The Malazan Empire, page 193
Hood’s breath, I recognize those scars – a cheek-guarded, bridged helm makes those marks … when someone swings a mace flush against it, that is.
Frowning, Lady Envy hesitated, then turned to the priest. ‘I believe you said the High Priest awaits us?’
The gaunt man smiled. ‘And he does, mistress.’ He bowed towards the warrior. ‘This is Seerdomin Kahlt, the master of this temple. Seerdomin are the Gifted among the Pannion Seer’s children. Warriors without parallel, yet learned as well. Now, to complete the introductions, will you grant me the honour of your names?’
‘I am Lady Islah’Dracon,’ Lady Envy said, eyes now on the Seerdomin. ‘My companion is named Toc the Younger; my bodyguards Senu, Thurule, and the one presently sleeping is Mok. Do you wish the names of my pets as well?’
You just gave them, didn’t you?
The priest shook his head. ‘That will not be necessary. No respect is accorded mindless animals within the Domin. Provided you have them within control, they will, for the sake of hospitality, be tolerated. Thank you for the introductions, Lady. I shall now take my leave.’ With another bow, he turned and hobbled towards a small side door.
Seerdomin Kahlt took a step forward, armour clanking. ‘Seat yourselves,’ he said, his voice soft and calm. ‘It is not often that we are privileged with guests.’
Lady Envy raised an eyebrow. ‘Not often?’
Kahlt smiled. ‘Well, you are the first, in fact. The Pannion Domin is an insular land. Few visit, and rarely more than once. There are some, of course, who receive the wisdom and so take the faith, and these are welcomed as brothers and sisters. Great are the rewards when the faith is embraced.’ His eyes glittered. ‘It is my fervent hope that such gifting will come to you.’
Toc and Lady Envy settled onto the cushions. Baaljagg and Garath remained with the Seguleh, who stood just within the entrance.
Seerdomin Kahlt sat down opposite his guests. ‘One of your servants is ill?’ he asked. ‘Shall I send for a healer, Lady?’
‘Not necessary. Mok will recover in time. I am curious, Seerdomin. Why build a temple in such a paltry settlement? Particularly if you then execute all the inhabitants?’
‘The inhabitants were rewarded, not executed,’ Kahlt said, face darkening. ‘We only execute criminals.’
‘And the victims were satisfied with the distinction?’
‘Perhaps you might enquire that of them yourselves, before too long, Lady.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘To answer your question. This temple is one of seventy such recent constructions, each commanding a traditional border crossing to and from the Domin. The Pannion Seer’s borders are ones of spirit as well as geography. It falls to his most faithful to accept the responsibility of regulation and protection.’
‘We are your guests, then, so that you may gauge our measure and judge us worthy of entering your empire, or unworthy.’
Kahlt shrugged, reaching for a wedge of some local fruit Toc did not recognize. ‘Please, refresh yourselves. The wine is from Gredfallan, most agreeable. The slices of flesh are bhederin—’
Lady Envy leaned forward and daintily picked up a slice, which she then tossed towards the chamber’s entrance. Garath stepped forward, sniffed the meat, then ate it. She smiled at the high priest. ‘Thank you, we will.’
‘Among our people,’ Kahlt rasped, his hands twitching, ‘what you have just done is a grave insult.’
‘Among mine it’s a matter of pragmatism.’
The Seerdomin bared his teeth in a cold smile. ‘Trust and honour are valued traits in the Pannion Domin, Lady. The contrast with the culture you are from can be made no more obvious.’
‘Indeed. Do you dare risk our corrupting influence?’
‘You have no influence, Lady. Perhaps, however, we have.’
Toc poured himself some wine, wondering at what Envy was up to. They had walked into a hornet’s nest and, smiling, she was plucking one man’s wings.
Kahlt had regained his composure. ‘Is it wise to mask your servants, Lady? The practice seems to run contrary to the needs of your unfortunate paranoia.’
‘Ah, but they are more than simple servants, Seerdomin. They are, in fact, emissaries. Tell me, are you familiar with the Seguleh?’
