Reaper's Gale

‘The Azath participated in healing the fragments? Intentional? By design, by intellect? Or in the manner that blood dries to create a scab? Is the Azath nothing more than some kind of natural immune system, such as our bodies unleash to fight illness?’

‘The breadth of your scholarly knowledge is impressive, Quick Ben.’

‘Never mind that. The warrens were K’rul’s supreme sacrifice-his own flesh, his own blood. But not the Elder Warrens-or so we are to believe. Whose veins were opened to create those, Cotillion?’

‘I wish I knew. No, rather, I don’t. I doubt it is relevant, in any case. Does the Azath simply respond to damage, or is there a guiding intelligence behind its actions? I cannot answer you. I doubt anyone can. Does it even matter?’

‘I don’t know, to be honest. But not knowing makes me nervous.’

‘I have a key for youf’ Cotillion said after a moment. Trull Sengar and Onrack were now walking towards them. ‘For the three of you, in fact. If you want it.’

‘There’s a choice?’

‘Not for them,’ Cotillion said, nodding in the direction of Trull and the T’lan Imass. ‘And they could use your I help.’

‘The same was true of Kalam Mekhar,’ Quick Ben said. ‘Not to mention Adjunct Tavore.’

‘They survived,’ Cotillion replied.

‘You cannot be sure, though-not with Kalam. You can’t be entirely sure, can you?’

‘He was alive when the Deadhouse took him.’

‘So Shadowthrone claims.’

‘He would not lie.’

The wizard barked a bitter laugh.

‘Kalam still lives, Quick Ben. The Deadhouse has him, beyond the reach of time itself. Yet he will heal. The poison will degrade, become inert. Shadowthrone saved the assassin’s life-’

‘Why?’

‘Now that is a harder question to answer,’ Cotillion admitted. ‘Perhaps simply to defy Laseen, and you should not be surprised if that is his only reason. Believe me, for Shadowthrone, it suffices.’ Be glad, Ben Adaephon Debt, that 1 do not tell you his real reason.

Trull Sengar and Onrack drew close, then halted. The Tiste Edur’s new stone-tipped spear was strapped to his back; he was wearing a long cape against the chill, the wool dyed deep burgundy-one of the more useful treasures found in the longhouse. It was held in place by an exquisite silver brooch depicting some sort of stylized hammer. At his side, Onrack the Broken’s skeletal frame was so battered, dented and fractured it was a wonder that the warrior was still in one piece.

The T’lan Imass spoke. ‘This lake, god. The shore opposite…’

‘What of it?’

‘It does not exist.’

Cotillion nodded.

Trull Sengar asked, ‘How can that be? Onrack says it’s not a gate, on the other side. It’s not anything at all.’

Cotillion ran a hand through his hair, then scratched his chin-realizing he needed to shave-and squinted out on the water. ‘The other side is… unresolved.’

‘What does that mean?’ Quick Ben demanded.

‘To fully understand, you will have to go there, wizard. The three of you-that is the path of your journey. And you must leave soon.’

‘Forgive us for being unimpressed,’ the Tiste Edur said drily. ‘The last nightmare you sent us into has made us rather reluctant adventurers. We need a better reason, Cotillion.’

‘I imagine you do.’

‘We’re waiting,’ Quick Ben said, crossing his arms.

‘Alas, I cannot help you. Any explanation I attempt will affect your perception of what you will find, at your journey’s end. And that must not be allowed to happen, because the manner in which you perceive will shape and indeed define the reality that awaits you.’ He sighed again. ‘I know, that’s not very helpful.’

‘Then summon Shadowthrone,’ Trull Sengar said. ‘Maybe he can do better.’

Cotillion shrugged, then nodded.

A dozen heartbeats later a mostly formless shadow rose in ‘ their midst, from which emerged a knobby cane at the end of a skinny, gnarled arm. The god glanced about, then down, to find itself ankle-deep in water. Hissing, Shadowthrone picked up the tattered ends of his cloak then pranced onto dry land.

‘Oh, wasn’t that amusing?’ he sang. ‘Wretches, all of. you. What do you want? I’m busy. Do you understand? Busy.’

Onrack pointed one skeletal arm out towards the lake. ‘Cotillion would send us across this water, on a mission he will not explain, to achieve goals he refuses to define, in a place he cannot describe. We therefore call upon you, formless one, to deliver what he will not.’

Shadowthrone giggled.

Cotillion glanced away, suspecting what was coming.

‘Delighted to, bony one. I respond in this manner. It is as Cotillion believes. The rooster died of grief.’

A curse from Quick Ben as Shadowthrone then swirled into nothingness.

Cotillion turned away. ‘Supplies await you outside the longhouse. When you return down here, a boat will have been readied. Make your goodbyes to Minala and the children as brief as possible. The way ahead is long and arduous, and we are running out of time.’