Deadhouse Gates

'Just hold tight,' she growled. 'They aren't so steep.'

They aren't so steep? Fener's-

Muscles surged beneath them as the stallion plunged forward. Before the beast's hooves struck the stones, however, the world shifted into formless grey. The stallion screamed and reared back, but too late. The warren swallowed them.

Hooves skidded wildly beneath them. Kalam was thrown to one side, met a wall and was scraped off. A polished floor rose up to meet him, punched the air from his lungs. The crossbow flew from his hands and skittered away. Gasping, the assassin slowly rolled over.

They had arrived in a musty hallway, and the stallion was anything but pleased. The ceiling was high and arched, with an arm's reach to spare above the rearing animal. Somehow Minala had stayed in the saddle. She struggled to calm the stallion, and a moment later succeeded, leaning forward to rest one hand lightly just behind its flaring nostrils.

With a groan, Kalam climbed to his feet.

'Where are we?' Minala hissed, staring up and down the long, empty hall.

'If I'm correct, Mock's Hold,' the assassin muttered, retrieving the crossbow. 'The Empress knows we're coming — seems she's grown impatient…'

'If that's the case, Kalam, we're as good as dead.'

He was not inclined to disagree, but said nothing, stepping past the horse and eyeing the doors at the far end. 'I think we're in the Old Keep.'

'That explains the dust — even so, it smells like a stable.'

'Not surprising — half this building's been converted into just that. The Main Hall remains, though.' He nodded towards the doors. 'Through there.'

'No other approaches?'

He shook his head. 'None surviving. Her back door will be a warren, in any case.'

Minala grunted and climbed down from the saddle. 'Do you think she's been watching?'

'Magically? Maybe — you're wondering if she knows about you.' He hesitated, then handed her the crossbow. 'Let's pretend she doesn't. Hold back — I'll lead the stallion through.'

She nodded, cocking the weapon.

He looked at her. 'How in Hood's name did you get here?'

'The Imperial transport that left a day after Ragstopper. This horse wasn't out of place among Pormqual's breeders. We, too, were caught in that cursed storm, but the only real trouble came when we had to disembark from the bay. That's a swim I don't want to repeat. Ever.'

The assassin's eyes widened. 'Hood's breath, woman!' He looked away, then back. 'Why?'

She bared her teeth. 'Can you really be that dense, Kalam? In any case, was I wrong?'

There were some barriers the assassin had never expected to be breached. Their swift crumble left him breathless. 'All right,' he finally said, 'but I'll have you know, I'm anything but subtle.'

Her brows arched. 'You could have fooled me.'

Kalam faced the doors once again. He was armed with a single knife and had lost too much blood. Hardly what you'd call properly equipped to assassinate an Empress, but it will have to do. . Without another word to Minala, he slipped forward, gathering the stallion's reins. The animal's hooves clopped loudly as they approached the old double doors.

He laid a hand against the wood. The dark-stained planks were sweating. There's sorcery on the other side. Powerful sorcery. He stepped back, met Minala's eyes where she stood ten paces back, and slowly shook his head.

She shrugged, lifting the crossbow in her hands.

He faced the doors again and gripped the latch of the one to his left. It lifted silently.

Kalam pushed the door open.

Inky darkness flowed out, bitter cold.

'Step within, Kalam Mekhar,' a woman's voice invited.

He saw little option. He had come for this, though the final shaping was not as he would have liked. The assassin strode into the dark, the stallion following.

'That is close enough. Unlike Topper and his Claw, I do not underestimate you.'

He could see nothing, and the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. The door behind him — slightly ajar — offered a slight lessening of the gloom, but that reached buta pace or two before the blackness absorbed it entirely.

'You've come to kill me, Bridgeburner,' Empress Laseen said in a cool, dry voice. 'All this way. Why?'

The question startled him.

There was wry amusement in her voice as she continued, 'I cannot believe that you must struggle to find your answer, Kalam.'

'The deliberate murder of the Bridgeburners,' the assassin growled. 'The outlawing of Dujek Onearm. The attempted murders of Whiskeyjack, myself and the rest of the Ninth Squad. Old disappearances. A possible hand in Dassem Ultor's death. The assassination of Dancer and the Emperor. Incompetence, ignorance, betrayal…' He let his litany fall away.

Empress Laseen was silent for a long time, then she said in a low tone, 'And you are to be my judge. And executioner.'

'That's about right.'

'Am I permitted a defence?'

He bared his teeth. The voice was coming from everywhere — everywhere but one place, he now realized, the corner off to his left, a corner that he estimated was no more than four strides away. 'You can try, Empress.' Hood's breath, I can barely stand upright, and she's most likely got wards. As Quick Ben says, when you've got nothing, bluff. .

Laseen's tone hardened. 'High Mage Tayschrenn's efforts in Genabackis were misguided. The decimation of the Bridgeburners was not a part of my intentions. Within your squad was a young woman, possessed by a god that sought to kill me. Adjunct Lorn was sent to deal with her-'

'I know about that, Empress. You're wasting time.'

'I do not see it as a waste, given that time may be all I shall enjoy here in the mortal realm. Now, to continue answering your charges. The outlawing of Dujek is a temporary measure, a ruse, in fact. We perceived the threat that was the Pannion Domin. Dujek, however, was of the opinion that he could not deal with it on his own. We needed to fashion allies of enemies, Kalam. We needed Darujhistan's resources, we needed Caladan Brood and his Rhivi and Barghast, we needed Anomander Rake and his Tiste Andii. And we needed the Crimson Guard off our backs. Now, none of those formidable forces are strangers to pragmatism — one and all they could see the threat represented by the Pannion Seer and his rising empire. But the question of trust remained problematic. I agreed to Dujek's plan to cut him and his Host loose. As outlaws, they are, in effect, distanced from the Malazan Empire and its desires — our answer, if you will, to the issue of trust.'

Kalam's eyes narrowed in thought. 'And who knows of this ruse?'

'Only Dujek and Tayschrenn.'

After a moment he grunted. 'And what of the High Mage? What's his role in all this?'

He heard the smile as she said, 'Ah, well, he remains in the background, out of sight, but there for Dujek should Onearm need him. Tayschrenn is Dujek's — how do you soldiers say it — his shaved knuckle in the hole.'

Kalam was silent for a long minute. The only sounds in the chamber were his breathing and the slow but steady drip of his blood onto the flagstones. Then he said, 'There are older crimes that remain…' The assassin frowned. The only sounds. .

'Assassinating Kellanved and Dancer? Aye, I ended their rule of the Malazan Empire. Usurped the throne. A most vicious betrayal, in truth. An empire is greater than any lone mortal-'

'Including you.'

'Including me. An empire enforces its own necessities, makes demands in the name of duty — and that particular burden is something you, as a soldier, most certainly understand. I knew those two men very well, Kalam — a claim you cannot make. I answered a necessity I could not avoid, with reluctance, with anguish. Since that