Memories of Ice

again.

To that, she simply shrugged and set off to rejoin her meagre squad.

Gruntle returned his attention to the gathering of dignitaries.

Artanthos — Tayschrenn — was making introductions. Ambassador Aragan — a tall, battle-scarred man who seemed to be suffering from a headache — here to speak on behalf of Empress Laseen, regarding the governance of Black Coral. A handful of hangers-on.

Brood replied that the formal negotiations would have to await the arrival of Anomander Rake, who was expected shortly.

Gruntle's gaze returned to Dujek, who had just arrived with his officers. The High Fist's eyes were fixed on Korlat at the far end, and on the three covered bodies lying in the grasses. The rain still falling, the stench of burning heavy in the air, a shroud descending.

Aye, this day ends in ashes and rain.

In ashes and rain.

Running, memory's echo of glory and joy. He rode the sensation, the flight from pain, from prisons of bone, from massive arms damp and scaled, from a place without wind, without light, without warmth.

From chilled meat. Pale, boiled. Black, charred. From numbed, misshapen fingers pushing the morsels into a mouth that, as he chewed, filled with his own blood. From hard, cold stone with its patina of human grease.

Flesh fouled, the stench of smeared excrement-

Running-

An explosion of pain, swallowed in a sudden rush. Blood in veins. Breath drawn ragged — yet deep, deep into healthy lungs.

He opened his lone eye.

Toc looked around. He sat on a broad-backed horse. Grey-clad soldiers surrounded him, studying him from beneath war-worn helms.

I–I am. whole.

Hale.

I-

An armoured woman stepped forward. 'Would you leave your god, now, sir?'

My god? Dead flesh clothing, hard]aghut soul — no, not a god. The Seer. Fear-clutched. Betrayal-scarred.

My god?

Running. Freed. The beast.

The wolf.

Togg.

My namesake.

'He has delivered you, sir, yet would make no demands. We know that your soul has run with the wolf-gods. But you are once more in the mortal realm. The body you now find yourself in was blessed. It is now yours. Still, sir, you must choose. Would you leave your gods?'

Toc studied his own arms, the muscles of his thighs. Long-fingered hands. He reached up, probed his face. A fresh scar, taking the same eye. No matter. He'd grown used to that. A young body — younger than he had been.

He looked down at the woman, then at the ring of soldiers. 'No,' he said.

The soldiers lowered themselves to one knee, heads bowing. The woman smiled. 'Your company welcomes you, Mortal Sword of Togg and Fanderay.'

Mortal Sword.

Then, I shall run once more.

In the Warren of Tellann, Lanas Tog led Silverfox to the edge of a broad valley. Filling it, the gathered clans of the T'lan Imass. Standing, motionless-Yet different.

Unburdened?

Pain and regret filled her. I have failed you all. in so many ways.

Pran Chole strode forward. The undead Bonecaster tilted his head in greeting. 'Summoner.'

Silverfox realized she was trembling. 'Can you forgive me, Pran Chole?'

'Forgive? There is nothing to forgive, Summoner.'

'I'd never intended to deny your wish for very long — only until, until …'

'We understand. You need not weep. Not for us, nor for yourself.'

'I–I will free you now, as I have done the T'lan Ay — I will end your Vow, Pran Chole, to free you … through Hood's Gate, as you wished.'

'No, Summoner.'

She stared, shocked silent.

'We have heard Lanas Tog, the warrior at your side. There are kin, Summoner, who are being destroyed on a continent far to the south. They cannot escape their war. We would travel there. We would save our brothers and sisters.

'Summoner, once this task is completed, we will return to you. Seeking the oblivion that awaits us.'

'Pran Chole …' Her voice broke. 'You would remain in your torment…'

'We must save our kin, Summoner, if we are so able. Within the Vow, our power remains. It will be needed.'

She slowly drew herself up, stilled her grief, her trembling. 'Then I will join you, Pran Chole. We. Nightchill, Tattersail, Bellurdan, and Silverfox.'

The Bonecaster was silent for a long moment, then he said, 'We are honoured, Summoner.'

Silverfox hesitated, then said, 'You are … changed. What has Itkovian done?'

A sea of bone-helmed heads bowed at mention of that name, and seeing that stole the breath from her lungs. By the Abyss, what has that man done?

Pran Chole was long in replying. 'Cast your eyes about you, Summoner. At the life now in this realm. Reach out and sense the power, here in the earth.'

She frowned. 'I do not understand. This realm is now home to the Beast Thrones. There are Rhivi spirits here … two wolf-gods …'

Pran Chole nodded. 'And more. You have, perhaps unwitting, created a realm where the Vow of Tellann unravels. T'lan Ay… now mortal once more — that gesture was easier than you had expected, was it not? Summoner, Itkovian freed our souls and found, in this realm you created, a place. For us.'

'You have been … redeemed!'

'Redeemed? No, Summoner. Only you are capable of that. The T'lan Imass have been awakened. Our memories — they live once more, in the earth beneath our feet. And they are what we will return to, the day you release us. Bonecaster — we expected nothing but oblivion, upon that release. We could not have imagined that an alternative was possible.'

'And now?' she whispered.

Pran Chole cocked his head. 'It surpasses us … what one mortal man so willingly embraced.' He swung about to make his way back down to the ranks, then paused and looked back at her. 'Summoner.'

'Yes.'

'One task awaits us … before we begin the long journey. '

Picker sat on a smoke-stained foundation stone, eyes dulled with exhaustion, and watched the Rhivi move through the rubble, seeking still more bodies. There were Pannion soldiers about, unarmed — seemingly the only citizens left in the city were either dead or gnawed down to little more than bones.

The Bridgeburners who had died within the keep had already left on a wagon — Picker and her meagre squad had retrieved most of them on the way out, even as the structure began to come down around them. A handful of other bodies had been found and recovered through sorcery, by the Tiste Andii, some of whom still lingered in the area, as if awaiting something, or someone. The only two no-one had yet found were Quick Ben and Paran, and Picker suspected it was because they weren't there.