Memories of Ice

formidable personages in any case?'

She hesitated, then shook her head. 'No, why precipitate a confrontation? I must now turn to my own … destiny. If you please, Kruppe, inform no-one of my departure. At least not for a while.'

'The Gathering is come.'

'It is,' she agreed. 'I sense the imminent convergence of the T'lan Imass, and would rather it occur somewhere beyond the sight of anyone else.'

'A private matter, of course. None the less, Silverfox, would you resent company? Kruppe is wise — wise enough to keep silent when silence is called for, and yet wiser still to speak when wise words are required. Wisdom, after all, is Kruppe's blood brother.'

She smiled down at him. 'You would witness the Second Gathering?'

'There is no better witness to all things wondrous than Kruppe of Darujhistan, lass. Why, the tales that could flow effortlessly from these rather oily lips, should you ever but prod with curiosity-'

'Forgive me if I refrain from doing so,' she replied. 'At least in the near future.'

'Lest you become distracted, of course. It is clear, is it not, that even Kruppe's mere presence generates wisdom in bounty.'

'Very clear. Very well. We'll have to find you a horse, since I plan to ride.'

'A horse? Horrors! Foul beasts. Nay, I hold to my trusty mule.'

'Tightly.'

'To the limits of my physical abilities, aye.' He turned at a clopping sound behind them. 'Ah, speak of the demon! And look, a moonstruck horse follows like a pup on a leash, and is it any wonder, when one looks upon my handsome, proud beast?'

Silverfox studied the saddled horse trailing the mule with narrowed eyes. 'Tell me, Kruppe, who else will be witness to the Gathering through you?'

'Through Kruppe? Why, naught but Kruppe himself! He swears!'

'Not the mule, surely?'

'Lass, the mule's capacity for sleep — in no matter what the circumstances — is boundless, unaffected and indeed, admirable. I assure you, none shall witness through its eyes!'

'Sleep, is it? No doubt, to dream. Very well, let us be on with it, Kruppe. I trust you're comfortable with a ride through the night?'

'Not in the least, but perseverance is Kruppe's closest cousin …'

'Walk with me.'

Pausing as he emerged from the tent entrance, Whiskeyjack looked left, to see Anomander Rake standing in the gloom. Ah, not Korlat, then. Oh well. 'Of course, Lord.'

The Son of Darkness led him through the tent rows, southward, out to the very edge of the encampment, then beyond. They ascended a ridge and came within sight of Catlin River. Starlight played on its swirling surface two hundred paces away.

Moths fluttered like flecks of snow fleeing the warm wind.

Neither man spoke for a long while.

Finally, Anomander Rake sighed, then asked, 'How fares the leg?'

'It aches,' Whiskeyjack answered truthfully. 'Especially after a full day in the saddle.'

'Brood is an accomplished healer. High Denul. He would not hesitate should you ask.'

'When there's time-'

'There has been plenty of that, as we both know. None the less, I share something of your stubbornness, so I'll not raise the subject again. Have you been contacted by Quick Ben?'

Whiskeyjack nodded. 'He's in Capustan. Or should be by now.'

'I am relieved. The assault on the warrens has made being a mage somewhat perilous. Even Kurald Galain has felt the poison's touch.'

'I know.'

Rake slowly turned to regard him. 'I had not expected to find in her such … renewal. A heart I'd believed closed for ever. To see it flowering so …'

Whiskeyjack shifted uneasily. 'I may have wounded it this evening.'

'Momentarily, perhaps. Your false outlawry is known.'

'Thus the meeting, or so we thought.'

'I pulled the thorn before you and the High Fist arrived.'

The Malazan studied the Tiste Andii in the gloom. 'I wasn't sure. The suspicion could find no root, however.'

'Because, to you, my position makes no sense.'

'Aye.'

Rake shrugged. 'I rarely see necessity as a burden.'

Whiskeyjack thought about that, then nodded. 'You still need us.'

'More than ever, perhaps. And not just your army. We need Quick Ben. We need Humbrall Taur and his White Face clans. We need your link to Silverfox and through her to the T'lan Imass. We need Captain Paran-'

'Ganoes Paran? Why?'

'He is the Master of the Deck of Dragons.'

'It's no secret, then.'

'It never was.'

'Do you know,' Whiskeyjack asked, 'what that role signifies? A genuine question, because, frankly, I don't and wish I damn well did.'

'The Crippled God has fashioned a new House and now seeks to join it to the Deck of Dragons. A sanction is required. A blessing, if you will. Or, conversely, a denial.'

Whiskeyjack grunted. 'What of the House of Shadow, then? Was there a Master of the Deck around who sanctioned its joining?'

'There was no need. The House of Shadow has always existed, more or less. Shadowthrone and Cotillion simply reawakened it.'

'And now, you want Paran — the Master of the Deck — to deny the Crippled God's House.'

'I believe he must. To grant the Fallen One legitimacy is to grant him power. We see what he is capable of in his present weakened state. The House of Chains is the foundation he will use to rebuild himself.'

'Yet, you and the gods took him down once before. The Chaining.'

'A costly endeavour, Whiskeyjack. One in which the god Fener was vital. Tell me, among your soldiers, the Tusked One is a popular god — have you priests as well?'

'No. Fener's popular enough, being the Lord of Battle. Malazans are somewhat … relaxed when it comes to the pantheon. We tend to discourage organized cults within the military.'

'Fener is lost to us,' Rake said.

'Lost? What do you mean?'

'Torn from his realm, now striding the mortal earth.'

'How?'

There was a grim smile in Rake's tone as he explained. 'By a Malazan. A once-priest of Fener, a victim of the Reve.'

'Which means?'

'His hands were ritually severed. The power of the Reve then sends those hands to the hooves of Fener himself. The ritual must be the expression of purest justice, but this one wasn't. Rather, there was a perceived need to reduce the influence of Fener, and in particular that High Priest, by agents of the Empire — likely the Claw. You mentioned the discouraging of cults within the army. Perhaps that was a factor — my knowledge is not complete, alas. Certainly the High Priest's penchant for historical analysis was another — he had completed an investigation that concluded that the Empress Laseen in fact failed in her assassination of the Emperor and Dancer. Granted, she got the throne she so badly wanted, but neither Kellanved nor Dancer actually died. Instead, they ascended.'

'I can see why Surly's back would crawl at that revelation.'

'Surly?'