Orb Sceptre Throne

‘No! I will not be shut up by this man’s airs and knowing hints.’

‘Very well,’ Malakai answered, sounding grimly pleased. ‘These poor starving men and women you seem to feel such sympathy for. These scrapings of the would-be treasure-hunters who came scrambling for easy riches. They can’t buy food and water from any Confederation boats. They’ve nothing left to sell. They didn’t even have the weapons left to stab our two friends. Now, there’s only one thing left down here to eat — which is why they attacked us in the first place, and why they didn’t pursue us afterwards. We killed or badly wounded a number of them, and — for the time being at least — they have enough to eat.’

Orchid’s breath caught in the dark. ‘No,’ she said, her voice strangled. ‘I don’t believe you.’

Malakai didn’t answer; he didn’t need to.

Antsy remembered those snarling rat-like faces, the bared teeth, the frenzied glistening eyes, and thought he’d vomit right then. Instead, he took a bracing deep breath of the sea-tinged air. ‘So this is not the way?’ he asked, dizzy.

‘The way?’ Malakai answered. ‘It’s a way — at least that. And that’s what I want. We’ll reconnoitre after a rest.’

Antsy grunted his agreement and he and Corien continued shambling up the hall.

They took turns keeping watch, or in Antsy’s case listening very hard indeed. And the titanic fragment of Moon’s Spawn spoke to him. A saboteur, he understood the deep groans that came shuddering up through the stone beneath his thighs and hands. The sharp distant poppings of snaps and cracks. He’d spent a lot of time underground. It reminded him of something … something from his youth. But for the life of him he couldn’t quite place it just then.

Even Malakai stayed with them to lie down and to stand a watch. It seemed he wasn’t the sort to pretend he needed less sleep than anyone else.

In the ‘morning’, when Malakai woke everyone, Orchid came to Antsy and set a hand on his arm to crouch down next to him. ‘Corien’s getting worse,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve done everything I can, but that weapon, whatever it was, must’ve been filthy.’

‘How bad-’

‘I can still walk,’ Corien interrupted loudly. ‘The quiet and dark, you know. Sharpens the hearing.’

‘You’ll have to walk on your own,’ Malakai said flatly.

‘Your concern is a soothing balm,’ the youth replied.

Antsy smiled in the dark: he would’ve just told Malakai to go fuck himself.

‘Red, you lead then,’ Malakai said, ignoring the sarcasm. ‘Corien … walk with Orchid.’

‘And you?’ Orchid demanded. ‘Wandering off gods know where? You should stay with us in case there’s trouble.’

‘If there’s trouble I’ll be more use as a hidden asset.’

Orchid just snorted at that. Antsy imagined her throwing up her hands in the dark.

As they readied, Antsy asked Orchid over and held out his pannier. ‘You’re sure?’ she said, surprised.

‘Yeah — no use in a fight. An’ I’ll need both hands. Corien? The use of your sword perhaps?’

‘Yes, Red.’ There came the unmistakable sound of polished iron brushing wood as the blade cleared the mouth of the sheath. ‘Orchid?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Fumblings as Corien handed Orchid the weapon. ‘Ach!’

‘What?’ from both Antsy and Corien.

‘Cut my hand on the edge.’

‘Don’t hold it by the blade!’ Corien exclaimed. ‘Both edges are razor sharp.’

‘So I see,’ she answered, scathing. ‘Here.’

The grip was pressed to Antsy, who took it and readied his own sword in his left hand. ‘Okay. Which way?’

‘To the right.’

Antsy edged to the right. He held the blades before him, off slightly to each side. Occasionally a tip grated against a wall and he would adjust his direction. Behind, Corien grunted his effort. His boots slid heavily over the smooth stone floor and every breath was tight with pain. Antsy knew Orchid was doing her best to help him along.

After a time turning corners and crossing large chambers — meeting places, or assemblies, Orchid thought them — she sent them climbing up against the Spawn’s slant to what she said was a large building front across a broad open court. ‘Do you even know where you’re going?’ Antsy finally complained.

‘Malakai is there, waiting,’ she said; then, rather impatiently, ‘I’ve been keeping us to the main ways, you know!’

Antsy now said aloud what had been bothering him for some time: ‘Then where is everyone? The place is deserted! Where’re these Malazans? Where’s anyone?’

‘How in the name of-’ She stopped herself. ‘How should I know?’

Antsy just grumbled. Again it seemed the constant straining to see in the utter dark was giving him hallucinations. Lights blossomed before his eyes. Shapes of deepest blue seemed to waver in his vision like ghosts. He silently fumed against it all. What a fool I was for throwing myself into this. A bad start before a worse end! I’m gonna die in the dark like a blasted worm.

‘You made it,’ Malakai said blandly from the dark. Antsy pulled up sharply. The observation was neither a compliment nor a complaint. ‘This looks to be some sort of large complex. We should take a look.’

‘I’m not so sure we should go in there,’ Orchid said, sounding worried.

‘Not for you to say. Corien, perhaps you can sit down inside, in any case.’

The lad managed a tight, ‘Certainly. That would be … most welcome.’

‘We are agreed then.’

‘Which way?’ Antsy rasped, his throat dry — already they were getting low on water.

‘There are stairs up,’ Orchid said.

He slid his foot ahead until he bumped up against the first, then he carefully felt his way up until Orchid told him he was on the last. ‘This is a very wide doorway, tall too,’ she murmured. ‘Open double doors. Inside is a kind of arcade with many side openings and corridors.’

Shit. This could take for ever. ‘Look, Malakai,’ he grumbled, ‘it would help if we knew what we were looking for … Malakai …?’

‘He’s gone.’

Osserc-damned useless whore’s son! That’s fucking well it! He pulled off his rolled blanket and began rummaging through it.

‘What are you doing?’ Orchid asked.

‘I’m getting the lantern.’

‘Malakai said-’

‘Malakai can dick himself with his own-’ Antsy bit off his words, cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, lass. Malakai isn’t here, is he?’

He set the lantern on the stone floor, pulled out his set of flints and tinder and began striking. The sparks startled him at first, so huge and bright were they. Light deprivation — seen it before in the mines. Have to shield the lantern. In moments he had the tinder glowing: that alone seemed light enough. He took up a pinch of the lint and shavings and held them to the wick and blew. Once the wick caught he blew again, steadily, pinched out the tinder and shoved it away back into its box, which he snapped shut.

The lantern’s flame blossomed to life and he had to turn his face away, so harsh was the golden light. Blinking, squinting against the pain the light struck in his eyes, he could eventually see and what he saw took his breath away.

Everything was black, yes, but not plain or grim. The walls, the columns of the carved stone arcades, all writhed with intricate carving. Stone vines climbed the walls, delicate stone leaves seemed to wave before his eyes. Bowers of trees, all carved from the glittering finely grained black stone, arched over a second-storey walkway above.

Then he saw the smooth polished floor and he frowned. Dust covered it, but so too did a litter of broken pots and scattered furniture. No looting here. Why?

In the light, Corien shuffled over to a side alcove of carved benches and sat down, hissing his pain. Antsy set