Kahlt slowly leaned back, studying the silent warriors at the entrance. ‘The island people … who slay all our monks. And have asked us to declare war upon them, and mount an invasion fleet. Arrogance reaps its own reward, as they shall discover. After all, it is one thing to murder unarmed priests … Ten thousand Seerdomin shall enact vengeance upon the Seguleh. Very well,’ he sighed, ‘do these emissaries now come to beg forgiveness?’
‘Oh no,’ Lady Envy said. ‘They come to—’
Toc’s hand snapped out, closed on her arm. Surprised, she faced him. ‘Lady,’ he murmured, then turned to Kahlt. ‘They have been sent to deliver a message to the Pannion Seer. In person.’
‘That’s certainly one way of putting it,’ Envy remarked drily.
Withdrawing his hand, Toc sat back, waiting for his heart to slow its wild hammering.
‘There are provisos to such an audience,’ Kahlt said, eyes still on the Seguleh. ‘Disarmed. Unmasked. Perhaps more – but that is not for me to decide.’ His gaze flicked back to Lady Envy. ‘How can these emissaries be your servants?’
‘A woman’s wiles,’ she replied, flashing him a smile.
He visibly flinched.
Aye, I know what that’s like. Your heart’s just turned to water. Struggling not to prostrate yourself at her feet. Aye, plucked and now pinned and writhing …
Kahlt cleared his throat. ‘I shall now leave you to your repast. Sleeping chambers have been prepared. The monk who met you at the door will be your guide. Day’s end is in a bell’s time. Thank you for this most enlightening conversation.’ He rose, collected his axe from the wall behind him, then exited through the inner door.
Toc grunted as the panel closed. ‘Enlightening? Was that a joke?’
‘Eat up, my love,’ Envy said. ‘Belly filled and content … before we receive our reward.’
Toc choked on a mouthful of wine, coughed helplessly for a time, then looked at her through a bleary eye. ‘Reward?’ he rasped.
‘You and I, yes. I suspect the Seguleh will be given a proper escort or some such thing. Baaljagg and Garath will be butchered, of course. Here, try this, it’s delicious. Before dawn, is my guess, the fire in our veins released to greet the sun’s rise, or some such thing equally pathetic. Then again, we could embrace the faith – do you think we’ll convince him? What kind of fruit is this? Tastes like a soldier’s foot-wrap. I don’t – he’s made up his mind, you see.’
‘And you helped him along, Lady.’
‘Did I?’ She paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached for some bread. ‘I can’t imagine how. True, I was irritated. Have you ever noticed how language can be twisted to mask brutality? Ah, a thought! Look at the Seguleh – masked, yes, yet they speak true and plain, do they not? Is there something in that, do you think? Some hidden significance? Our malleable, fleshy visages are skilled at deceit – a far more subtle mask than what the brothers over there are wearing. More wine? Quite wonderful. Gredfallan? Never heard of it. The Seguleh reveal only their eyes, devoid of framing expression, yet portals to the soul none the less. Remarkable. I wonder who originated the custom, and why.’
‘Lady, please,’ Toc cut in. ‘If they intend to kill us—’
‘Intentions are unimportant, my dear. I taste clover in this honey. Lovely. By the way, the walls around us are mostly hollow, but not unoccupied. Would you be so kind as to deliver these plates of meat to my pups? Thank you, darling, you’re sweet.’
‘All right,’ Toc growled. ‘So now they know that we know. What now?’
‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I am dead tired. I do hope the beds are soft. Are the Pannions interested in such conveniences as plumbing, do you think?’
‘Nobody’s interested in plumbing, Lady Envy, but I’m sure they’ve worked something out.’
‘Repast complete! Now where is our poor little monk?’
A side door opened and the man appeared.
‘Extraordinary coincidence. Thank your master for the repast, cowed one, and please, lead the way.’
The monk bowed, gestured. ‘Follow me, honoured guests. Alas, the beasts must remain outside, in the compound.’
‘Of course.’
The man bowed again.
Lady Envy fluttered the fingers of one thin hand and Baaljagg and Garath loped outside.
‘Well trained, Lady,’ the monk murmured.
‘You have no idea,’ she replied.
