Steven Erikson - Memories of Ice

The Jaghut flinched, eyes widening.

'Didn't you understand that? The Matron could only take one. You.'

'No-'

'Your sister is still there. Her soul seals that wound. It's the way warrens heal themselves, to keep from bleeding into each other. The first time, it was the Matron — the K'Chain Che'Malle. Time's come, Seer, to send her back. Hood knows what that Finnest will do — once you release it, once you send it into that rent-'

The Jaghut managed a ghastly smile. 'To free my sister? To what? You fool. You blind, stupid fool. Ask the Bonecaster — how long would we survive in this world? The T'lan Imass will hunt us in earnest now. I free my sister, to what? A short life, filled with flight — I remember, mortal. I remember! Running. Never enough sleep. Mother, carrying us, slipping in the mud-' He shifted his head a fraction, 'And oh how I remember you, Bonecaster! You sent us into that wound — you-'

'I was mistaken,' the woman said. 'I thought — I believed — it was a portal into Omtose Phellack.'

'Liar! You may be flesh and blood, but in your hatred for the Jaghut you are no different from your undead kin. No, you'd discovered a more horrible fate for us.'

'No. I believed I was saving you.'

'And you never knew the truth? You never realized?'

Paran watched the woman's expression close, her eyes flattening. 'I saw no way of undoing what I had done.'

'Coward!' the Jaghut shrieked.

'Enough of all this,' Quick Ben cut in. 'We can fix it now. Return the Matron to the wound, Seer. Retrieve your sister.'

'Why? Why should I? To see us both cut down by the T'lan Imass?'

'He is right,' the woman said. 'Even so, Jaghut, better that than an eternity of pain, such as your sister is now suffering.'

'I need only wait. One day,' the Seer hissed, 'some fool will come upon this site, will probe, will reach into the portal-'

'And will make the exchange? Freeing your sister.'

'Yes! Beyond the sight or knowledge of the T'lan Imass! Beyond-'

'A small child,' Quick Ben said. 'Alone. In a wasteland. I have a better idea.'

The Jaghut bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

The wizard slowly crouched down beside the Seer. 'Omtose Phellack. Your warren is under siege, isn't it? The T'lan Imass long ago breached it. And now, whenever it is unveiled, they know about it. They know where, and they come …'

The Jaghut simply glared.

Quick Ben sighed. 'The thing is, Seer, I have found a place for it. A place that can remain … hidden. Beyond the ability of the T'lan Imass to detect. Omtose Phellack can survive, Seer, in its fullest power. Survive, and heal .'

'Lies.'

The sticksnare on his chest spoke, 'Listen to this wizard, Jaghut. He offers a mercy you do not deserve.'

Paran cleared his throat, said, 'Seer. Were you aware that you have been manipulated? Your power — it wasn't Omtose Phellack, was it?'

'I used,' the Jaghut grated, 'what I could find.'

'The Warren of Chaos, yes. Wherein is trapped a wounded god. The Chained One, a creature of immense power, a creature in pain, who seeks only the destruction of this world, of every warren — including Omtose Phellack. He is indifferent to your desires, Seer, and he has been using you. Worse, the venom of his soul — he's been speaking … through you. Thriving on pain and suffering. through you. Since when were Jaghut interested only in destruction? Not even the Tyrants ruled with such cruelty as you have. Tell me, Seer, do you still feel as twisted inside? Do you still delight in thoughts of delivering pain?'

The Jaghut was silent for a long moment.

Gods, Quick Ben, I hope you're right. I hope the madness of this Seer was not his own. That it's now gone — torn away -

'I feel,' the Jaghut rasped, 'empty. Still, why should I believe you?'

Paran studied the Jaghut, then said, 'Release him, Quick.'

'Now, wait-'

'Let him go. You can't negotiate with a prisoner and expect him to believe a thing you're saying. Seer, the place Quick Ben has in mind — no-one — no-one — will be able to manipulate you there. And perhaps more importantly, you will possess the opportunity to make the Chained One pay for his temerity. And, finally, you will have a sister — still a child — who will need to heal. Seer, she will need you .'

'You hold too much to this Jaghut's still retaining a shred of honour, integrity and the capacity for compassion,' the Bonecaster pronounced. 'With all that he has done — whether by his will or not — he will twist that child, as he himself has been twisted.'

Paran shrugged. 'Fortunate for that child, then, that she and her brother will not be entirely alone.'

The Seer's eyes narrowed. 'Not alone?'

'Free him, Quick Ben.'

The wizard sighed, then spoke to the sticksnare crouching on the Jaghut's chest. 'Let him go, Talamandas.'

'We'll likely regret it,' it replied, then clambered off. The sorcerous web flickered, then vanished.

The Seer scrambled to his feet. Then hesitated, eyes on the Finnest in Quick Ben's hands.

'This other place,' he finally whispered, looking to Paran, 'is it far?'

The Jaghut child, a girl of but a handful of years, wandered from the wounded warren as if lost, her small hands folded together on her lap in a manner she must have learned from her long-dead mother. A small detail, but it granted her a heart-breaking dignity that started tears in Paran's eyes.

'What will she remember?' Kilava whispered.

'Hopefully, nothing,' Quick Ben replied. 'Talamandas and I will, uh, work on that.'

A soft sound from the Seer drew Paran's attention. The Jaghut stood, trembling, unhuman eyes fixed on the approaching child — who had now seen them, yet was clearly seeking someone else, her steps slowing.

'Go to her,' Paran told the Seer.

'She remembers … a brother -'

'So now she finds an uncle.'

Still he hesitated. 'We Jaghut are not … not known for compassion among our blood-tied, our kin-'

Paran grimaced. 'And we humans are? You're not the only one who finds such things a struggle. There's much you have to repair, Pannion, starting with what is within yourself, with what you've done. In that, let the child — your sister — be your guide. Go, damn you — you need each other.'

He staggered forward, then hesitated once more and swung back to meet Paran's eyes. 'Human, what I have done — to your friend, to Toc the Younger — I now regret.' His gaze shifted to Kilava. 'You said you have kin, Bonecaster. A brother.'

She shook her head, as if anticipating his question. 'He is T'lan Imass. Of the Ritual.'

'It seems, then, that, like me, you have a great distance to travel.'

She cocked her head. 'Travel?'

'This path to redemption, Bonecaster. Know that I cannot forgive you. Not yet.'

'Nor I you.'

He nodded. 'We both have learning ahead of us.' With that, he turned once more. Back straightening, he strode to his sister.

She knew her own kind, and had not yet been shorn of her love, her need, for kin. And, before Pannion began lifting his hands towards her, she opened her arms to him.

The vast cavern's rippled, curved walls streamed watery mud. Paran stared up at the nearest diamond-studded giant with its massive arms raised to the ceiling. It seemed to be dissolving before his eyes. The infection in Burn's flesh was all too apparent as inflamed streaks, radiating away from a place almost directly above them.

The giant was not alone — the entire length of the cavern, in each direction for as far as the eye could see, revealed more of the huge, childlike servants. If they were aware of the arrival of newcomers, they showed no sign.

'She sleeps,' Kilava murmured, 'to dream.'