Reaper's Gale

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The god shrugged. ‘The realm was shattered. Dying.’

  ‘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 you,’ 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.’

  ‘here’s a choice?’

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

  The Undying Gratitude heeled hard to starboard, the gale bitter with the cold reek of ice. Pulling and half climbing his way across the aft deck as the crew struggled against the sudden onslaught, First Mate Skorgen Kaban reached the pilot station where Shurq Elalle, held in place by a leather harness, stood with legs planted wide.

  She seemed impervious to the plunging temperature, with not even a hint of colour slapped to her cheeks by the buffeting wind. An uncanny woman indeed. Uncanny, insatiable, unearthly, she was like a sea goddess of old, a glamoured succubus luring them all to their doom – but no, that was not a good thought, not now, not ever. Or at least for as long as he sailed with her.

  ‘Captain! It’s going to be close – them mountains of ice are closin’ on the cut, maybe faster than we are! Where in the Errant’s name did they come from?’

  ‘We’ll make it,’ Shurq Elalle asserted. ‘Come round into the lee of the island – it’s the northwest shore that’s going to get hammered. I’d be amazed if the citadel’s walls on that side survive what’s coming. Look at the Reach, Pretty, it’s nothing but fangs of ice – wherever all this has come from, it’s devouring the entire coast.’

  ‘Damned cold, is what it is,’ Skorgen said in a growl. ‘Maybe we should turn round, Captain. That fleet never came after us anyway – we could head for Lether Mouth—’ ‘And starve before we’re halfway there. No, Pretty, Second Maiden Fort’s an independent state now, and I’m finding that rather appealing. Besides, I’m curious. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Not enough to risk getting crushed by them white jaws, Captain.’

  ‘We’ll make it.’

  The foment that was the crest of the heaving bergs was the colour of old leather, shredded by the churning fragments of ice, tree roots, shattered trunks and huge broken rocks that seemed to defy the pull to the deep – at least for long enough to appear atop the water, like the leading edge of a slide, rolling on across the surface of the tumult before reluctantly vanishing into the depths.

  Tumbling out from this surge like rotted curtains was fog, plucked and torn by the ferocious winds, and Shurq Elalle, facing astern, watched as the maelstrom heaved in their wake. It was gaining, but not fast enough; they were moments from rounding the isle’s rocky headland, which looked to be formidable enough to shunt the ice aside, down its length.

  At least, she hoped so. If not, then Second Maiden’s harbour was doomed. And so is my ship and crew. As for herself, well, if she managed to avoid being crushed or frozen in place, she could probably work her way clear, maybe even clamber aboard for the long ride to the mainland’s coast.

  It won’t come to that. Islands don’t get pushed around. Buried, possibly, but then Fent Reach is where it’s
all piling up – what’s chasing us here is just an outer arm, and before long it’ll be fighting the tide. Errant fend, imagine what happened to the Edur homeland – that entire coast must have been chewed to pieces – or swallowed up entire. So what broke up the dam, that’s what I want to know.

  Groaning, the Undying Gratitude rounded the point, the wind quickly dropping off as the ship settled and began its crawl into the high-walled harbour. A prison island indeed – all the evidence remained: the massive fortifications, the towers with lines of sight and fire arcs facing both to sea and inland. Huge ballistae, mangonels and scorpions mounted on every available space, and in the harbour itself rock-pile islands held miniature forts festooned with signal flags, fast ten-man pursuit galleys moored alongside.

  A dozen ships rode at anchor in the choppy waters. Along the docks, she saw, tiny figures were racing in every direction, like ants on a kicked nest. ‘Pretty, have us drop anchor other side of that odd-looking dromon. Seems like nobody’s going to pay us much attention – hear that roar? That’s the northwest shore getting hit.’

  ‘The whole damned island could go under, Captain.’

  ‘That’s why we’re staying aboard – to see what happens. If we have to run east, I want us ready to do so.’

  ‘Look, there’s a harbour scow comin’ our way.’

  Damn. ‘Typical. World’s falling in but that don’t stop the fee-takers. All right, prepare to receive them.’