The sleeping chambers ran the length of one wall, small square, low-ceilinged rooms, unfurnished except for narrow hide-mattressed cots and a lantern sitting on a shelf on one wall. A room at the far end of the hallway was provided for communal bathing, its floors tiled and sunken at gradating levels in the various pools, the water continually flowing and cool and clean.
Leaving the lady to her ablutions, Toc entered his sleeping chamber and set his pack down with a sigh. His nerves were already in tatters, and listening to Envy’s melodic singing wasn’t helping. He threw himself on the cot. Sleep? Impossible. These bastards are whetting their knives right now, preparing our reward. We’re about to embrace the faith, and its face is a death’s head …
His eye snapped open at a sudden, curdling scream. It was dark – the lanterns had either gone out or been removed. Toc realized he’d fallen asleep after all, and that had the stench of sorcery. The scream sounded again, ending in a dwindling gurgle.
Claws clicked down the hallway outside his room.
Covered in sweat yet shivering, Toc the Younger edged off the bed. He drew the broad-bladed obsidian dagger Tool had made for him, settled the hide-wrapped grip in his right hand, then unsheathed his own iron knife with his left.
Claws. Either there’s Soletaken here … or Baaljagg and Garath are paying a visit. He silently prayed it was the latter.
A crash of masonry made him jump, a wall tumbling into ruin somewhere close. Someone whimpered, then squealed as bones snapped. The sound of a body being dragged just outside his door had Toc crouching low, knives trembling.
Dark. What in Hood’s name am I supposed to do? I can’t see a damned thing!
The door splintered in its frame under the impact of some large body. As the report echoed, the door fell inward … beneath the weight of a naked corpse faintly illuminated by low light coming from the hallway.
A massive head slid into view, eyes dully glowing.
Toc loosed a shuddering sigh. ‘Baaljagg,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve grown since I last saw you.’
The ay, after the briefest pause of mutual recognition, lumbered past the doorway. Toc watched the full length of the beast’s body slide by, then he followed.
The hallway was a shambles. Shattered stone, mangled cots and pieces of flesh everywhere. The walls were painted in splashes of blood and bile. Gods, has this wolf been crashing through arm-length-thick stone walls? How?
Head slung low, claws clacking, Baaljagg padded towards the bathing chamber. Toc moved lightly in the ay’s wake.
Before they arrived a second four-legged shape emerged from a side passage beside the entrance, dark, mottled grey and black, and dwarfing Baaljagg. Coal-lit eyes set in a broad, blood-soaked head slowly fixed on Toc the Younger.
Garath?
The creature’s shoulders were covered in white dust. It edged to one side to allow Baaljagg to pass.
‘Garath,’ Toc murmured as he followed, well within reach of those huge, dripping jaws. ‘What was in those bhederin slices you ate, anyway?’
The gentle pet was gone this night, and in its place Garath had become a slayer of the highest, coldest order. Death capered in the huge hound’s eyes.
The beast allowed Toc to pass, then swung round and slunk off back the way it had come.
A row of candles on the far wall lit the bathing chamber. Baaljagg, nose to the tiles, was skirting the pools. The trickling water was crimson and steaming. Through its murk Toc could see four corpses, all armoured, lying at the bottom of the pools. He could not be sure, but he thought that they had been boiled alive.
The Malazan pitched against a wall, and, in a series of racking heaves, lost the supper the Seerdomin had so kindly provided.
Distant crashing shook the floor beneath his feet. Garath continuing his relentless hunt. Oh, you poor bastards, you invited the wrong guests into your temple …
‘Oh, there you are!’
Still sickened, he twisted round to see Lady Envy, dressed in her spotless white nightclothes, her raven hair tied up and pinned, standing at the doorway. ‘That armour proved fatally heavy, alas,’ she said regretfully, her eyes on the corpses in the pools, then brightened. ‘Oh well! Come along, you two! Senu and Thurule should be finished with the Seerdomin warriors.’
‘There’s more than one?’ Toc asked, bewildered.
‘There were about twenty in all. Kahlt was their captain as well as being this temple’s high priest. Warrior-priests – what an unfortunate combination. Back to your room, now, my dear. You must gather up your belongings. We’re rendezvousing in the compound.’
