House of Chains

The Talons. The master of that revived cult. ‘Are you so certain of that?’

He nodded, then half shrugged. ‘Reasonably. I have come to believe that the rebellion was compromised long ago, perhaps from the very start. That the aim of winning independence for Seven Cities was not quite as central to some as it should have been, and indeed, that those hidden motives are about to be unveiled.’

‘And it is inconceivable to you that such unveilings should occur without your hand in their midst.’

He glanced at her. ‘My dear, you forget, I am an agent of the Malazan Empire. I have certain responsibilities…’

Her eyes lit on an object lying among the cobbles-a momentary recognition, then her gaze quickly shifted away. She studied the murky sky. ‘Has it not occurred to you that your arrival might well jeopardize missions already under way in the rebel camp? The Empress does not know you’re here. In fact, even the Adjunct likely believes we are far away from this place.’

‘I am not uncomfortable with a supporting role-’

Lostara snorted.

‘Well,’ he amended, ‘such a role is not entirely reprehensible. I can live with it.’

Liar. She settled down on one knee to adjust the greaves lashed to her leather-clad shins. ‘We should be able to make that terrace before the sun sets.’

‘Agreed.’

She straightened.

They made their way down the rock-studded slope. The ground was littered with the tiny, shrivelled bodies of countless desert creatures that had been swept up into the Whirlwind, dying within that interminable storm yet remaining suspended within it until, with the wind’s sudden death, falling to earth once more. They had rained down for a full day, husks clattering and crunching on all sides, pattering on her helm and skidding from her shoulders. Rhizan, capemoths and other minuscule creatures, for the most part, although occasionally something larger had thumped to the ground. Lostara was thankful that the downpour had ended.

‘The Whirlwind has not been friendly to Raraku,’ Pearl commented, kicking aside the corpse of an infant bhok’aral.

‘Assuming the desert cares one way or another, which it doesn’t, I doubt it will make much difference in the long run. A land’s lifetime is far vaster than anything with which we are familiar, vaster, by far, than the spans of these hapless creatures. Besides, Raraku is already mostly dead.’

‘Appearances deceive. There are deep spirits in this Holy Desert, lass. Buried in the rock-’

‘And the life upon that rock, like the sands,’ Lostara asserted, ‘means nothing to those spirits. You are a fool to think otherwise, Pearl.’

‘I am a fool to think many things,’ he muttered.

‘Do not expect me to object to that observation.’

‘It never crossed my mind that you might, Lostara Yil. In any case, I would none the less advise that you cultivate a healthy respect for the mysteries of Raraku. It is far too easy to be blindsided in this seemingly empty and lifeless desert.’

‘As we’ve already discovered.’

He frowned, then sighed. ‘I regret that you view… things that way, and can only conclude that you derive a peculiar satisfaction from discord, and when it does not exist-or, rather, has no reason to exist-you seek to invent it.’

‘You think too much, Pearl. It’s your most irritating flaw, and, let us be honest, given the severity and sheer volume of your flaws, that is saying something. Since this seems to be a time for advice, I suggest you stop thinking entirely.’

‘And how might I achieve that? Follow your lead, perhaps?’

‘I think neither too much nor too little. I am perfectly balanced-this is what you find so attractive. As a capemoth is drawn to fire.’

‘So I am in danger of being burned up?’

‘To a blackened, shrivelled crust.’

‘So, you’re pushing me away for my own good. A gesture of compassion, then.’

‘Fires neither push nor pull. They simply exist, compassionless, indifferent to the suicidal urges of flitting bugs. That is another one of your flaws, Pearl. Attributing emotion where none exists.’

‘I could have sworn there was emotion, two nights past-’

‘Oh, fire burns eagerly when there’s fuel-’

‘And in the morning there’s naught but cold ashes.’

‘Now you are beginning to understand. Of course, you will see that as encouragement, and so endeavour to take your understanding further. But that would be a waste of time, so I suggest you abandon the effort. Be content with the glimmer, Pearl.’

‘I see… murkily. Very well, I will accept your list of advisements.’

‘You will? Gullibility is a most unattractive flaw, Pearl.’

She thought he would scream, was impressed by his sudden clamping of control, releasing his breath like steam beneath a cauldron’s lid, until the pressure died away.

They approached the ascent to the last ridge, Lostara at her most contented thus far this day, Pearl likely to be feeling otherwise.

As they reached the crest the Claw spoke again. ‘What was that you picked up on the last ridge, lass?’

Saw that, did you? ‘A shiny rock. Caught my eye. I’ve since discarded it.’

‘Oh? So it no longer hides in that pouch on your belt?’

Snarling, she plucked the leather bag from her belt and flung it to the ground, then drew out her chain-backed gauntlets. ‘See for yourself, then.’

He gave her a startled glance, then bent down to collect the pouch.

As he straightened, Lostara stepped forward.

Her gauntlets cracked hard against Pearl’s temple.

Groaning, he collapsed unconscious.

‘Idiot,’ she muttered, retrieving the pouch.

She donned the gauntlets, then, with a grunt, lifted the man and settled him over one shoulder.

Less than two thousand paces ahead lay the oasis, the air above it thick with dust and the smoke of countless fires. Herds of goats were visible along the fringes, in the shade of trees. The remnants of a surrounding wall curved roughly away in both directions.

Carrying Pearl, Lostara made her way down the slope.

She was nearing the base when she heard horses off to her right. Crouching down and thumping Pearl to the ground beside her, she watched as a dozen desert warriors rode into view, coming from the northwest. Their animals looked half starved, heads hanging low, and she saw, among them, two prisoners.

Despite the dust covering them, and the gloom of approaching dusk, Lostara recognized the remnants of uniforms on the two prisoners. Malazans. Ashok Regiment. Thought they’d been wiped out.

The warriors rode without outriders, and did not pause in their steady canter until they reached the oasis, whereupon they vanished beneath the leather-leaved branches of the trees.

Lostara looked around and decided that her present surroundings were ideal for staying put for the night. A shallow basin in the lee of the slope. By lying flat they would not be visible from anywhere but the ridge itself, and even that was unlikely with night fast falling. She checked on Pearl, frowning at the purple-ringed bump on his temple. But his breathing was steady, the beat of his heart unhurried and even. She laid out his cloak and rolled him onto it, then bound and gagged him.

As gloom gathered in the basin, Lostara settled down to wait.

Some time later a figure emerged from the shadows and stood motionless for a moment before striding silently to halt directly over Pearl.

Lostara heard a muted grunt. ‘You came close to cracking open his skull.’

‘It’s harder than you think,’ she replied.

‘Was it entirely necessary?’

‘I judged it so. If you’ve no faith in that, then why recruit me in the first place?’