Memories of Ice

The scree of boulders had forced the newcomers to slow, except for Kruppe who was thrown forward then back on his saddle as the mule pitched headlong down the slope. Somehow the beast kept its footing, plummeting past a startled Korlat and a laughing Silverfox, then, reaching the flat, slowing its wild charge and trotting up to where Whiskeyjack stood, its head lifted proudly, ears up and forward-facing.

Kruppe, on the other hand, remained hugging the animal's neck, eyes squeezed shut, face crimson and streaming sweat. 'Terror!' he moaned. 'Battle of wills, Kruppe has met his match in this brainless, delusional beast! Aye, he is defeated! Oh, spare me. '

The mule halted.

'You can climb off, now,' Whiskeyjack said.

Kruppe opened his eyes, looked around, then slowly sat straight. He shakily withdrew a handkerchief. 'Naturally. Having given the creature its head, Kruppe now reacquires the facility of his own.' Pausing a moment to pat his brow and daub his face, he then wormed off the saddle and settled to the ground with a loud sigh. 'Ah, here come Kruppe's lazy dust-eaters. Delighted you could make it, dear ladies! A fine afternoon for a trot, yes?'

Silverfox had stopped laughing, her veiled eyes now on the scattered bones.

Hood take me, that fur cloak becomes her indeed. Mentally shaking himself, Whiskeyjack glanced up to meet Korlat's steady, faintly ironic gaze. But oh, she pales beside this Tiste Andii. Dammit, old man, think not of the nights past. Do not embrace this wonder so tightly you crush the life from it.

'The scouts,' he said to both women, 'have come upon a scene of battle-'

'K'Chain Che'Malle,' Korlat nodded, eyeing the bones. 'K'ell Hunters, fortunately undead rather than enlivened flesh. Likely not as fast as they would have been. Still, to have been torn apart in such fashion-'

'T'lan Ay,' Silverfox said. 'They are why I have come.'

Whiskeyjack studied her. 'What do you mean?'

She shrugged. 'To see for myself, Commander. We are all drawing close. You to your besieged city, and I to the destiny to which I was born. Convergence, the plague of this world. Even so,' she added as she swung down from the saddle and strode among the bones, 'there are gifts. Dearest of such gifts. the T'lan Ay.' She paused, the wind caressing the fox fur on her shoulders, then whispered the name once more. 'T'lan Ay.'

'Kruppe shivers when she so names them, ah … gods bless this grim beauty in its barrenland tableau, from which starry dreams so dimmed with time are as rainbow rivers in the sky!' He paused, blinked at the others. 'Sweet sleep, in which hidden poetry resides, the flow of the disconnected, so smooth as to seem entwined. Yes?'

'I'm not the man,' Whiskeyjack growled, 'to appreciate your abstractions, Kruppe, alas.'

'Of course, blunt soldier, as you say! But wait, does Kruppe see in your eyes a certain. charge? The air veritably crackles with imminence — do you deny your sensitivity to that, Malazan? No, say nothing, the truth resides in your hard gaze and your gauntleted hand where it edges closer to the grip of your sword.'

Whiskeyjack could not deny the hairs rising on the back of his neck. He looked around, saw a similar alertness among the Rhivi, and in the pair of Malazan scouts who were scanning the hill-lines on all sides.

'What comes?' Korlat whispered.

'The gift,' Kruppe murmured with a beatific smile as he rested his eyes upon Silverfox.

Whiskeyjack followed the Daru's gaze.

To see the woman, so much like Tattersail, standing with her back to them, arms raised high.

Dust began swirling, rising in eddies on all sides.

The T'lan Ay took form, in the basin, on the slopes and the crests of the surrounding hills.

In their thousands.

Grey dust into grey, matted fur, black shoulders, throats the hue of rain clouds, thick tails silver and black-tipped; while others were brown, the colour of rotted, powdered wood, faded to tan at throat and belly. Wolves, tall, gaunt, their eyes shadowed pits. Huge, long heads were turned, one and all, to Silverfox.

She glanced over a shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes fixing on Whiskeyjack. She smiled. 'My escort.'

The commander, struck silent, stared at her. So like Tattersail. Yet not. Escort, she says, but I see more — and her look tells me she is aware. so very aware, now.

Escort. and bodyguard. Silverfox may no longer require us. And, now that her need for our protection has passed, she is free to do. whatever she pleases.