The Crippled God

one.’

‘No one at all?’

‘The trust I have … for some people … comes down to how well I know them, and then it’s a matter of my trusting them to do what I think they’re going to do.’

‘That’s a rather cynical take on trust,’ Paran observed.

‘It’s the safest. It doesn’t take much insight to realize that most people are only looking out for themselves. And once you figure out what they want, you can-’

‘Manipulate them?’

The wizard shrugged. ‘Am I that much of a mystery? I have twelve souls in me. Think about that. All those lives, all those desires, regrets, hurts. Whatever you feel about your life, I have that a dozen times over. And some of those souls in me … are old.’

‘Yet, of necessity, you all have to work together, for a common purpose.’

‘If you say so.’

Paran studied the man. Mystery? What mystery? ‘Right. Very well. The worst? Here goes, then. Kurald Galain falls to vengeful Tiste Liosan, and they walk that path right into the heart of Shadow, ousting Shadowthrone, and from there they march onward, to this world, joining with the Forkrul Assail in a tide of slaughter, until not one city is left standing, not one field planted, not one human child born into the world. Do you want the rest?’

‘There’s more?’

‘The Elder Gods, having at last freed the Otataral Dragon, succeed in the annihilation of magic, barring that paid for in blood — unless of course Korabas is killed, but if that happens it will mean that the Eleint, who are now or will soon be loose in this realm, will have killed it — and they will in turn seek domination, not just of this realm, but of all realms, delivering chaos wherever they go. And so, even with us wiped from the earth, terrible powers will contest the claim to our legacy. The gods will be dead, magic a thirst only fools would dare invite, and … well, should I go on?’

Quick Ben licked dry lips. ‘Parts of Burn are dying — on our way here, whenever we touched the soil of this world, I could feel her skin searing, drying and shrivelling into something … lifeless.’

‘The Otataral Dragon, yes.’

‘I probably already knew that,’ Quick Ben muttered. ‘Just trying not to think about it and hoping it would all go away. Hood’s breath! Ganoes Paran — tell me what we can do to prevent all this?’

The High Fist’s brows rose. ‘How unfortunate. That is the question I was going to ask you, Quick Ben.’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘Wasn’t meant to be.’

‘Your sister-’

‘Aye, my sister. You were with her, wizard. She must have explained her plan.’

Quick Ben looked away. ‘She would free the Crippled God.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘How should I know? Was your whole family like her? Nobody saying a damned thing to each other? Dead silence at the dinner table? Is that how you managed to get along, assuming you got along in the first place?’

Paran grimaced. ‘Can’t say we did, much. Got along, I mean.’

‘What might she be holding inside?’

‘I wish I knew.’

Quick Ben’s growing agitation was evident in his waving hands, his sudden pacing, the sharp, wide-eyed looks he threw at Paran. ‘I thought you two had this planned!’

‘Had what planned?’

‘You’re the Master of the Deck of Dragons!’

‘So I am. Why, you want to play?’

For a moment it seemed Quick Ben’s eyes would burst from their sockets. And then, with sudden hope: ‘A reading! Yes — that’s it! I’d take a damned reading right now — why not?’

But Paran was shaking his head. ‘You don’t want that, High Mage. Trust me, you don’t. There are too many rogue players in this game. Icarium. Draconus. The First Sword of the T’lan Imass. Olar Ethil, Silchas Ruin, Tulas Shorn, Kilava — even Gruntle, the Mortal Sword of Treach. And now the Eleint, and how many dragons have come or are coming through the gate? A hundred? A thousand? Oh, and the Elder Gods: Errastas, the past Master of the Tiles, and Kilmandaros and her son …’

Quick Ben was staring as if Paran had lost his mind.

Paran scowled. ‘What now?’

‘They — they’re all here?’

‘I have the Deck of Dragons in my damned skull, remember. I caught the first winds of convergence some time ago. Trust me when I say this will be the biggest the world has ever seen, bigger even than the chaining of the Crippled God. Nobody said it’d be easy, High Mage. The question is, what do you have to offer me?’

Quick Ben snarled. ‘Why, more good news, what did you think?’

‘What do you mean?’

The High Mage threw up his hands. ‘Let’s just add the K’Chain Che’Malle and the Jaghut, and oh, we should probably mention Hood himself — no longer dragging the Throne of Death by one ankle. And who knows how many slavering fanatics of the Wolves of Winter! And what about the Crippled God himself — will he go quietly? Why should he? If I was him, even if you showed me the inviting door at the far end, I’d be slicing throats all the way down the corridor. I’d have damn well earned the right to as much vengeance as I could muster!’

Paran grunted. ‘All right, it’s rather more complicated than I had imagined, then.’

Quick Ben seemed to choke on his reply. After a bout of coughing, and then spitting, he shook his head and, eyes watering, he rubbed at his face again. Then he took a deep, settling breath, and said, ‘We need a secret weapon, Paran.’

‘I have a gut feeling about that-’

‘The one burning a hole in your stomach?’

I hope not. ‘I think we might have two secret weapons, High Mage.’

‘Please, I am begging you, go on.’

‘Quick Ben, tell me, who was the toughest Bridgeburner you ever knew? Think back, and think carefully. Get your ego out of the way. Ignore your favourites and the ones who spent all their time looking mean. Not the callous shits, not the back-stabbers, none of the posers. The toughest, Quick Ben. Day in, day out, good times, bad. Tell me. Who?’

The High Mage squinted, glanced down at the ground at his feet, and then he sighed and nodded, looking up as he said, ‘I didn’t need that list, Ganoes. I knew my answer right from the start. We all knew.’

‘Who?’

‘Fiddler. There’s no tougher man alive.’

Paran looked away. ‘My family … aye, we were something of a mess. But I will tell you this, this one thing I know without any doubt, and it starts with a memory — my sister had an area of ground cleared for her at the country estate, and it was where, beginning when she was barely five years old, she used toys to fight battles from every history book and scroll she could find. And the times when my father entertained High Fists in his horse- selling ventures, he’d make it a kind of challenge to those veteran commanders — take to the field against little sallow-faced Tavore, with all those toy soldiers. Count your attrition honestly, and see what happens. My sister, Quick Ben, from about seven onward, never lost to a single commander. And when their corpses were dragged away, she went deeper into the histories, she started taking the loser’s sides, and then won those, too.’

‘Tavore, then.’

‘Think of all the great military leaders — Dassem, Coltaine, K’azz, Dujek, Greymane — for what it is worth, I would pit my sister against any of them. Gods below, against all of them.’ He continued staring into the southwest. ‘There you have it, High Mage. Fiddler and my sister. Our two weapons.’ When he looked back he saw Quick Ben studying him.

The High Mage said, ‘The ascended Bridgeburners hold the gates of death.’

‘I know.’