Steven Erikson - Dust of Dreams

‘With the door barred,’ she said. ‘I won’t have any strangers walking in.’

‘Hep haw! Curseed?’

‘Aye, cross-eyed, but he can’t know it-’

‘Impable, lees in glusion.’

‘Illusion? A glamour? Oh, that’s very good. Get on it, then, thanks.’

Badan Gruk rubbed at his face as Sinter collapsed on to the cot beside him. ‘What in Hood’s name are we doing here?’ he asked.

Her dark eyes flicked to his-the momentary contact sweet as a caress-and then she looked away. ‘You’re the only kind of soldier a body can trust, Badan, did you know that?’

‘What? No, I-’

‘You’re reluctant. You’re not cut out for violence and so you don’t go looking for it. You use your wits first and that silly bonekisser as a last resort. The dangerous ones do it the other way round and that costs lives every time. Every time.’ She paused. ‘Did I hear right? Some drunk marine sergeant crossed this damned empire from tavern to tavern?’

He nodded. ‘And left a trail of local sympathizers, too. But she wasn’t afraid of spilling blood, Sinter, she just picked out the right targets-people nobody liked. Tax collectors, provosts, advocates.’

‘But she’s a drunk?’

‘Aye.’

Shaking her head, Sinter fell back on to the cot. She stared at the ceiling. ‘How come she doesn’t get busted down?’

‘Because she’s one of the Y’Ghatan Stormcrawlers, that’s why. Them that went under.’

‘Oh, right.’ A moment’s consideration, and then: ‘Well, we’re marching soon.’

Badan rubbed at his face again. ‘But nobody knows where, or even why. It’s a mess, Sinter.’ He hesitated, and then asked, ‘You got any bad feelings about it?’

‘Got no feelings at all, Badan. About anything. And no, I don’t know what took me by the throat the night of Fid’s reading, either. In fact, I don’t even remember much of that night, not the ride, nor what followed.’

‘Nothing followed. Mostly, you just passed out. Some Fenn had already stepped in, anyway. Punched a god in the side of the head.’

‘Good.’

‘That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?’

‘Well, like the one-eyed hag says, there’s all kinds of worship in the world, Badan.’

‘I don’t…’ but the look she shot him ground the words down to dust in his mouth. He flinched and glanced away. ‘That thing you said about wits, Sinter, was that a joke, too?’

She sighed, closing her eyes. ‘No, Badan. No. Wake me when Rim gets back, will you?’

Trailed by Lostara Yil, Keneb, Blistig and Quick Ben, the Adjunct Tavore strode down the length of the throne room and halted ten paces from the two thrones.

‘Welcome to you all,’ said King Tehol. ‘Adjunct, my Chancellor here informs me that you have a list of requests, most of which will contribute to a happy burgeoning of the royal coffers. Now, if I was the venal sort I would say let’s get right to that. But I am no such sort and so I would like to broach an entirely different matter, one of immense importance.’

‘Of course, sire,’ said Tavore. ‘We are at your disposal and will assist in any way we can.’

The King beamed.

Lostara wondered at the Queen’s sigh, but not for long.

‘Wonderful! Now, as soon as I recall the specific details of what I wanted to ask, why, I will. In the meantime, my Ceda tells me that you have stirred awake a sorcerous nest of trouble. My Chancellor, alas, assures me that the confusion is exaggerated-which of the two am I to believe? Please, if you can, break asunder this dreadful deadlock.’

Frowning, Tavore turned and said, ‘High Mage, can you address this matter, please?’

Quick Ben moved to stand beside the Adjunct. ‘Sire, both your Chancellor and your Ceda are, essentially, correct.’

Lostara saw Bugg smile, and then scowl from where he stood to the right of Tehol’s throne.

‘How fascinating,’ the King murmured, leaning forward to settle his chin in one hand. ‘Can you elaborate, High Mage?’

‘Probably not, but I will try. The situation, terrifying as it is, is probably temporary. The reading of the Deck of Dragons, which Preda Brys Beddict attended, seems to have illuminated a structural flaw in the… uhm… fabric of reality, a wounding of sorts. It seems, sire, that someone-someone very powerful-attempted to impose a new structure upon the already existing warrens of sorcery.’

Brys Beddict, positioned to the left of the Queen, asked, ‘High Mage, can you explain these “warrens” which seem so central to your notions of magic?’

‘Unlike the sorcery that prevailed on this continent until recently, Preda, magic everywhere else exists in a more formalized state. The power, so raw here, is elsewhere refined, aspected, organized into something like themes, and these themes are what we call warrens. Many are accessible to mortals and gods alike; others are’-and he glanced at Bugg-‘Elder. Some are virtually extinct, or inaccessible due to ignorance or deliberate rituals of sealing. Some, in addition, are claimed and ruled over by elements either native to those warrens, or so fundamentally related to them as to make the distinction meaningless.’

King Tehol lifted a finger. ‘A moment, whilst I blink the glaze from my eyes. Now, let’s mull on what has been said thus far-I’m good at mulling, by the way. If I understand you, High Mage, the realm the Tiste Edur called Kurald Emurlahn represents one of these warrens, yes?’

‘Aye,’ Quick Ben responded, and then hastily added, ‘sire. The Tiste warrens-and there are three that we know of-are all Elder. Two of them, by the way, are no longer ruled by the Tiste. One is virtually sealed. The other has been usurped.’

‘And how do these warrens relate to your Deck of Dragons?’

The High Mage flinched. ‘Not my Deck, sire, I assure you. There is no simple answer to your question-’

‘It’s about time! I was beginning to feel very stupid. Please understand, I have no problem about being stupid. Feeling stupid is entirely another matter.’

‘Ah, yes, sire. Well, the Deck of Dragons probably originated as a means of divination-less awkward than tiles, burnt bones, silt patterns, random knots, knucklebones, puke, faeces-’

‘Understood! Please, there are ladies present, good sir!’

‘Forgive me, sire. In some obvious ways, the High Houses of the Deck relate to certain warrens and as such they present a kind of window looking in on those warrens-conversely, of course, things can in turn look out from the other side, which is what makes a reading so… risky. The Deck is indifferent to barriers-in the right hands it can reveal patterns and relationships hidden to mortal eyes.’

‘Even what you describe,’ said Brys, ‘hardly matches what happened at that reading, High Mage.’

‘Aye, Preda, which brings us back to the wound that is this city. Someone drew a knife and carved a new pattern here. New, and yet ancient beyond belief. There was an attempt at a reawakening, but what awoke was broken.’

‘And do you know who that “someone” might have been?’ King Tehol asked.

‘Icarium Lifestealer, sire. A Champion intended to cross blades with Emperor Rhulad Sengar.’

Tehol leaned back and said, ‘Ceda, do you have anything to add at this moment?’

Bugg started and then winced. ‘The High Mage’s knowledge is most impressive, sire. Uncannily so.’

Queen Janath asked, ‘Can this wound be healed, Ceda? And if not, what is the threat to Letheras should it continue to… bleed?’

The old man made a face that suggested he’d just tasted something unpleasant. ‘Letheras is now like a pool of water with all the silts stirred up. We are blinded, groping, and none of us can draw more than a thin, shallow handful of magic. The effect ripples outward and will soon incapacitate the mages throughout the kingdom.’