Memories of Ice

'Ah,' Quick Ben sighed, his grin fading, 'I think I see your point. The Tiste Edur are active once more, by what we've seen here. They're returning to the mortal world — perhaps they've re-awakened the true Throne of Shadow, and maybe they're about to pay their new gatekeeper a visit.'

'Another war in the pantheon — the Crippled God's chains are no doubt rattling with his laughter.' Paran rubbed at the bristle on his jaw. 'Excuse me — I need some privacy. Carry on here, if you like — I won't be long.' I hope.

He strode inland twenty paces, stood facing northwest, eyes on the distant stars. All right, I've done this before, let's see if it works a second time.

The transition was so swift, so effortless, that it left him reeling, stumbling across uneven flagstones in swirling, mote-filled darkness. Cursing, he righted himself. The carved images beneath his feet glowed faintly, cool and vaguely remote.

So, I'm here. As simple as that. Now, how do I find the image I'm looking for? Raest? You busy at the moment? What a question. If you were busy we'd all be in trouble, wouldn't we? Never mind. Stay where you are, wherever that is. This is for me to work out, after all.

Not in the Deck of Dragons — I don't want the gateway, after all, do I. Thus, the Elder Deck, the Deck of Holds.

The flagstone directly before him twisted into a new image, one he had not seen before, yet he instinctively recognized it as the one he sought. The carving was rough, worn, the deep grooves forming a chaotic web of shadows.

Paran felt himself being pulled forward, down, into the scene.

He appeared in a wide, low chamber. Unadorned, dressed stone formed the walls, water-stained and covered in lichen, mould and moss. High to his right and left were wide windows — horizontal slits — both crowded with a riot of creepers and vines that snaked down into the room, onto the floor and through a carpet of dead leaves.

The air smelled of the sea, and somewhere outside the chamber seagulls bickered above a crashing surf.

Paran's heart thudded loud in his chest. He had not expected this. I'm not in another realm. This is mine.

Seven paces ahead, on a raised dais, stood a throne. Carved from a single trunk of crimson wood, unplaned, broad strips of bark on its flanks, many of them split, had pulled away from the wood beneath. Shadows flowed in that bark, swam the deep grooves, spilling out to dart through the surrounding air before vanishing in the chamber's gloom.

The Throne of Shadow. Not in some hidden, long-forgotten realm. It's here, on — or rather in — my world … A small, tattered fragment of Kurald Galain.

. and the Tiste Edur have come to find it. They're searching, crossing the seas, seeking this place. How do I know this?

He stepped forward. The shadows raced over the throne in a frenzy. Another step. You want to tell me something, Throne, don't you? He strode to the dais, reached out-

The shadows poured over him.

Hound — not Hound! Blood and not blood! Master and mortal!

'Oh, be quiet! Tell me of this place.'

The wandering isle! Wanders not! Flees! Yes! The Children are corrupted, the souls of the Edur are poisoned! Storm of madness — we elude! Protect us, Hound not Hound! Save us — they come!

'The wandering isle. This is Drift Avalii, isn't it? West of Quon Tali. I thought there were supposed to be Tiste Andii on this island-'

Sworn to defend! Spawn of Anomander Rake — gone! Leaving a blood trail, leading the Edur away with the spilling out of their own lives — oh, where is Anomander Rake? They call for him, they call and call! They beg for his help!

'He's busy, I'm afraid.'