Kellanved's Reach

Surly shook her head and motioned for him to remove his sword-belt. He eyed the surrounding guards for a time, then gave a reluctant nod and complied. All the other Malazans followed suit, even Dassem.

Palace guards escorted the Malazan contingent out. Tarel eyed the four remaining Napans. ‘Drop your weapons as well,’ he commanded.

Cartheron, Urko and Tocaras did so – Surly was unarmed.

Tarel motioned to his guards, ‘Throw them into separate cells to await their execution.’ He took one step nearer to Surly, and it seemed to Cartheron that this was as close as the man dared get to his sister. ‘And you,’ he said, pointing to her, ‘I know your tricks. You will be under constant observation, and if you escape your followers here will all be killed immediately. Is that clear?’

She crossed her arms, almost sighing. ‘Yes, Tarel.’

*

Dancer found himself on damp ground in the middle of thick jungle at night. Tayschrenn was with him and he released the mage’s arm. ‘Where are we?’ he whispered.

The mage peered round. ‘South Itko Kan, I presume. Jadeen’s territory.’

‘Are they near?’

Tayschrenn motioned to one side. Dancer edged forward, pushing through wet fronds to a clearing where, beneath hanging rain-clouds, Jadeen stood over a prostrate Kellanved. Dancer decided that he probably had no chance of actually stealing up on the woman, and so he chose to walk up openly. He glanced behind to see Tayschrenn following, hands clasped at his back.

As they closed, the witch shot them a glance, then urged them forward with one lazy beckoning gesture of a black-nailed hand.

Kellanved, Dancer saw, lay enmeshed in ropes of writhing night.

‘You followed,’ she observed, and she peered past Dancer to Tayschrenn. ‘You have some skill – and power. Do you too challenge?’

Dancer eyed the Kartoolian sidelong. Tayschrenn remained impassive, droplets of rain now darkening his long straight black hair, which was pulled back and tied by a silver clip. He lifted and dropped his thin shoulders, seemingly indifferent. ‘If he falls I shall be paramount.’

The witch bared her teeth again, in evident approval, and regarded the prostrate Kellanved. ‘There. You hear that? The law of might. Those who are weak fall. So should it be. So it has always been.’ She crooked a finger at him. ‘Should’ve kept your head down for a hundred years or so, little man. Perhaps then you would’ve been a challenge to me. But you chose to reach too high too soon.’

‘A trade then,’ Kellanved gasped, struggling.

The witch snorted her scorn. ‘So now you beg. This has been no fun at all. Trade? What could you possibly trade?’

‘Incomparable power.’

Jadeen peered round and opened her hands as if in wonder. ‘Power? You possess none.’

Kellanved glanced down his side. ‘In my pocket. A key to the greatest power on all the earth.’

Fat rain droplets struck Dancer’s shoulders as he eased his hands behind his back and took hold of the grips of his slimmest throwing daggers. He wasn’t going to just stand by—

Slightly behind, Tayschrenn reached out and gently set a hand on his elbow; he glanced back and the mage edged his head in the faintest of negatives. Dancer clenched his teeth, but relaxed his grip. Very well – for the moment.

Jadeen had been eyeing Kellanved in disgust. ‘Please. No pathetic tricks.’

‘No trick. Here. In my pocket.’

‘Very well.’ She gestured to Tayschrenn. ‘You, mage. Remove the thing and toss it this way.’

Tayschrenn bowed, and approached. The twisting night-black ropes of Rashan parted to allow him access to the pocket. He withdrew what looked like a stone tool of some sort, which he gently tossed to Jadeen’s feet. She urged the mage back again with a wave.

The witch peered down for a time, studying it, then threw her head back, her hair tossing, and barked a harsh scornful laugh. Her reaction reminded Dancer uncomfortably of the Seti shaman’s when he saw the spear-point as well.

‘So,’ she said, ‘you too have found a stone compass to the fields of flint. This is your power, is it?’ She shook her head, amused. ‘An ancient puzzle, yes. But false. No power lies at what so many wrongly call the Graveyard of the Army of Bone.’

Dancer heard Tayschrenn’s breath leaving him in a long hissed exhalation and he glanced to the man to see open amazement upon his features.

‘But it points …’ Kellanved began.

She smirked, smiling still, but it was not a pleasant expression. ‘Yes, it points. Come then. Let me show you what your life is worth. Nothing.’

The witch gestured again and the two disappeared in smears of thickening darkness.

Dancer snatched the mage’s arm again. ‘Follow them!’

Tayschrenn was shaking his head. ‘The Army of Bone. Dancer … is that where you’ve …’ He actually tried to pull away. ‘No one should meddle there. An Elder horror. To disturb them … you do not know the legends …’

Dancer squeezed the arm. ‘There’s nothing there. I’ve seen it. Now go!’

The Kartoolian mage had visibly paled. He swallowed. ‘Well … for now. But you have no idea …’

‘Go!’