Toll the Hounds Part 50

And as he stared into the flames he saw once more the city dying in a conflagration. Kharkanas beneath the raging sky. Blinding ash like sand in the eyes, smoke like poison in the lungs. Mother Darkness in her fury, denying her children, turning away as they died and died. And died.

Listen to the river. Remember the voices.

Wait, as does the warlord here. Wait, to see what comes.

The smell of the smoke remained long after the fire was done. They rode in on to charred ground and blackened wreckage. Collapsed, crumbled inward, the enormous carriage still reared like a malignant smoking pyre in the centre of stained earth. Detritus was scattered about to mark the disintegration of the community. Yet, although the scene was one of slaughter, there were no bodies. Trails set off in all directions, some broader than others.

Samar Dev studied the scene for a time, then watched as Traveller dismounted to walk over to the edge of the camp, where he began examining some of the tracks leading away. He was an odd man, she decided. Quiet, self-contained, a man used to being alone, yet beneath it all was a current of . . . yes, mayhem. As if it was his own solitude that kept the world safe.

Once, long ago now, she had found herself in the company of another warrior equally familiar with that concept. But there the similarity ended. Karsa Orlong, notwithstanding that first journey into the besieged fortress outside Ugarat, thrived on an audience. Witness Witness, he would say, in full expectation of just that. He wanted his every deed observed, as if each set of eyes existed solely to mark Karsa Orlong, and the minds behind them served, to the exclusion of all else, to recount to all what he had done, what he had said, what he had begun and what he had ended. He makes us his history. Every witness contributes to the narrative the life, the deeds of Toblakai a narrative to which we are, each of us, bound. He makes us his history. Every witness contributes to the narrative the life, the deeds of Toblakai a narrative to which we are, each of us, bound.

Chains and shackles snaked out from the burned carriage. Empty, of course. And yet, despite this, Samar Dev understood that the survivors of this place remained slaves. Chained to Karsa Orlong, their liberator, chained to yet another grim episode in his history. He gives us freedom and enslaves us all. Oh, now there is irony. All the sweeter for that he does not mean to, no, the very opposite each and every time. The d.a.m.ned fool. He gives us freedom and enslaves us all. Oh, now there is irony. All the sweeter for that he does not mean to, no, the very opposite each and every time. The d.a.m.ned fool.

'Many took horses, loaded down with loot,' Traveller said, returning to his mount. 'One trail heads north, the least marked I believe it belongs to your friend.'

My friend.

'He is not far ahead of us now, and still on foot. We should catch up to him today.'

She nodded.

Traveller studied her for a moment. He then swung himself on to his horse and collected the reins. 'Samar Dev, I cannot work out what happened here.'

'He did,' she replied. 'He happened here.'

'He killed no one. From what you have told me, well, I thought to find something else. It is as if he simply walked up to them and said, "It's over".' He frowned across at her. 'How can that be?'

She shook her head.

He grunted, guiding his horse round. 'The scourge of the Skathandi has ended.'

'It has.'

'My fear of your companion has . . . deepened. I am ever more reluctant to find him.'

'But that will not stop you, will it? If he carries the Emperor's Sword . . .'

He did not reply. He didn't need to.

They set out at the canter. Northward.

The wind cut across from the west, sun-warmed and dry. The few clouds scudding past overhead were thin and shredded. Ravens or hawks circled, wheeling specks, and Samar Dev thought of flies buzzing the corpse of the earth.

She spat to clear away the taste of woodsmoke.

A short time later they came upon a small camp. Three men, two pregnant women. The fear in their eyes warred with abject resignation as Samar Dev and Traveller came up and reined in. The men had not sought to flee, proof of the rarest kind of courage the women were too burdened to run, so the men had stayed and if that meant death, then so be it.

Details like these ever humbled Samar Dev.

'You are following the Toblakai,' Traveller said, dismounting. They stared, saying nothing. Traveller half turned and gestured for Samar Dev. Curious, she slipped down.

'Can you see to the health of the women?' he asked her in a low voice.

'All right,' she said, then watched as the Dal Honese warrior led the three men off to one side. Bemused, Samar Dev approached the women. Both, she saw, were far along in their pregnancies, and then she noted that both seemed . . . not quite human. Furtive eyes the hue of tawny gra.s.ses, a kind of animal wariness along with the resignation she had noted earlier, but now she understood it as the fatalism of the victim, the hunted, the prey. Yes, she could imagine seeing such eyes in the antelope with the leopard's jaws closed on its throat. The image left her feeling rattled.

'I am a witch,' she said. 'Shoulder Woman.'

Both remained sitting. They stared in silence.

