Memories of Ice

The sunset blazed behind her. The two Seguleh, Mok and Thurule, stood guard over her, facing outward. 'Her.'

'Of Lady Envy, I know little more than what I have already said.'

'She was a … companion of Anomander Rake's?'

Tool resumed removing thin, translucent flakes of obsidian from what was quickly assuming the shape of a lanceolate arrowhead. 'At first, there were three others, who wandered together, for a time. Anomander Rake, Caladan Brood, and a sorceress who eventually ascended to become the Queen of Dreams. Following that event, dramas ensued — or so it is told. The Son of Darkness was joined by Lady Envy, and the Soletaken known as Osric. Another three who wandered together. Caladan Brood chose a solitary path at the time, and was not seen on this world for score centuries. When he finally returned — perhaps a thousand years ago — he carried the hammer he still carries: a weapon of the Sleeping Goddess.'

'And Rake, Envy and this Osric — what were they up to?'

The T'lan Imass shrugged. 'Of that, only they could tell you. There was a falling out. Osric is gone — where, no-one knows. Anomander Rake and Lady Envy remained companions. It is said they parted — argumentatively — in the days before the ascendants gathered to chain the Fallen One. Rake joined in that effort. The lady did not. Of her, this is the sum of my knowledge, soldier.'

'She's a mage.'

'The answer to that is before you.'

'The hot bathwater appearing from nowhere, you mean.'

Tool set the finished arrowhead down and reached for another blank. 'I meant the Seguleh, Toc the Younger.'

The scout grunted. 'Ensorcelled — forced to serve her — Hood's breath, she's made them slaves!'

The T'lan Imass paused to regard him. 'This bothers you? Are there not slaves in the Malazan Empire?'

'Aye. Debtors, petty criminals, spoils of war. But, Tool, these are Seguleh! The most feared warriors on this continent. Especially the way they attack without the slightest warning, for reasons only they know-'

'Their communication,' Tool said, 'is mostly non-verbal. They assert dominance with posture, faint gestures, direction of stance and tilt of head.'

Toc blinked. 'They do? Oh. Then why haven't I, in my ignorance, been cut down long ago?'

'Your unease in their presence conveys submission,' the T'lan Imass replied.

'A natural coward, that's me. I take it, then, that you show no … unease.'

'I yield to no-one, Toc the Younger.'

The Malazan was silent, thinking on Tool's words. Then he said, 'That oldest brother — Mok — his mask bears but twin scars. I think I know what that means, and if I'm right. ' He slowly shook his head.

The undead warrior glanced up, shadowed gaze not wavering from the scout's face. 'The young one who challenged me — Senu — was. good. Had I not anticipated him, had I not prevented him from fully drawing his swords, our duel might well have been a long one.'

Toc scowled. 'How could you tell how good he was when he didn't even get his swords clear of their scabbards?'

'He parried my attacks with them none the less.'

Toc's lone eye slowly widened. 'He parried you with half-drawn blades?'

'The first two attacks, yes, but not the third. I need only to study the eldest's movements, the lightness of his steps on the earth — his grace — to sense the full measure of his skill. Senu and Thurule both acknowledge him as their master. Clearly you believe, by virtue of his mask, that he is highly ranked among his own kind.'

'Third, I think. Third highest. There's supposed to be a legendary Seguleh with an unmarked mask. White porcelain. Not that anyone has ever seen him, except the Seguleh themselves, I suppose. They are a warrior caste. Ruled by the champion.' Toc turned to study the two distant warriors, then glanced over a shoulder at Senu, who still knelt over the antelope not ten paces away. 'So what has brought them to the mainland, I wonder?'

'You might ask the youngest, Toc.'

The scout grinned at Tool. 'Meaning you're as curious as I am. Well, I am afraid I can't do your dirty work for you, since I rank below him. He may choose to speak with me, but I cannot initiate. If you want answers, it is up to you to ask the questions.'

Tool set down the antler and blank, then rose to his feet in a muted clack of bones. He strode towards Senu. Toc followed.

'Warrior,' the T'lan Imass said.

The Seguleh paused in his butchering, dipped his head slightly.

'What has driven you to leave your homeland? What has brought you and your brothers to this place?'

Senu's reply was a dialect of Daru, slightly archaic to Toc's ears. 'Master Stoneblade, we are the punitive army of the Seguleh.'

Had anyone other than a Seguleh made such a claim, Toc would have laughed outright. As it was, he clamped his jaw tight.

Tool seemed as taken aback as was the scout, for it was a long moment before he spoke again. 'Punitive. Whom does the Seguleh seek to punish?'

'Invaders to our island. We kill all that come, yet the flow does not cease. The task is left to our Blackmasks — the First Level Initiates in the schooling of weapons — for the enemy comes unarmed and so are not worthy of duelling. But such slaughter disrupts the discipline of training, stains the mind and so damages the rigours of mindfulness. It was decided to travel to the homeland of these invaders, to slay the one who sends his people to our island. I have given you answer, Master Stoneblade.'

'Do you know the name of these people? The name by which they call themselves?'

'Priests of Pannion. They come seeking to convert. We are not interested. They do not listen. And now they warn of sending an army to our island. To show our eagerness for such an event, we sent them many gifts. They chose to be insulted by our invitation to war. We admit we do not understand, and have therefore grown weary of discourse with these Pannions. From now on, only our blades will speak for the Seguleh.'

'Yet Lady Envy has ensnared you with her charms.'

Toc's breath caught.

Senu dipped his head again, said nothing.

'Fortunately,' Tool continued in his dry, uninflected tone, 'we are now travelling towards the Pannion Domin.'

'The decision pleased us,' Senu grated.

'How many years since your birth, Senu?' the T'lan Imass asked.

'Fourteen, Master Stoneblade. I am Eleventh Level Initiate.'

Square-cut pieces of meat on skewers dripped sizzling fat into the flames. Lady Envy appeared from the gloom with her entourage in tow. She was dressed in a thick, midnight blue robe that hung down to brush the dew- laden grasses. Her hair was tied back into a single braid.

'A delicious aroma — I am famished!'

Toc caught Thurule's casual turn, gloved hands lifting. The unsheathing of his two swords was faster than the scout's eye could track, as was the whirling attack. Sparks flashed as bright steel struck flint. Tool was driven back a half-dozen paces as blow after blow rained down on his own blurred weapon. The two warriors vanished into the darkness beyond the hearth's lurid glow.

Wolf and dog barked, plunging after them.

'This is infuriating!' Lady Envy snapped.

Sparks exploded ten paces away, insufficient light for Toc to discern anything more than the vague twisting of arms and shoulders. He shot a glance at Mok and Senu. The latter still crouched at the hearth, studiously tending to the supper. The twin-scarred eldest stood motionless, watching the duel — though it seemed unlikely he could see any better than Toc could. Maybe he doesn't need to …

More sparks rained through the night.

Lady Envy stifled a giggle, one hand to her mouth.

'I take it you can see in the dark, Lady,' Toc murmured.

'Oh yes. This is an extraordinary duel — I have never… no, it's more complicated. An old memory, dredged free when you first identified these as Seguleh. Anomander Rake once crossed blades with a score of Seguleh, one