spouts of water skyward as each chain retreated upward once more. The billowing, heaving clouds seemed to lean forward over the ocean, closing on their position from all sides now.
Karsa saw the Malazan captain descend from the foredeck, the blue-tinged skin on his face a sickly greyish hue. ‘This is no Mael-blessed squall, Daru, meaning it don’t belong.’ He jerked a trembling finger at Karsa. ‘Tell him he’s running out of time. Tell him to send it away. Once he does that, we can negotiate. Tell him, damn you!’
‘I
‘Let’s see, shall we?’ The captain spun round, gestured. A score of crewmen rushed forward, axes in hand.
Torvald was dragged down and thrown to the deck.
The axes chopped through the heavy ropes binding the platform to the mast. More crew came forward then. A ramp was laid out, angled up to the starboard gunnel. Log rollers were positioned beneath the platform as it was roughly lowered.
‘Wait!’ Torvald cried out. ‘You can’t-’
‘We can,’ the captain growled.
‘At least unchain him!’
‘Not a chance, Torvald.’ The captain grabbed a passing sailor by the arm. ‘Find everything this giant owned- all that stuff confiscated from the slavemaster. It’s all going with him. Hurry, damn you!’
Chains ripped the seas on all sides close enough to lift spray over the ship, each detonation causing hull, masts and rigging to tremble.
Karsa stared up at the tumbling stormclouds as the platform was dragged along the rollers, up the ramp.
‘Those chains will sink it!’ Torvald said.
‘Maybe, maybe not.’
‘What if it lands wrong way up?’
‘Then he drowns, and Mael can have him.’
‘Karsa! Damn you! Cease playing your game of mindlessness! Say something!’
The warrior croaked out two words, but the noise that came from his lips was unintelligible even to him.
‘What did he say?’ the captain demanded.
‘I don’t know!’ Torvald screamed. ‘Karsa, damn you, try again!’
He did, yielding the same guttural noise. He began repeating the same two words, over and over again, as the sailors pushed and pulled the platform up onto the gunnel until it was balanced precariously, half over the deck, half over the sea.
Directly above them, as he uttered his two words once more, Karsa watched the last patch of clear sky vanish, like the closing of a tunnel mouth. A sudden plunge into darkness, and Karsa knew it was too late, even as, in the sudden terror-stricken silence, his words came out clear and audible.
‘Go
From overhead, chains snapped down, massive, plunging, reaching directly for-it seemed-Karsa’s own chest.
A blinding flash, a detonation, the splintering crackle of masts toppling, spars and rigging crashing down. The entire ship was falling away beneath Karsa, beneath the platform itself, which slid wildly down the length of the gunnel before crunching against the foredeck railing, pivoting, then plunging for the waves below.
He stared down at the water’s sickly green, heaving surface.
The entire platform shuddered in its fall as the cargo ship’s hull rolled up and struck its edge.
Karsa caught an upside-down glimpse of the ship-its deck torn open by the impact of the huge chains, its three masts gone, the twisted forms of sailors visible in the wreckage-then he was staring up at the sky, at a virulent, massive wound directly overhead.
A fierce impact, then darkness.
His eyes opened to a faint gloom, the desultory lap of waves, the sodden boards beneath him creaking as the platform rocked to someone else’s movement. Thumps; low, gasping mutters.
The Teblor groaned. The joints of every limb felt torn inside.
‘Karsa?’ Torvald Nom crawled into view.
‘What-what has happened?’
The shackles remained on the Daru’s wrists, the chains connected on the other end to arm-length, roughly broken fragments of the deck. ‘Easy for you, sleeping through all the hard work,’ he grumbled as he moved into a sitting position, pulling his arms around his knees. ‘This sea’s a lot colder than you’d think, and these chains didn’t help. I’ve nearly drowned a dozen times, but you’ll be glad to know we now have three water casks and a bundle of something that might be food-I’ve yet to untie its bindings. Oh, and your sword and armour, both of which float, of course.’
The sky overhead looked unnatural, luminous grey shot through with streaks of darker pewter, and the water smelled of clay and silts. ‘Where are we?’
‘I was hoping you’d know. It’s pretty damned clear to me that you called that storm down on us. That’s the only explanation for what happened-’
‘I called nothing.’
‘Those chains of lightning, Karsa-not one missed its target. Not a single Malazan was left standing. The ship was falling apart-your platform had landed right-side up and was drifting away. I was still working free when Silgar and three of his men climbed out of the hold, dragging their chains with them-the hull was riven through, coming apart all around the bastards. Only one had drowned.’
‘I am surprised they didn’t kill us.’
‘You were out of reach, at least to start with. Me, they threw overboard. A short while later, after I’d made it to this platform, I saw them in the lone surviving dory. They were rounding the sinking wreck, and I knew they were coming for us. Then, somewhere on the other side of the ship, beyond my sight, something must have happened, because they never reappeared. They vanished, dory and all. The ship then went down, though a lot of stuff has been coming back up. So, I’ve been resupplying. Collecting rope and wood, too-everything I could drag over here. Karsa, your platform is slowly sinking. None of the water casks are full, so that’s added some buoyancy, and I’ll be slipping more planks and boards under it, which should help. Even so…’
‘Break my chains, Torvald Nom.’
The Daru nodded, then ran a hand through his dripping, tangled hair. ‘I’ve checked on that, friend. It will take some work.’
‘Is there land about?’
Torvald glanced over at the Teblor. ‘Karsa, this isn’t the Meningalle Ocean. We’re somewhere else. Is there land nearby? None in sight. I overheard Silgar talking about a warren, which is one of those paths a sorcerer uses. He said he thought we’d all entered one. There may be no land here. None at all. Hood knows there’s no wind and we don’t seem to be moving in any direction-the wreckage of the ship is still all around us. In fact, it almost pulled us under with it. Also, this sea is fresh water-no, I wouldn’t want to drink it. It’s full of silt. No fish. No birds. No signs of life anywhere.’
‘I need water. Food.’
Torvald crawled over to the wrapped bundle he had retrieved. ‘Water, we have. Food? No guarantees. Karsa, did you call upon your gods or something?’
‘No.’
‘What started you screaming like that, then?’
‘A dream.’
‘A dream?’
‘Yes. Is there food?’
‘Uh, I’m not sure, it’s mostly padding… around a small wooden box.’
Karsa listened to ripping sounds as Torvald pulled away the padding. ‘There’s a mark branded on it. Looks… Moranth, I think.’ The lid was pried free. ‘More padding, and a dozen clay balls… with wax plugs on them-oh, Beru fend-’ The Daru backed away from the package. ‘Hood’s dripping tongue. I think I know what these are. Never seen
