Reaper's Gale

And Seren knew why. It was enough to brighten this morning, enough to bring a wry smile to her lips.

Clip noted it and sneered, but said nothing.

‘Pack up,’ Silchas Ruin said after a moment. ‘I weary of waiting.’

‘I keep telling you,’ Clip said, spinning the rings once more, ‘it’ll all come in its own time, Silchas Ruin.’

Seren turned to face the rearing peaks to the north. The gold had paled, as if drained of all life, all wonder. Another day of weary travel awaited them. Her mood plunged and she sighed.

Given the choice, this game should have been his own. Not Cotillion’s, not Shadowthrone’s. But enough details had drifted down to Ben Adaephon Delat, heavy and grim as the ash from a forest fire, to make him content, for the moment, to choke on someone else’s problems. Since the Enfilade at Pale, his life had been rather headlong. He felt as if he was plunging down a steep hill, for ever but one step from bone-snapping, blood-spraying disaster.

Used to be he thrived on such feelings. Proof that he was alive.

Yet… too many friends had fallen to the wayside on the journey. Far too many, and he was reluctant to let others take their places-not even this humble Tiste Edur with his too-full heart, his raw wound of grief; nor that damned T’lan Imass who now waded through a turgid sea of memories, as if seeking one-just one-that did not sob with futility. The wrong company indeed for Quick Ben-they were such open invitations to friendship. Not pity-which would have been easier. No, their damned nobility demolished that possibility.

And look where all his friends had gone. Whiskeyjack, Hedge, Trotts, Dujek Onearm, Kalam… well, wasn’t it always the way, that the pain of loss so easily overwhelmed the… the not-yetAost? And that sad list was only the most recent version. All since Pale. What of all the others, from long ago? Us damned survivors don’t have it easy. Not even close.

The thought made him sneer inside. What was this feeling sorry for himself? Pathetic indulgence and nothing else.

Skirting the edge of a submerged ravine, they sloshed through tepid, waist-deep water, their passage swirling up clouds of silts that had rested lightly on some unseen, interminably paved lake-bottom. Tracked now by-some kind of fish, their humped backs appearing every now and then to one side or the other, the dorsal fin ribbed, the bulge of water hinting at sizes a little too large for restful contemplation.

Least pleasant of all, Trull Sengar’s comment only moments past that these fish were probably the same kind that had once tried to eat him.

And Onrack the Broken had replied, ‘Yes, they are the same as the ones we fought on the floodwall, although of course they were then in their land-dwelling stage of life.’

‘So why are they here?’ Trull then asked.

‘Hungry,’ Onrack answered.

Enough, right then and there, to stir Quick Ben from his morose taciturnity. ‘Listen to you two! We’re about to be attacked by giant wizard-eating fish and you’re reminiscing! Look, are we in real danger or what?’

Onrack’s robust, prognathous face swung to regard him for a moment, then the T’lan Imass said, ‘We were assuming that you were warding us from them, Quick Ben.’

‘Me?’ He looked about, seeking any sign of dry land-but the milky water stretched on and on.

‘Is it time, then, to make use of your gate?’

Quick Ben licked his lips. ‘I think so. I mean, I’ve recovered from the last time, more or less. And I found somewhere to go. It’s just…’

Trull Sengar leaned on his spear. ‘You came out of that magical journey, Quick Ben, wearing the grin of the condemned. If indeed our destination is as fraught as it must be, I can understand your reluctance. Also, having observed you for some time now, it is clear to me that your battle against Icarium has weakened you at some fundamental level-perhaps you fear you will not be able to fashion a gate durable enough to permit the passage of all three of us? If so-’

‘Wait,’ the wizard interjected, silently cursing. ‘All right, I am a little… fragile. Ever since Icarium. You see far too much, Trull Sengar. But I can take us all through. That’s a promise. It’s just…’ He glanced over at Onrack. ‘Well, there may be some… unanticipated, uh, developments.’

Onrack spoke, ‘I am at risk?’

‘I’m not sure. Maybe.’

‘This should not unduly affect your decision,’ the T’lan I mass replied. ‘I am expendable. These fish cannot eat me, after all.’

‘If we leave,’ Quick Ben said, ‘you will be trapped here for ever.’

‘No. I will abandon this form. I will join oblivion in these waters.’

‘Onrack-’ Trull began in clear alarm.

But Quick Ben cut in, ‘You’re coming with us, Onrack. I’m just saying there’s a little uncertainty with what will happen to you. I can’t explain more. It just relates to where we will find ourselves. To the aspect of that realm, I mean.’