‘I don’t know. Part of me feels that it is right. But … I can’t be sure.’ Her gaze shifted to Morn. ‘Part of the reason I can’t be sure is I don’t know if we can trust this one.’

  Prudently, Antsy merely nodded his agreement.

  ‘He is more than he pretends to be,’ she continued. ‘The shades … maybe I misheard, or mistranslated, but when they bowed … they called him Lord.’

  Antsy’s brows rose in appreciation. Really? Some kinda Andii high muckety-muck. Or the ghost of one. Who knew? He joined Orchid in studying the man’s back and wondered: had they just made a bad trade … Malakai for this fellow?

  Morn led them through a maze of chambers and halls. What they found cluttering these rooms made Antsy regret his vow not to stop to loot. Obviously no one had ever reached these precincts and the riches revealed made him almost whimper. The collected treasures of uncounted centuries lay sprawled at his feet like the wreckage of a siege. Shattered delicate glass artwork, fragments of precious ceramics, paintings, busts carved in precious stone. Even upended tables and furniture that were themselves beautiful works of art. He winced as his sandalled feet ground priceless fragments into the stone floor.

  The deep aquamarine monochrome mage-light made it impossible to distinguish one gem from another, or gold from other metals, but he wasn’t above picking up the odd stone or small piece of metalwork to study it more closely. Ahead, Morn studiously ignored his darting and stooping like a scavenging bird at a battlefield.

  ‘Look here,’ Orchid murmured, awed. She’d stopped at an immense tapestry that hung fully five paces from floor to ceiling. It was the representation of a city hugging the coast of a lake. Galleys plied the waves. Men and women crowded the waterfront dressed in unfamiliar archaic costume. They were busy at markets, buying and selling fruit, birds, carpets, finely wrought furniture, even horses. One immense pale blue dome dominated the city’s skyline. Pearl white, Antsy guessed it would be, in the light of day.

  ‘That is Darujhistan,’ Corien announced, surprised. ‘Or looks like it. There’s no dome like that.’

  ‘Darujhistan more than two thousand years ago,’ Morn supplied. He had returned to them, utterly silent. ‘During the age of the Tyrant Kings. It is said none could match their mastery of sorcery.’

  ‘I know of no dome like that,’ Corien said, dubious.

  Hands clasped at his back, Morn raised and dropped his shoulders. ‘I understand much was lost during the cataclysm of their fall.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Antsy demanded.

  Corien winced and Orchid sent a glare, but the Andii seemed unruffled. ‘It is true. I have been … away … for some time. But I was scrupulous in questioning everyone I met for news. There was little else to do where I’ve been all this time.’

  Antsy snorted his scepticism. Morn merely gestured ahead. ‘This way, if you please. There is a light in the next corridor.’

  Antsy gaped. ‘What? Why didn’t you say so?’

  ‘You didn’t ask.’

  ‘And all this time we’ve been—’ He clamped his mouth shut and signed to Corien in the hand signals he’d been teaching the lad. Scout ahead.

  Corien nodded, jogged off.

  Antsy shouldered his crossbow, gestured that Orchid should stay behind him, and followed.

  He found the lad waiting at a corner. Corien pointed ahead and held up one finger. One. A sentry. Antsy motioned him aside, glanced round the corner. One fellow, sheathed swords at his sides, standing straight in the middle of the corridor with a lamp behind, facing their way. Canny, that. Not facing the light.

  He raised the crossbow, nodded to Corien, who slowly drew his weapons. He took three short breaths, steadied his arms, then stepped out from the corner training the crossbow on the man. ‘Don’t move!’ he commanded. ‘You’re covered.’ Corien stepped out with him, weapons bared.

  The figure didn’t even flinch; his hands remained at his belt. The head turned slightly and one word was called in some language Antsy didn’t recognize. ‘Don’t move!’ he ordered again. The fellow appeared to be wearing the lightest of armour, leathers only, but also some sort of helmet. He’d made no move to his sheathed weapons.

  As they came closer, a gasp sounded from Orchid and Corien straightened, grunting his surprise. His weapons fell slightly. The barbed point of Antsy’s bolt didn’t waver from the man’s chest. ‘Who’re you?’ he challenged.

  ‘Red …’ Orchid began, a warning in her voice.

  The fellow didn’t answer. Closer, he saw in the dim light that the man was in fact a woman, and that she wore a simple small mask that hid the upper half of her face. A mask? Who did she think she was? A fucking robber?

  Another fellow came jogging up the corridor and Antsy swung his crossbow. ‘You’re covered!’ he called.

  Orchid touched his arm. ‘Red …’

  ‘Get back, dammit.’

  Corien suddenly sheathed his weapons.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Antsy snarled.

  ‘It’s all right, Red.

  ‘What? Tell me why this is all right.’

  The newcomer stepped forward, hands at his sides. He too wore some sort of multicoloured mask.

  ‘No further!’ Antsy barked. ‘Or you are a dead man.’

  ‘Who are you?’ the man called in oddly accented Daru.

  ‘Who am I?’ Antsy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘I’m holding the crossbow here! Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Enoi. Please step forward and let us speak.’
>
  Orchid tightened her grip on his arm. ‘Red. It’s okay. Lower the weapon.’

  He spared her one quick glance. ‘Why? Why the name of dead Hood should I lower my weapon?’

  ‘They are Seguleh,’ Corien said.

  ‘Seguleh? Really?’ He’d heard the stories, of course. But he’d never thought he’d ever actually meet one. He lowered the crossbow, slightly, to study them, curious. So, Seguleh are they? Everyone says just three of them defeated the entire Pannion army.

  Not true, of course. But it made for a great story around the campfire. When neither went for their weapons Antsy set the crossbow butt to his hip. ‘What do you want?’ he called.

  The man, or youth, judging from his clean chin, stepped forward. A multitude of shades swirled across his mask – all variations of blue to Antsy’s mage-sight. ‘You wish to pass through to the upper galleries, yes?’ he said.

  ‘What of it?’ Antsy said.

  The masked face shifted to study Morn. ‘You do not impress us,’ he said. ‘We do not fear ancient shades.’ Morn provided the ghost of a smile. The youth looked back to Antsy. ‘You may pass. All we ask is that you swear a vow to us.’

  ‘Swear a vow? To you?’ Antsy laughed his disbelief.

  ‘What is it?’ Orchid asked, very quickly.

  ‘That should you find one particular object you will relinquish it to us before you leave this rock.’

  Antsy laughed again. These fellows were the most naïve idiots he’d ever met! ‘And this thing? What is it?’

  ‘A piece of artwork stolen from my people long ago. It is a legacy of ours. We believe it to be somewhere within the Spawn, as it is our belief that its master, Blacksword, either took it, or acquired it. It is of little monetary value but important to our religion. A plain white mask. Of little value to any but us.’

  ‘I do so swear,’ Morn said immediately, sounding even more solemn than usual.

  ‘And I,’ Orchid echoed.

  ‘I also swear,’ Corien said, enacting a Darujhistani courtier’s bow.

  Antsy eyed the lot of them. ‘Just what in the Abyss is going on? Some masked clown walks up, tells you to swear, and you bow to him?’