She edged closer and crouched down opposite them. They bore features both human and animal, as if they represented some alternative version of human beings. Dark-skinned, slope-browed, with broad mouths full-lipped and probably when not taut with anxiety unusually expressive. Both looked well fed, essentially healthy. Both emanated that strange completeness that only pregnant women possessed. When everything outward faced inward. In a less generous moment she might call it smugness smugness but this was not such a moment. Besides, there was in those auras something animal that made it all seem proper, natural, as if this was exclusively and precisely what women were for. but this was not such a moment. Besides, there was in those auras something animal that made it all seem proper, natural, as if this was exclusively and precisely what women were for.

Now that that notion irritated her. notion irritated her.

She straightened and walked over to where Traveller stood with the men. 'They are fine,' she said.

His brows rose at her tone, but he said nothing.

'So,' she asked, 'what secrets have they revealed?'

'The sword he carries was made of flint, or obsidian. Stone.'

'Then he rejected the Crippled G.o.d. No, I'm not surprised. He won't do what's expected. Ever. It's part of his d.a.m.ned religion, I suspect. What now, Traveller?'

He sighed. 'We will catch up with him anyway.' A brief smile. 'With less trepidation now.'

'There's still the risk,' she said, 'of an . . . argument.'

They returned to their horses.

'The Skathandi king was dying,' Traveller explained as they both rode out from the camp. 'He bequeathed his kingdom to your friend. Who then dissolved it, freeing all the slaves, warning off the soldiers. Taking nothing for himself. Nothing at all.'

She grunted.

Traveller was silent for a moment and then he said, 'A man like that . . . well, I am curious. I would like to meet him.'

'Don't expect hugs and kisses,' she said.

'He will not be pleased to see you?'

'I have no idea, although I am bringing him his horse, which should count for something.'

'Does he know how you feel about him?'

She shot him a look, and then snorted. 'He may think he does but the truth is I I don't know how I feel about him, so whatever he's thinking it's bound to be wrong. Now that we're closing in, I'm the one getting more nervous. It's ridiculous, I know.' don't know how I feel about him, so whatever he's thinking it's bound to be wrong. Now that we're closing in, I'm the one getting more nervous. It's ridiculous, I know.'

'It seems your examination of those two women has soured your mood. Why?'

'I don't know what you wanted me to do about them. They were pregnant, not in labour. They looked hale enough, better than I expected in fact. They didn't need me poking and prodding. The babies will be born and they will live or they will die. Same for the mothers. It's just how things are.'

'My apologies, Samar Dev. I should not have so ordered you about. Were I in your place, I too would have been offended by the presumption.'

Was that what had annoyed her? Possibly. Equally likely, her mute acquiescence, the doe-eyed ease with which she had fallen into that subservient role. As when I was with Karsa Orlong. Oh, I think I now step on to the thinnest crust of sand above some bottomless pit. Samar Dev discovers her very own secret weaknesses. Was she foul of mood earlier? See her now. As when I was with Karsa Orlong. Oh, I think I now step on to the thinnest crust of sand above some bottomless pit. Samar Dev discovers her very own secret weaknesses. Was she foul of mood earlier? See her now.

A talent, a sensitivity something something clearly told Traveller to say nothing more. clearly told Traveller to say nothing more.

They rode on, the horses' hoofs thumping the taut drum of the earth. The warm wind slid dry as sand. In a low, broad depression on their left stood six p.r.o.nghorn antelope, watching them pa.s.s. Rust-red slabs of flat rock tilted up through the thin ground along the spines of hills. Long-billed birds of some kind perched on them, their plumage the same mix of hues. 'It is all the same,' she murmured.

'Samar Dev? Did you speak?'

She shrugged. 'The way so many animals are made to match their surroundings. I wonder, if all this gra.s.s suddenly grew blood red, how long before the markings on those antelope s.h.i.+ft into patterns of red? You'd think it could never be the other way round, but you would be wrong. See those flowers the bright colours to attract the right insects. If the right insects don't come to collect the pollen the flower dies. So, brighter is better. Plants and animals, it goes back and forth, the whole thing inseparable and dependent. Despite this, nothing stays the same.'

'True, nothing ever stays the same.'

'Those women back there . . .'

'Gandaru. Kin to the Kindaru and Sinbarl so the men explained.'

'Not true humans.'

'No.'

'Yet true to themselves none the less.'

'I imagine so, Samar Dev.'

'They broke my heart, Traveller. Against us, they don't stand a chance.'

He glanced across at her. 'That is quite a presumption.'

'It is?'

'We are riding towards a Tartheno Toblakai, belonging to a remnant tribe isolated somewhere in northern Genabackis. You tell me that Karsa Orlong intends to deliver destruction to all the "children" of the world to us, in other words. When you speak of this, I see fear in your eyes. A conviction that he will succeed. So now, tell me, against one such as Karsa Orlong and his kind, do we stand a chance?'