  The anchor had rattled down by the time the scow fought its way alongside. Two officious-looking women climbed aboard, one tall, the other short. The latter spoke first. ‘Who’s the captain here and where d’you hail from?’

  ‘I am Captain Shurq Elalle. We’ve come up from Letheras. Twenty months at sea with a hold full of goods.’

  The tall woman, thin, pale, with stringy blonde hair, smiled. ‘Very accommodating of you, dear. Now, if you’ll be so kind, Brevity here will head down into the hold to inspect the cargo.’

  The short dark-haired woman, Brevity, then said, ‘And Pithy here will collect the anchoring fee.’

  ‘Fifteen docks a day.’

  ‘That’s a little steep!’

  ‘Well,’ Pithy said with a lopsided shrug, ‘it’s looking like the harbour’s days are numbered. We’d best get what we can.’

  Brevity was frowning at Shurq’s first mate. ‘You wouldn’t be Skorgen Kaban the Pretty, would you?’

  ‘Aye, that’s me.’

  ‘I happen to have your lost eye, Skorgen. In a jar.’

  The man scowled across at Shurq Elalle, then said, ‘You and about fifty other people.’

  ‘What? But I paid good money for that! How many people lose an eye sneezing? By the Errant, you’re famous!’

  ‘Sneeze is it? That’s what you heard? And you believed it? Spirits of the deep, lass, and you paid the crook how much?’

  Shurq said to Pithy, ‘You and your friend here are welcome to inspect the cargo – but if we’re not offloading that’s as far as it goes, and whether we offload or not depends on the kinds of prices your buyers are prepared to offer.’

  ‘I’ll prove it to you,’ Brevity said, advancing on Skorgen Kaban. ‘It’s a match all right – I can tell from here.’

  ‘Can’t be a match,’ the first mate replied. ‘The eye I lost was a different colour from this one.’

  ‘You had different-coloured eyes?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘That’s a curse among sailors.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why it ain’t there no more.’ Skorgen nodded towards the nearby dromon. ‘Where’s that hailing from? I never seen lines like those before – looks like it’s seen a scrap or two, asides.’

  Brevity shrugged. ‘Foreigners. We get a few—’

  ‘No more of that,’ Pithy cut in. ‘Check the cargo, dearie. Time’s a-wasting.’

  Shurq Elalle turned and examined the foreign ship with more intensity after that peculiar exchange. The dromon looked damned weather-beaten, she decided, but her first mate’s lone eye had been sharp – the ship had been in a battle, one involving sorcery. Black, charred streaks latticed the hull like a painted web. A whole lot of sorcery. That ship should be kindling.

  ‘Listen,’ Pithy said, facing inland. ‘They beat it back, like they said they would.’

  The cataclysm in the making seemed to be dying a rapid death, there on the other side of the island where clouds of ice crystals billowed skyward. Shurq Elalle twisted round to look out to the sea to the south, past the promontory. Ice, looking like a massive frozen lake, was piling up in the wake of the violent vanguard that had come so close to wrecking the Undying Gratitude. But its energy was fast dissipating. A gust of warm wind backed across the deck.

  Skorgen Kaban grunted. ‘And how many sacrifices did they fling off the cliff to earn this appeasement?’ He laughed. ‘Then again, you probably got no shortage of prisoners!’

  ‘There are no prisoners on this island,’ Pithy said, assuming a lofty expression as she crossed her arms. ‘In any case, you ignorant oaf, blood sacrifices wouldn’t have helped – it’s just ice, after all. The vast sheets up north went and broke to pieces – why, just a week past and we was sweating uncommon here, and that’s not something we ever get on Second Maiden. I should know, I was born here.’

  ‘Born to prisoners?’

  ‘You didn’t hear me, Skorgen Kaban? No prisoners on this island—’

  ‘Not since you ousted your jailers, you mean.’

  ‘Enough of that,’ Shurq Elalle said, seeing the woman’s umbrage ratchet up a few more notches on the old hoist pole – and it was plenty high enough already. ‘Second Maiden is now independent, and for that I have boundless admiration. Tell me, how many Edur ships assailed your island in the invasion?’

  Pithy snorted. ‘They took one look at the fortifications, and one sniff at the mages we’d let loose on the walls, and went right round us.’

