Silverfox grinned. 'It's obvious when you consider it, isn't it? Who among the ascendants went after Laseen. with the aim of destroying her? Shadowthrone and Cotillion. Why would any ascendant care one way or another about a mortal woman? Unless they thirsted for vengeance.'
Paran's mind raced back, to a road on the coast of Itko Kan, to a dreadful slaughter, wounds made by huge, bestial jaws — Hounds.
'I've thought about that myself, and have arrived at one possibility. The realm of Death was already occupied, Paran. The King of High House Death is Hood. I believe now that each Azath is home to every gate, a way into every warren. Gain entry to the House, and you may …
Paran slowly nodded, struggling to take it all in. Tremors of pain twisted his stomach — he pushed them away.
'The House of Shadow was once a Hold,' Silverfox went on. 'You can tell — it doesn't share the hierarchical structure of the other Houses. It is bestial, a wilder place, and apart from the Hounds it knew no ruler for a long, long time.'
'What of the Deck's Unaligned?'
She shrugged. 'Failed aspects? The imposition of chance, of random forces? The Azath and the Deck are both impositions of order, but even order needs freedom, lest it solidify and become fragile.'
'And where do you think I fit in? I'm nothing, Silverfox. A stumble-footed mortal.'
'I have thought long and hard on this, Paran. Anomander Rake is Knight of the House of Dark,' she said, 'yet where is the House itself? Before all else there was Dark, the Mother who birthed all. So it must be an ancient place, a Hold, or perhaps something that came before Holds themselves. A focus for the gate into Kurald Galain … undiscovered, hidden, the First Wound, with a soul trapped in its maw, thus sealing it.'
'A soul,' Paran murmured, a chill clambering up his spine, 'or a legion of souls …'
The breath hissed from Silverfox.
'Before Houses there were Holds,' Paran continued with remorseless logic. 'Both fixed, both stationary. Settled. Before settlement … there was
'Paran, something has happened — to the Deck of Dragons. A new card has arrived. Unaligned, yet, I think, dominant. The Deck has never possessed a … master.' She faced him. 'I now believe it has one. You.'
His eyes snapped open; he stared at her in disbelief, then scorn. 'Nonsense, Tatter- Silverfox. Not me. You are wrong. You must be-'
'I am not. My hand was guided in fashioning the card that is you-'
'What card?'
She did not answer, continued as if she had not heard him. 'Was it the Azath that guided me? Or some other unknown force? I do not know.
His brows rose mockingly. 'You set for me a quest? Really, Silverfox. Aimless, purposeless men do not undertake quests. That's for wall-eyed heroes in epic poems. I don't believe in goals — not any more. They're naught but self-delusions. You set for me this task and you shall be gravely disappointed. As shall the Azath.'
'An unseen war has begun, Paran. The warrens themselves are under assault — I can feel the pressure within the Deck of Dragons, though I have yet to rest a hand upon one. An army is being … assembled, perhaps, and you — a soldier — are part of that army.'
Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. 'Perhaps, Ganoes Paran, they are all one war.'
'I'm no Dujek, or Brood — I can't manage all these … campaigns. It's — it's tearing me apart.'
'I know. You cannot hide your pain from me — I see it in your face, and it breaks my heart.'