She set off.
Stumbling in her wake, with Baaljagg trailing, Toc drew a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Has Tool shown up for this?’ he asked.
‘I’ve not seen him. He wasn’t required in any case. We had matters in hand.’
‘With me snoring like a fool!’
‘Baaljagg watched out on your behalf, my love. You were weary, were you not? Ah, here we are. Gather your accoutrements. Garath intends to destroy this temple—’
‘Yes,’ Toc snapped. ‘About Garath—’
‘You don’t wake up well at all, do you, young man? Surely we can discuss all this later?’
‘Fine,’ he growled, entering his room. ‘We will indeed.’
* * *
The inner chambers of the temple thundering into dust, Toc stood in the compound, watching the two Seguleh dismounting the corpses of the villagers and replacing them with the freshly butchered bodies of the Seerdomin warriors. Kahlt, bearing a single thrust wound through the heart, was among them.
‘He fought with fierce determination,’ Lady Envy murmured at Toc’s side. ‘His axe was everywhere, yet it seemed that Thurule barely moved. Unseen parries. Then he languidly reached out, and stabbed the Seerdomin captain straight through the heart. A wondrous display, Toc the Younger.’
‘No doubt,’ he muttered. ‘So tell me, does the Seer know about us, now?’
‘Oh yes, and the destruction of this temple will pain him greatly.’
‘He’ll send a Hood-damned army down on us.’
‘Assuming he can spare one from his northern endeavours, that seems likely. Certainly he will feel the need to respond in some manner, if only to slow our progress.’
‘I might as well turn back here and now,’ Toc said.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You lack confidence?’
‘Lady, I’m no Seguleh. I’m not an ay on the edge of ascendancy. I’m not a T’lan Imass. I’m not a dog that can stare eye-to-level-eye with a Hound of Shadow! And I’m not a witch who can boil men alive with a snap of her fingers!’
‘A witch! Now I am offended!’ She advanced on him, arms crossed, eyes flaring. ‘A witch! And have you ever seen me snap my fingers? By the Abyss, what an inelegant notion!’
He took an involuntary step back. ‘A figure of speech—’
‘Oh, be quiet!’ She took his face in her hands, pulled him inexorably closer. Her full lips parted slightly.
Toc tried to pull away, but his muscles seemed to be dissolving around his bones.
She stopped suddenly, frowned. ‘No, perhaps not. I prefer you … free.’ The frown shifted to a scowl. ‘Most of the time, in any case, though you have tried my patience this morning.’
She released him, studied his face for a moment longer, then smiled and turned away. ‘I need to get changed, I think. Senu! When you’re done, find me my wardrobe!’
Toc slowly shook himself. He was trembling, chilled in the wake of a sure, instinctive knowledge of what that kiss would have done. And poets write of the chains of love. Hah! What they write figuratively she embodies literally. If desire could have a goddess …
A swirl of dust, and Tool rose from the ground beside him. The T’lan Imass turned his head, stared over at Mok’s recumbent form near the outer gate, then said. ‘K’ell Hunters are converging on us.’ It seemed the T’lan Imass was about to say something more, then simply vanished once again.
‘See?’ Lady Envy called out to the Malazan. ‘Now aren’t you glad that I insisted you get some sleep?’
* * *
They came to a crossroads marked by two menhirs, leaning and half buried on a low rise between the two cobbled roads. Arcane hieroglyphs had been carved into their faces, the pictographs weathered and faint.
Lady Envy stood before them, chin propped on one hand as she studied the glyphs. ‘How curious. The root of this language is Imari. Genostelian, I suspect.’
Toc rubbed sweaty dust from his brow. ‘What do they say? Let me guess. “All who come here shall be torn in two, flayed alive, beheaded and badly beaten.”’
She glanced back at him, a brow raised. ‘The one to the right indicates the road to Kel Tor. The one to the left, Bastion. None the less remarkable, for all the mundanity of the messages. Clearly, the Pannion Domin was once a Genostel colony – the Genostelians were distant seafarers, my dear. Alas, their glory waned centuries ago. A measure of their height is evinced by what we see before us, for the Genostel archipelago is halfway across the world from here.’