  The captain’s brows rose a fraction. ‘I had heard there was a fight.’

  ‘There was, when our glorious liberation was declared. Following the terrible accidents befalling the warden and her cronies.’

  ‘Accidents, hah! That’s a good one.’

  Shurq Elalle glared across at her first mate, but like most men he was impervious to such non-verbal warnings.

  ‘I will take that fifteen docks now,’ Pithy said, her tone cold. ‘Plus the five docks disembarking fee, assuming you intend to come ashore to take on supplies or sell your cargo, or both.’

  ‘You ain’t never mentioned five—’

  ‘Pretty,’ Shurq Elalle interrupted, ‘head below and check on Brevity – she may have questions regarding our goods.’

  ‘Aye, Captain.’ With a final glower at Pithy he stumped off for the hatch.

  Pithy squinted at Shurq Elalle for a moment, then scanned the various sailors in sight. ‘You’re pirates.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd. We’re independent traders. You have no prisoners on your island, I have no pirates on my ship.’

  ‘What are you suggesting by that statement?’

  ‘Clearly, if I had been suggesting anything, it was lost on you. I take it you are not the harbour master, just a tolltaker.’ She turned as first Skorgen then Brevity emerged onto the deck. The short woman’s eyes were bright.

  ‘Pithy, they got stuff!’

  ‘Now there’s a succinct report,’ Shurq Elalle said. ‘Brevity, be sure to inform the harbour master that we wish a berth at one of the stone piers, to better effect unloading our cargo. A messenger out to potential buyers might also prove . . . rewarding.’ She glanced at Pithy, then away, as she added, ‘As for mooring and landing fees, I will settle up with the harbour master directly, once I have negotiated the master’s commission.’

  ‘You think you’re smart,’ Pithy snapped. ‘I should have brought a squad with me – how would you have liked that, Captain? Poking in here and there, giving things a real look. How would you like that?’

  ‘Brevity, who rules S
econd Maiden?’ Shurq Elalle asked.

  ‘Shake Brullyg, Captain. He’s Grand Master of the Putative Assembly.’

  ‘The Putative Assembly? Are you sure you have the right word there, lass? Putative?’

  ‘That’s what I said. That’s right, isn’t it, Pithy?’

  ‘The captain thinks she’s smart, but she’s not so smart, is she? Wait until she meets Shake Brullyg, then won’t she be surprised—’

  ‘Not really,’ Shurq said. ‘I happen to know Shake Brullyg. I even know the crime for which he was sent away. The only surprise is that he’s still alive.’

  ‘Nobody kills Shake Brullyg easily,’ Pithy said.

  One of the crew burst into a laugh that he quickly converted into a cough.

  ‘We’ll await the harbour master’s response,’ Shurq Elalle said.

  Pithy and Brevity returned to their scow, the former taking the oars.

  ‘Strange women,’ Skorgen Kaban muttered as they watched the wallowing craft pull away.

  ‘An island full of inbred prisoners,’ Shurq replied in a murmur. ‘Are you at all surprised, Pretty? And if that’s not enough, a full-blooded Shake – who just happens to be completely mad – is ruling the roost. I tell you this, our stay should be interesting.’

  ‘I hate interesting.’

  ‘And probably profitable.’

  ‘Oh, good. I like profitable. I can swallow interesting so long as it’s profitable.’

  ‘Get the hands ready to ship the anchor. I doubt we’ll have to wait overlong for the harbour master’s signal flag.’

  ‘Aye, Captain.’

  Udinaas sat watching her clean and oil her sword. An Edur sword, set into her hands by a Tiste Edur warrior. All she needed now was a house so she could bury the damned thing. Oh yes, and the future husband’s fateful return. Now, maybe nothing was meant by it; just a helpful gesture by one of Fear’s brothers – the only Sengar brother Udinaas actually respected. Maybe, but maybe not.

  The interminable chanting droned through the stone walls, a sound even grimmer than the blunt grunting of Edur women at mourning. The Onyx Wizards were in consultation. If such an assertion held any truth then the priestly version of their language was incomprehensible and devoid of the rhythm normally found in both song and speech. And if it was nothing but chanting, then the old fools could not even agree on the tempo.