'Of course we do, because we can fight back. What can these gentle Gandaru manage? Nothing. They can hide, and when that fails they are killed, or enslaved. Those two women were probably raped. Used. Vessels for human seed.'

'Barring the rape, every animal we hunt for food possesses the same few choices. Hide or flee.'

'Until there is no place left to hide.'

'And when the animals go, so too will we.'

She barked a laugh. 'You might believe so, Traveller. No, we won't go that way. We'll just fill the empty lands with cattle, with sheep and goats. Or break up the ground and plant corn. There is no stopping us.'

'Except, perhaps, for Karsa Orlong.'

And there, then, was the truth of all this. Karsa Orlong p.r.o.nounced a future of destruction, extinction. And she wished him well. And she wished him well. 'There,' Traveller said in a different voice, and he rose in his stirrups. 'He didn't travel too far after all-' From Havok's saddle, Samar Dev could now see him. He had halted and was facing them, a thousand paces distant. Two horses stood near him, and there were humps in the gra.s.s of the knoll, scattered like ant hills or boulders but, she knew, neither of those. 'He was attacked,' she said. 'The idiots should have left well enough alone.' 'There,' Traveller said in a different voice, and he rose in his stirrups. 'He didn't travel too far after all-' From Havok's saddle, Samar Dev could now see him. He had halted and was facing them, a thousand paces distant. Two horses stood near him, and there were humps in the gra.s.s of the knoll, scattered like ant hills or boulders but, she knew, neither of those. 'He was attacked,' she said. 'The idiots should have left well enough alone.'

'I'm sure their ghosts concur,' Traveller said.

They cantered closer.

The Toblakai looked no different from the last time she had seen him there on the sands of the arena in Letheras. As sure, as solid, as undeniable as ever. 'I shall kill him . . . 'I shall kill him . . . once.' once.' And so he did. Defying . . . everything. Oh, he was looking at her now, and at Havok, with the air of a master summoning his favourite hunting dog. And so he did. Defying . . . everything. Oh, he was looking at her now, and at Havok, with the air of a master summoning his favourite hunting dog.

And suddenly she was furious. 'This wasn't obligation!' she snapped, savagely reining in directly in front of him. 'You abandoned us there in that d.a.m.ned foreign city! "Do this when the time is right", and so I did! Where the Hood did you go? And-' Where the Hood did you go? And-'

And then she yelped, as the huge warrior swept her off the saddle with one ma.s.sive arm, and closed her in a suffocating embrace, and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was laughing and even Traveller curse the fool was grinning, although to be sure it was a hard grin, mindful as he clearly was of the half-dozen bodies lying amidst blood and entrails in the gra.s.ses.

'Witch!'

'Set me down!'

'I am amazed,' he bellowed, 'that Havok suffered you all this way!'

'Down!'

So he dropped her. Jarring her knees, sending her down with a thump on her backside, every bone rattled. She glared up at him.

But Karsa Orlong had already turned away and was eyeing Traveller, who remained on his horse. 'You are you her husband then? She must have had one somewhere no other reason for her forever refusing me. Very well, we shall fight for her, you and me-'

'Be quiet, Karsa! He's not my husband and no one's fighting for me. Because I belong to no one but me! Because I belong to no one but me! Do you understand? Will you Do you understand? Will you ever ever understand?' understand?'

'Samar Dev has spoken,' said Traveller. 'We met not long ago, both journeying on this plain. We chose to ride as companions. I am from Dal Hon, on the continent of Quon Tali-'

Karsa grunted. 'Malazan.'

An answering nod. 'I am called Traveller.'

'You hide your name.'

'What I hide merely begins with my name, Karsa Orlong.'

The Toblakai's eyes thinned at that.

'You bear the tattoos,' Traveller went on, 'of an escaped slave of Seven Cities. Or, rather, a recaptured one. Clearly, the chains did not hold you for long.'

Samar Dev had picked herself up and was now brus.h.i.+ng the dust from her clothes. 'Are these Skathandi?' she asked, gesturing at the bodies. 'Karsa?'

The giant turned away from his study of the Malazan. 'Idiots,' he said. 'Seeking vengeance for the dead king as if I killed him.'

'Did you?'

'No.'

'Well,' she said, 'at least now I will have a horse of my own.'

Karsa walked over to Havok and settled a hand on his neck. The beast's nostrils flared and the lips peeled back to reveal the overlong fangs. Karsa laughed. 'Yes, old friend, I smell of death. When was it never thus?' And he laughed again.

'Hood take you, Karsa Orlong what happened?'